Amelia's hands shook violently as she texted her boyfriend, her frame shivering as she typed the words.
-Babe, cn u txt me bck?-
Blue eyes dripped tears and she shook with each breath, trying desperately to calm herself. She would be okay. She'd be fine. She was such a liar. Amelia jumped when her phone buzzed and she jerked it from her bomber coat pocket, eager to read her boyfriend's response.
-What is it Amelia? I'm slightly busy. Please hurry this up-
It felt like someone had grabbed her windpipe and squeezed; hard. Her heart clenched as she re-read the words, letting her blonde hair fall into her face, her hair clips forgotten on her dresser. No. No. No. No. No. Her light form racked with the sobs ripping open her body, pouring her insides out for everyone to see, water leaving tear trails down her face, dragging eye makeup down her cheeks.
-srry was gonna ask you to come out wit me an Maddie this weekend, no biggy-
Liar. Liar. Liar. She needed him. She needed his arms to hold her still and tell her she'd be okay, but he was busy and she could wait. She didn't even know what had caused this bout of hatred, maybe it was the demon mirror, or the scale that read 126, but no doubt, she needed love. But she looked up and swallowed. She'd be okay without him.
-bloody hell, you wasted my time for that?-
She needed him, and he was mad for it. It was always like this. Amelia would doubt herself, or her figure, or her appearance and he'd never respond, or he'd avoid the subject and break her heart. But she kept it up because she loved him.
He never saw the way her ribs jutted out from under her thin tee-shirts or the way her bomber jacket hung off her body limply, three sizes too big. He never noticed the way her blue eyes had dimmed, her hair had dulled and her skin had turned translucent; or how the scars on her arms, her thighs, her hips, her shoulders, all went undetected. He never read the words she labored to write, pouring her soul into stories, figures, pictures and poems. He never saw how her fingers twisted and locked, from over use or how her fingertips where covered in paint, thinner, and clay. He never noticed the cuts on the painted fingers from being shoved down her throat, or how the other countries teased her, calling her fat, ugly, and loud. He was never there. Never. So, logic told her that she was useless, unneeded, and tiresome. She stood. She was done.
-Goodbye darling. I love you, but I'm unnecessary. Have fun with your friends, I'll be with you.-
She strode out of her flat; stopping only briefly to hand her spare key to the desk manager, telling her to let her boyfriend into the room should he come.
-What are you talking about Amelia? Babbling nonsense.-
She walked farther out into the road ignoring her phone, crossing the street safely. She looked up at the skyscraper office building she worked at; pausing only to make sure she had her roof key, used to unlock the door at the top of the building.
-Amelia? Darling are you alright? Please answer.-
She greeted the secretary happily; nonchalantly stating that she'd left some paperwork in her office, and was here to fetch it. She smiled sadly as she pressed the button that would take her to the top floor, from there; there was only a flight of stairs and a locked door blocking her from release.
-I'm coming to see you. Be there in five-
Her eyes trained on the commercial print carpet, remembering the things that had led up to this.
Her boss had ruined her life –he wasn't there-
She was used; teased, abused and neglected –he blamed it on her-
She worked hard on everything she did, her sculptures, her drawings, her poems and her short stories, but no one cared. –He wasn't there-
She split her skin, letting warm blood fill the aching silence for her –He wasn't there-
She starved herself until her pants hung off her hips, and she had circles under her eyes, her body destroying itself to stay alive –He wasn't there-
Soon it'd be over. She'd be free of this hell. Her eyes lifted dimly as the elevator reached the 35 floor, the abandoned space used for storage. It was dark and creepy, but she wasn't afraid. No, she wanted to die.
-Amelia, where are you?-
She giggled and sat on a broken desk, maybe a few moments of this sadistic hide and seek before she died, besides, she wasn't ready yet.
-Arthur, I have a question… Do you love me?-
She tilted her head, confused. Where did that come from? Of course Arthur loved her… right? But it dawned on her that he mustn't. He was never there for her when she needed him, besides, she was gross and selfish and fat anyway, who would love that?
-Yes. Yes, Yes, Yes. I love you Amelia. Please, what are you doing?-
Her eyes widened and her head tilted to the other side, assuming the look of a perplexed owl. How could he vow this, when she knew he was lying?
-Pinky promise? And, if you must know, I'm doing the world a favor. A very nice on at that.-
She was growing tired of the dusty, broken piece of furniture that was supporting her so she moved; climbing the stairs and stopping only briefly to unlock the door, listening to the key turn, clicking in the door as it unbolted. Her face was met with warm evening sunshine as she bent her head up to smell the fresh air. She seated herself on the edge, dangling her feet off, watching the people.
-Amelia, I'd jab the phone with my pinky finger but that'd break it. Now, where the fuck are you?-
She giggled again. He didn't care. He couldn't love her. It was physically impossible. She couldn't comprehend what about her would be considered lovable.
-In my office building-
She laughed. Irony was an amazing thing. She set her phone down on the ventilation system, carefully removing her sneakers and bomber jacket, as she wanted them to be buried with her, and she didn't want to get guts all over them. She glanced up to the sky savoring her last tastes of life. She took her place at the edge, teetering with ballerina balance. She laughed as she let her muscles relax, causing her to slip backwards toward the ground.
So this is was it was like to free fa-
A very clammy but strong hand gripped her wrist. The face of her beloved boyfriend peered at her from over the building's edge.
"Amelia, what the flying fuck are you doing?" His face was panicked and his grip was slipping.
She just smiled lightly up at him, her eyes half lidded as if she were already dead.
"Arthur, do you love me?" Her lips barely formed the words before he answered them.
"Yes, a million times over. I pinky promise." He locked his free hand's last finger with hers sealing his truthfulness with the kindergarten promise.
"Then let me go. You missed your chance to save me. If you can't love when I need you, you can't love me when I don't"
Amelia twisted her hand slightly, freeing herself from her boyfriend and giving herself to the unforgiving concrete below. The last thing Arthur saw was her blonde hair, playing around her face, her eyes half lidded, mouth quirked up in a smirk that didn't look right on her pretty face. She hit the sidewalk with a very wet and very gross 'splat' after which, Arthur immediately threw up and began to cry. It was hard to make Arthur Kirkland cry, unless you took away the one thing that kept him alive, and she just hit the ground and splattered.
~~~~~~~~~~Hetalia~~~~~~~~~~
Author's note: This was written for someone whom will never read it, sadly, as I think it's one of my best works ^^; If I'm asked to, I may make an alternate ending, where America is indeed saved, and lives happily ever after. Otherwise, it'll stay morbid and angsty. I wrote this in one day, so pardon any rushed feeling plot and/or grammar mistakes. Reviews get alternate endings and the like. ~HMW