Yay, a new chapter after an eternity of waiting! And because I have really bad ADD when it comes to making stuff, I've also started a "Side Stories and Deleted Scenes" to go along with this. It's just going to be scenes that I was thinking of writing in this story but cut out because I felt it might've dragged the pacing down or because I haven't thought of them until later. I should get it out shortly.
Not really sure what to say on this chapter. It's what it is - a study of anger as a part of grief.
Mercedes is my Mexico-tan OC, who will be a big part of the Side Stories. And the "Maria" that Lovino talks to towards the end is Maria Goretti. Look her up, because she is a pretty awesome girl.
Disclaimer: This story is a non-profit, fan-made piece. Hetalia is owned by Funimation, Studio DEEN, and Hidekaz Himaruya. Please support the official release.
The Second Stage: Anger
The second stage of grief is anger. After the initial denial has passed, the mourner is overcome with rage at their situation. This anger is directed at the perceived unfairness of it all, a rage against God, or fate, or the cosmos in general for their lot in life. And this anger threatens to burst through, and destroy everything in its path.
But soon, that will come to pass.
Matt found working out was a decent outlet for his frustration. With his earbuds firmly placed in, he blasted the very heavy dubstep produced by Excision, an artist that came from the very country he embodied as loud as his ears could take it. He repeatedly hit the punching bag several times, and at some points, imagined either Arthur, Francis or one of the others' faces on it, beating it to a bloody pulp.
Suddenly Matt's alarm went off, signaling it was time to finish up. Matt let out one last punch, sending the bag swinging everywhere. He grabbed his stuff and ran off to the locker room for a quick shower and a change of clothes before he would return home for some desperately needed personal time with Kenna.
When Matt returned home, he noticed the smell of food from Domino's Pizza in the air. His nose was right when he saw a large box of partially eaten pepperoni pizza and one chocolate lava cake left behind for him in the kitchen. He felt a slight twitch of guilt; he really didn't want to get Kenna on any unhealthy habits, and the fact that she had to order delivery from home by herself made him feel bad that he couldn't be there to make and eat dinner with her like a proper caretaker should.
But he was so damn busy. And he hated every moment of it.
"Matt!" Kenna exclaimed happily as she ran up to him and hugged him tightly. Matt returned the embrace, smiling. It felt really good to know she was here and safe.
"How was work?" she asked.
"Oh you know, it was the same old thing. Did you order that pizza yourself, Kens?"
Kenna nodded and grabbed some slices for Matt to eat before saying, "Let's watch a movie, Matt. I miss doing those with you."
"Of course honey," Matt smiled as he accepted his plate. The two of them cleared off the sofa, and Matt turned the TV along with the X-Box 360, went over to Netflix and after much intense debate (Matt wanting to watch a comedy and Kenna wanting a cartoon), they settled on a Disney movie.
As soon as the movie was finished, Matt noticed Kenna was nodding off
Mat checked the clock and said, "Well missy, I think it's a bit past your bedtime, don't you think so?"
Kenna pouted but followed through anyway, since she was tired. After she washed her face, brushed her teeth and got into her pajamas, she was about to go to bed.
Before she got under the covers, she quickly said, "Matt, can I ask you something?"
"Go on ahead."
"Do you hate me?"
Matt's eyes became wide at this, and he felt several painful things hit him at once. A giant lump in his throat formed, his stomach lurched (and it took everything he had not to vomit), and the air in his lungs were almost punched right out of him by that question. He took a moment (or a few more) to compose himself before finding his voice.
"Kenna, why would you think that?" Matt asked her, almost demanding, as tears began to spring in his eyes.
Kenna was taken aback somewhat as she weakly answered, "Well that's the thing. I know you're taking care of me because you made a promise to Alfred."
Matt sighed and grabbed a chair, sitting by Kenna's bedside. He looked at his "little sister" right in the eyes and firmly replied, "Kenna, honey, I don't hate you at all. I don't blame you for Alfred's death or for what caused him to kill himself, and I don't hold anything against you for being his replacement. All the horrible things that happened are not your fault."
Kenna seemed to be eased by Matt's reassurance that he didn't hate her, but she still pressed, "But what about the fact that you feel like you could have prevented Alfred's death?"
