Hey! Did you guys miss me!

To my readers: Thank you so much to all of you guys for adding this to your story alerts and favorites and to the few people who did review. You guys have no idea how much it means to me. Thank you so much you guys. I read every review and replied to each one.

I'm super sorry that it's been a long time since I've updated this. I have the chapters written to halfway through chapter 5. I have just been super busy and basically just too lazy to sit down at a computer and type it up. My new beta also has been really busy with the school musical, and she hasn't been able to review it that quickly, however I'll be updating this story as often as I can. Thanks a ton for being so patient. Now I'll finish blabbing your ear off and get on with the story.

Disclaimer- Unfortunately, Hetalia does not belong to me. If it did, there would be way more Prussia, and the rating is subject to change KESESESESESE but anyway Blah Blah Blah I own nothing except the story itself.

Here you are Chapter 2

Enjoy ^-^

I wake up with a groan. I had the nightmare again. It's not uncommon for me to have this night mare; I have it almost every night. In the dream, I'm chained to a wall with my arms above my head. The room is of cold concrete with no windows and a single door directly across from me. The door opens and in walks my cousin and Ivan. Ivan proceeds to beat me while my cousin touches me sexually, like he did when I was little. He's never fully raped me in my dreams, but he has come close. I always wake up before he has the chance. I always thrash around in my dream, trying to fight them off to no avail. Ivan holds me down while my cousin proceeds to do with me what he wishes.

When I was younger, before I met Ivan, the dream would only contain my cousin. I would wake up screaming, and Arthur and Francis would come running to my bedside. Francis would gather my tiny body, shaking with fear, into his arms and hold me close, stroking my hair. He would sway back and forth and sometimes sing a small lullaby in French to calm me down as Arthur would rub my back and speak to me in a soothing voice.

When I had stopped crying, Arthur would kiss the top of my head gently and ask me what my dream had been about. Since I was still afraid that if I told anyone what my cousin had done to me that he would push me off the roof, I would just say that bad people had been hurting me. He and Francis would share a knowing look. Both of them had been told when they adopted me about what had happened, so they knew what I was talking about. Arthur would then pat my head and tell me that everything was okay, and that he and Francis would never let anyone hurt me again. Alfred would chime in that he would protect me too, running up to us from where he'd been standing at the door, having been woken up by my crying.

Then I'd smile and thank them. Arthur would kiss my head and take Alfred back to bed. Francis would stay with me until I feel back asleep. Some nights, when the dream had been particularly bad and I couldn't fall asleep afterward, he would take me downstairs for a warm glass of milk with a little maple syrup and cinnamon mixed in. Then, he would take me back up to my room and stay with me, singing soft lullabies in French until I was lulled back to sleep. Some mornings, I would wake up to find him still besides me, his head resting in his arms on the edge of the bed, hand still holding mine, having stayed with me all night in case I awoke again.

Well, back to the present. I awake from my nightmare in a cold sweat, giving a small cry of fear. I look at my clock. It reads 5:48 am. I only have twelve minutes until 6am, which is when I wake up normally, so I decide to get up anyway.

I swing my legs over the edge of my bed, dizzy from sitting up so quickly. I hear a knock at my door and Francis pokes his head in.

"Are you ok mon cher?" He asks, his face a little worried. "I heard you yell."

"Oui Papa. I just had a bad dream," I reply.

"Was it that dream again?" he says, his brow furrowing in worry, speaking of the dream I told you of previously. I nod my head and he sighs.

"You know that you're safe here, Mattieu. Your father and I are here for you always, and remember that you can always talk to Papa, no matter what it is," he tells me smiling. He then leaves to go downstairs to start making breakfast before Arthur can get to the kitchen first and poison us all with what is his idea of breakfast.

I slide out of bed and go to the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror. I'm not unattractive, nor am I especially attractive. I have a lean build; not fat, nor skinny. I have pale skin with a few freckles on the bridge of my nose. My hair is blonde and frames my face in soft waves, ending an inch past my chin. All except for one curl that sticks out to the side and won't go done no matter how many hair products I try.

I try to smooth it down with my hand but it just pops back up stubbornly. I give up with a sigh and turn back to the mirror, my violet eyes staring at my reflection. What is it about me that allows people overlook me with such ease? The only times they DO notice me is when they mistake me for my brother, Alfred. I don't even look like him with his straight, blonde hair and one stubborn cowlick that always sticks up and he has affectionately named "Nantucket". He is always fawned upon by girls because of his tanned and muscled body, toned from playing football. His electric blue eyes capture you, and he always has a goofy grin on his face. His loud, obnoxious, and overly happy and eccentric demeanor always draws people towards him. He's well-liked by everybody, while I'm simply overlooked and stuck in his shadow. No one ever pays me any attention when he's around.

I sigh, getting undressed and starting the shower as a wave of sadness washes over me. I desperately feel the need for release. I grab my razor, rubbing alcohol, and my rag. I take a deep breath and place the blade against the skin of my forearm, across the many crisscrossed scars already there. I release the breath as I draw it across my skin, applying enough pressure to break through the skin, leaving a red line behind. Blood drips down my arm, and I smile as the pain in my heart eases slightly. I repeat the action until blood is flowing down my arms from a dozen or so new cuts on my arms. My heart is much lighter than before. I step into the shower, letting the water flow over my. I wince as it washes over my cuts. I wash my hair and the blood quickly and get out, drying off. I make sure to be very gentle with my new cuts. I put rubbing alcohol on them, gasping as it burns. I then bandage my arms and wrap my towel around my waist. I realize I left my robe in my room. Crap! I can't let anyone see my bandages. No one can know about my cutting. Not that anyone would care, that is. The only one that ever really remembers me is Francis, or as I affectionately call him, Papa, and he's barely ever around thanks to his job at the restaurant, where he works as head chef.

