It started on a peaceful morning, or so it had seemed. Everything was quiet in the serene atmosphere of that Monday morning until, CRASH! BANG! "ANNABELLE ELIZABETH KIRKLAND GET OFF YOUR BUTT AND WAKE UP!"
Antarctica's eyes snapped open as she let out a shriek and tumbled off her bed and hit the hard stiff wooden floor that had been about three feet from the ground. Since she had such a beautiful sense of grace in the morning as well, her head banged into the side table and her foot made a CRACK sound as it connected with her bed frame. With all the pain radiating through her body adding to the equation of that adrenaline rush caused by the yell. She sat up and clutched her throbbing foot biting back curses. "What the-"
That was when Ann looked up and saw the familiar figure looming over her. She swallowed hard and gave a weak smile. "H-hey England…" she mumbled meekly.
The blonde Brit glowered down at her menacingly as his emerald green eyes burned into her skull. "Do you know what time it is?!" Arthur roared his hands clenching into tight fists pressing into his thighs.
"Um…" she glanced at her digital clock and saw the time, 7:09 blazing brightly. Her eyes widened, "OH CRAP!"
"Oh crap indeed!" he snapped grabbing her arm and yanking her to her feet, "School starts in 21 minutes and you aren't even dressed!" She yelped and pulled away from him rubbing her arm, sure he was scrawny but he had a tight grip.
"Sorry! I guess my alarm didn't go off-"
"Oh save me the excuses!" he hissed backing away and crossing his arms in front of his chest, his eyebrows furrowing in anger, "I don't care if Jack the Ripper himself was keeping you from waking up! Actually now that I think about it I wouldn't care if you were wearing earmuffs through the alarm and couldn't hear it! I told you what would happen if you're late to school one more time! Education should be more important than getting an extra hour to lie in that bed of yours wasting away precious minutes Antarctica!" Annabelle brushed her pale-blonde curls out of her eyes.
"Please just give me a break would ya?! I'll make it on time I promise!" she said as she dug out her uniform from her already atrociously organized closet. Luckily, England didn't see the horrid mess but only the plain and generic outfit. It consisted of a white formal long sleeved shirt, a blue sweater, a blue and purple plaid skirt, and a tie that matched the skirt. Most of the girls at Hetalia World Academy usually wore knee-socks and black dress shoes but instead Ann wore her knee-high black combat boots.
England gave her one last icy glare before straightening the tie on his own uniform and walking back into the hall. "You better."
Antarctica stared after his fleeting silhouette as he marched down the stairs and sighed with relief closing the door, for once there was somewhat peace and quiet. She slipped off the long sleeved shirt she had been wearing for sleepwear that night and started getting dressed as fast as she could manage.
Living in Kirkland Mansion was definitely hard sometimes on the poor girl, but she secretly loved it here. Waking up to her big brother screaming at her was not how most people enjoyed their mornings yes, but she had grown use to the Englishman's temper tantrums. No one else knew this, but she actually looked up to him and practically adored her oldest brother, but he could be a pain sometimes.
In the mansion, everything had to perfect according to Arthur Kirkland, otherwise known as the personified version of the country England. Most of the time he was more motherly to her than anything else, critiquing her and always seeming to be on her heels to correct her or scold her on a misbehavior.
Not that Ann didn't appreciate him, no that wasn't what she felt at all. He just had a habit of being right when she was wrong. And the one thing Annabelle hated the most in the entire world was being wrong. She actually despised it with a burning passion, and it was ten times worse when Arthur was the one proving he was correct and she had made a mistake. She always felt like she had disappointed him or simply didn't meet his high expectations.
Call it pride, vanity, conceit, stubbornness, haughtiness, arrogance, ignorance, or any of the words inbetween, because none of it matters for her anymore.
She called it simply being a teenager.
Not only is all of that difficult at times, but being a country itself especially challenging work for her. All of the countries of the world are personified into a human, for example herself. Any decision she could make could affect her land by economics, politics, wars, etc. One time there was a full out civil war between scientist and it left her aching for days on end. It got annoying, especially since there was a whole lot of responsibility and high goals that were supposed to be met. When you're sixteen physically, but over 800 years old in human years (since she was a continent technically speaking she aged much slower than the countries), you'd rather be hanging out with your friends than doing paperwork or sick in bed because of economical struggle.
As Antarctica finished tying up her knee-high combat boots, she started brushing through her thick curls wincing as she got stuck in tangled clumps. "Stupid bed-head," she mumbled biting her lip so none of her colorful words escaped her mouth.
Finally after managing to tame her hair at least half-way she did a quick swipe of make-up and checked the time, 7:18.
"Okay," she thought shoving her laptop in her bag, "I'm making good time." She quickly hefted her bag on her shoulder and headed downstairs. The aroma of bacon and eggs smacked her in the face invading her nostrils as she came down. "Well then," Ann muttered, "I guess England's not cooking then…"
Actually when Arthur announced that he would be cooking, she either ran for cover or made sure the fire extinguisher was ready for immediate use. Most people had at least one big flaw; the Brit's was definitely cooking. She went into the kitchen and saw a hunched over figure at the stove. She smiled, "Hey America."
The dirty-blonde American looked up at her and grinned giving a small but vigorous wave with his free hand.
"Hey dude! You hungry?" he asked lifting the frying pan and displaying his creation, "I made an Egg McMuffin!"
Annabelle chuckled and got a plate out for herself. "Trying to make McDonald's at home so England can't complain?" Alfred gave her a sly wink.
"You betcha!" he flipped it once in the pan and paused before flinging it towards her, "THINK FAST!" She immediately lifted it her plate and laughed in triumph as it fell with a thud on the plastic.
"That all you got?" Antarctica twirled it on her finger but also making sure her breakfast didn't fly off she watched it carefully, "ENGLAND, could do better."
After the insult sunk in, America's blue eyes flashed behind his glasses. "Oh you did not just say that."
She smirked. "Oh yes. I. DID!" Ann and Alfred, the personification of America, were always like this. While she and Arthur fought about half of the time, she treated her second oldest brother like a best friend.
America honestly wasn't the brightest bulb around, but he always knew how to make her smile no matter what. He was a little daft and didn't have that much knowledge on anything that didn't deal with fast food, his country, or video games. She was always looking up to him for advice on personal matters, but that was only if she felt safe to share was she was feeling at the time.
With his outgoing personality and "I'm the Hero!" attitude, he always tried to help her, even if she absolutely did not want it. Not to mention with that super-human strength of his, he could make things interesting from time to time, and cleaning under the dressers easier but that didn't go well for either of them.
Alfred looked like he was about to make a retort but then Arthur strode into the kitchen.
England's unruly blonde hair was somewhat neat now, even though it still stuck up like he had just gotten out of bed and his abnormally large eyebrows stood out against the pale blonde locks. The men's uniform consisted of purple plaid pants that went with a tie, and a purple sweater. But since he was so short, it looked a little odd on him when America easily beat him by over a head of height difference.
Then again, Antarctica was shorter than him still. Even in her combat boots, this had the slightest heel in them giving her an extra inch.
"Alfred can you at least try to take one meal seriously?" the Brit snapped his eyes narrowed at his younger brother as he stirred his tea, "We have a certain and specific time we need to get to school you know." The American rolled his eyes.
"Oh come on Mr. Eyebrows don't be such a grouch! We have like," he paused and pulled out his smartphone, "…6 minutes." England sighed looking up at the digital clock that hung right over Alfred's head and glanced at what was cooking.
"Still eating those disgusting globs of grease?" Arthur said dryly. Alfred lifted his head so he could see what he was doing.
"Still drinking that dirt based beverage?" he shot back with a cocky grin. The Englishman gave him a fiery glare as Ann quickly ate her breakfast and put her plate in the sink.
"I should get going," Antarctica mumbled heading back to the table. America raised an eyebrow and brushed crumbs off his bomber jacket. Instead of wearing the sweater and tie he simply had the brown heavy coat that was decorated with a circle patch on the left side of his chest and an American flag on his left forearm.
"Do you want a ride? I mean I could take you-" the American started.
"Thanks," Ann interrupted picking up her bag, "But no thanks. I'm walking again." He blinked and ran his hand through his messy hair trying to brush it down. But as always, one strand of hair stuck straight up defying gravity itself. Annabelle swore if she took hair gel to it that stupid cowlick wouldn't budge.
"Well… I guess that would be okay…" Alfred mumbled quietly mostly to himself than anyone else.
Arthur glanced at her as a flash of concern lit up in his eyes. "Are you sure? I don't want you getting kidnapped or something."
Antarctica smiled and opened the front door. "I'm a big girl Iggy, I think I can walk to school without having a guy grab me and drag me into a dark alley. Plus, I still have my cellphone with me. Don't worry about it."
Before the Brit could protest, she waved goodbye and slammed the door behind her. Antarctica gazed at the sky as she dug her iPod out of the pocket of her sweater. Today was another dreary day as usual. She shoved her ear buds into her ears and scrolled through her playlist and started walking towards the school. Finally, she tapped a song greatly admired by her and put the device back into her pocket.