I poke my head out of the bathroom door into the hall. I can still hear snoring coming from Alfred's room, telling me that my brother has not yet awoken. I hear the sound of a shower starting from Arthur and Francis's room. I hear Papa cooking downstairs. I take a deep breath and dash into my bedroom. I close my door swiftly and lock it, holding my breath to see if anyone knocks on my door. After about a minute I release the breath. I start to get dressed, pulling on a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a red hoodie from my large arsenal of them- five hoodies in total, though they are peppered with paint and small holes from being worn so often.

I grab my sketchbook from my art desk and put it in my messenger bag. I adjust my glasses and head downstairs to the kitchen. Papa is making breakfast when I get there. The smell of crêpes meets my nose, and I smile. Papa turns to greet me as I enter the kitchen.

"Bonjour, mon cher Mattieu. Est-ce que tu sens sius meilleure," he says in French. I was born and raised in Canada, in a French speaking part of the nation, so I grew up learning a mixture of French and English.

"Oui mieux merci Papa," I reply, sitting down at the table as Papa sets a plate of crêpes before me and sits next to me, placing two plates of eggs and bacon out for Alfred and Arthur.

"Are you okay Mattieu?" Francis asks me after a little while, causing me to jump a little.

"Oui Papa," I say quickly. I love Francis and he's the only one who doesn't forget me or confuse me for Alfred. He's only forgotten me twice and that was right after I can to live with him and Arthur. He's a wonderful father except that He's never at home because of his job.

"If you say so, Mattieu. I trust you, and if you say you're okay then I'll believe you. I'm just worried, because you've been having that dream much more often lately. I'm hoping that there isn't anything wrong that's causing it. I just want you to be happy, mon cher."

Oh, how I wish I could tell Francis the truth! I wish I could tell him about Ivan, the big Russian kid who bullies me on a daily basis, about how everyone's pretty much oblivious to my very existence, and how I'm overlooked; and when I'm not, it's to get beat up for something that Alfred did. How everyone overlooks me like I'm nothing more than an empty pocket of space, and how I feel like I'm invisible to the world.

However, I force a smile and say, "I'm okay, Papa. I promise."

Francis smiles, ruffles my hair, and takes our now empty plates to the dishwasher, just as a blonde blur busts into the kitchen and digs into one of the plates of eggs and bacon, polishing it off in a matter of seconds. Arthur enters the room after him quietly.

"Good morning, boys," he says sounding like he's still half- asleep. He's always this way before he has his morning coffee.

"Morning," I say as Alfred says something through a full mouth that none of us can understand.

"DON'T TALK WITH YOUR MOUTH FULL, YOU GIT!" Arthur yells at him, whacking the blonde teen upside the head. Francis and I giggle at the cute pout on Alfred's face.

Arthur sighs and says, "You boys should get going or you'll be late for school." After glancing at the clock, I see that he's right. We only have twenty-seven minutes to make it to school, and it takes about twenty minutes to get there.

"Okay! Bye, Dad!" Alfred yells, bolting out the door and leaving me to hurry after him before he forgets about me again.

"Bye, Dad! Bye, Papa!" I call over my shoulder, scurrying out the door to Al's pick-up truck. I sit in the passenger seat and barely have enough time to buckle my seat belt before Alfred hits the gas and we're barreling down the road at god knows what speed towards the hell hole known to me as school.

Okay, so filler chapter. Still no Gilbert in this one, either I know, but I promise you that I'll introduce his awesomeness in the next one, so please don't hate me. I promise that I am not updating slowly on purpose. I have up to chapter 4 written and am working on 5 currently. It's just that whenever I have time to type it up, I'm too tired or out of it to type. Also, my beta reader, the amazing Sakura414, is in our school's musical of Les Mesirables and has literally NO free time, so it took a while before she was able to read over this.

So please forgive me for being late. I promise to try and hurry things up and be better about updating this. I'm hoping to get it around to updating it about once a week. I hope that you guys like this and that you will continue to read this.

Thank you for the amazing people who have already sent me reviews. You guys have absolutely no idea how amazing it makes me feel when you guys review my stuff. I love it. Thank you so much. I hope to get LOTs more reviews and favorites and alert ads.

O and make sure to check out my beta's account. Her username is Sakura414, and she is truly amazing and honestly she is what keeps me from going totally insane. Keep reading, please, and keep letting me know what you think. I promise you that there will be the awesome sexiness of Gilbert in the next chapter.

O almost forgot

Translations:

Bonjour mon cher Mattieu. Est-ce que tu sens sius meilleure-Hello my dear Matthew. You feeling better?

Oui mieux merci Papa-Yes much thank you Papa.

Oui-yes

Mon cher-my dear

Again please keep reading and tell me what you think. I love you guys to death. Your replies mean a lot to me so keep 'em coming. ^-^