Demons, of course she would be listening to it again. Annabelle loved "Imagine Dragons" to death, their songs always managed to speak to her even when she wasn't looking for it at that exact time. Eventually she would realize how much she needed it.
It was as if the song itself would just reach out to her, saying things she never realized it even mentioned until it all clicked into place. The meaning always changed every time she listened to it.
Ann eventually fell into the rhythm of the song, her feet hitting the pavement at the same tempo. Cars honked, tires screeched, lights flashed, people yelled, and faces passed by, but all she heard was the song thrumming in her mind.
It was a state of mind, as if she built up walls all around her so that no one could come into her conscience. To others she probably looked like she was sleep walking, which in a sense she guessed she was. In her mind she imagined a completely new life and world, one that she would enjoy and be happy without a horrid past haunting her every step.
Hey, a girl can dream.
This was the exact reason why Antarctica loved walking to school, she had time by herself and it was for herself. No brothers yelling at her, no strangers sneering at her down their noses, no teachers questioning her, no classmates pushing her around, and no therapist or doctors poking or prodding at her for once.
It was just her, and the silence was bliss.
Annabelle felt herself humming along, her fingers tapping to the beat. She always got like this when she started listening to music, once she put in those earbuds there was no one else in the world but her and the artist.
Almost like a conversation with herself, helping her admit her true feelings for herself. There were so many times where she lied to herself day after day just to make sure she wouldn't completely break down.
One of the main reasons this was her favorite "Imagine Dragons" song was because it represented her so well. On the outside everyone saw a girl who had a happy life and never faced anything wrong.
But no one would ever guess what broiled on the inside. Something so dark, it scared most people away when they figured it out.
Something cruel that most people didn't even understand.
Deep on the inside, there were many emotions. Anger, hate, confusion, sorrow, but every single one of them all had one thing in common, pain.
They would never guess that this curly haired, blue-eyed, blonde was fighting through one of the worst cases of depression people would ever experience. And this one couldn't be solved with a few therapy sessions or some pills. It would actually do quite the opposite.
In Ann's mind thoughts of past memories slowly faded away in the words of the song. She sighed and felt her eyes close as she continued walking. For now, the pain and suffering was gone yes, but soon the clock would strike midnight and POOF! She would be back to her rags and constant labor of living a lie. "I wish music could heal scars," she whispered out loud, "The ones under the skin."
Antarctica opened her eyes and saw the school slowly come into view. Most saw it as a waste, some saw it as a prison, others an opportunity, countless, didn't care anymore, maybe a few had mixed feelings about the entire situation. She on the other hand was different. She only saw it as hell itself.
Not because she hated school, oh no that wasn't it at all. She hated how she was treated there, looked as a piece of scum on the bottom of someone's shoe. Or an annoying parasite that everyone despised with a burning passion. Everywhere she went that scowled at her presence, as if her existence itself was a nuisance and a negative impact on her life. Like she didn't have the right to breathe the same air as them even.
They called her many things so far. Loser, fat, ugly, nerd, geek, parasite, pitiful excuse for a human being, disgrace to the human race, disgusting creature, monster, jerk, attention whore, wimp, piece of crap, etc. The list could go on and on.
Well she could say the feeling was mutual.
Antarctica sighed and closed her eyes again, she had walked this route so many times she didn't need to look down anymore. She simply listened to the melody filling her brain and taking over her thoughts.
'1 and 2, 3, 4,' she thought, softly singing the four-four rhythm in her mind repeatedly, '1 and 2, 3, 4.' After being in music and choir as well she could write out every single beat or note for this song.
Ann never meant to be like this, it just happened. After years of bottling her emotions up she had become an expert on acting like everything was perfect. Smiling and nodding, never questioning what people said. Like everything's going to be okay.
Fake it until you break it was basically a new motto for her now.
Everyone saw what they wanted to see, a happy little girl in a good home with people that loved her surrounding her. Like life was perfect and absolutely nothing was ever wrong with her. Almost as if everything was fine.
It's not, and deep inside she knew it never would be. It never has, never will, and never would ever again.
Out of pure habit Annabelle tugged down the sleeves of her sweater more and couldn't help but scowl in frustration, the stupid bandages were starting to show again to her constant annoyance. White pearly strips of cloth that went up both arms, now stained with crimson blood.
If you looked underneath, you would find crisscrossed lines running up both of her pale cream white arms. Some faded but still clearly visible scars, some scabbed over and barely close to healing, and some completely fresh and still dripping a slowly steady trail of the warm red liquid.
Then even deeper, you would find scars that were infected with hate and sorrow causing terrible pain. These were the scars wrapped under bandages up fake smiles, skin, and constant lies.
And that, that was where everything really was. Wrapped under bandages,
Was where her demons hide.