Matt answered, "Look Kens, I will admit, I still wish I could've done things differently, if only because I wish Alfred never had to go through the pain he did. But that doesn't mean that I hate you or resent you. Like I said before, none of that stuff was your fault; it was Arthur, Francis, Kiku, Yao, Ivan, Ludwig, Gilbert, Feliciano and Lovino's fault this happened. I only wish that you didn't have to be saddled with Alfred's memories of what happened. No one, especially you, should ever have to put up with that."
"And what about your promise?"
"I did take you in at first because of the promise I made to Alfred. But it's not just that. I am here to take care of you because it's not just the right thing to do, but because I love you. I have seen what a great person you are, and I really do feel blessed to have you in my life right now, Kenna. And I am very sorry."
She was confused as she asked, "What do you mean you're sorry?"
He sighed again and said, "I'm sorry for ever giving you that impression. I know that I've often been angry, but that's only because I'm still grieving over Alfred's death. And I've been busy all the time, not for trying to avoid you, but only because I'm trying to do two things at once. But I should be preparing you for that stuff."
Matt's face then brightened up and he added, "You know what Kens? Starting this weekend, I'm going to cut some of my hours down. We're not hurting for money right now, and right now, looking after you and preparing you for your duties and responsibilities as the United States of America is what should take top priority. And I know you will do an amazing job, Kenna."
A smile spread across her face. "You'll do that for me?"
"Anything for you, Kenna. Except I'm still not getting you a flamethrower for your birthday," Matt answered, ruffling her hair playfully.
"Ack, Matt careful! I've been growing my hair longer; I don't want it to tangle up!" Kenna cried.
Matt just responded by tickling her and Kenna screamed and laughed at the same time, tickling Matt back as they got the heavy stuff out of their systems, feeling way better now. As Kenna yawned and started to drift off asleep, Matt tucked her in gently, smiling. He kissed her goodnight, turned off the lights and closed the door behind him.
As soon as he made it to his room, Matt couldn't help but let himself go. Tears of rage made their way down his face as several thoughts went over in his brain at once, so quickly that he couldn't get a hold on any of them. He took several deep breaths and made his way over to the dresser. In one of the drawers, he kept a single piece of paper buried under a layer of underwear and t-shirts.
It was Alfred's personal final letter to him.
Matt took the letter out, and began to read it.
Dear Matt,
By the time you're reading this, I'll be on the other side, whatever it is.
First off, I just want to say that I'm really sorry. About everything. I'm sorry I was such a lousy brother to you, and I'm sorry I always made your life miserable because I was such a stupid and selfish asshole. And I'm sorry because I know you're doing everything you can to help me, and I appreciate it, but I just can't get over this.
And I'm especially sorry for what I just did.
I know you'll probably want to avenge me or something like that, but please, just don't, okay? I'm really not worth it and I've already caused enough trouble when I was alive. I don't need to cause even more beyond the grave. Please, just leave them alone and don't put yourself or any other Nations through the trouble.
And I know this is a bit cheesy, but I do have a last request. I hope it's not too much to ask for but I would like it if you promise this.
If another personification of the USA comes into existence, look after him/her. Guide, protect and teach my successor, and don't let him or her screw up as badly as I did. I don't want what happened to me happen to anyone else, especially to whoever takes my place.
Just do that, if it's not too much trouble for you.
Thanks for everything. I know we never had a perfect relationship, but I couldn't have asked for a better brother than you, Matt.
Thanks.
I love you.
Your brother,
Alfred
Matt folded the letter back up and placed it back into the drawer. He took several deep breaths to steady himself as he walked out to the patio and lit up a cigarette. As he smoked, tears began rolling down his face. He really was doing everything he could. But sometimes, he felt like his best wasn't enough.
He couldn't protect his brother despite his bad feelings about that fateful "meeting" and he couldn't do anything to help Alfred recover from his trauma.
And he had almost failed Alfred yet again, as well as Kenna. He hadn't been there for her enough. How could he live up to his promise to Alfred when he wasn't there for Kenna and protect her and guide her? Hell, Arthur's kidnapping attempt was a testament to that.
Matt was angry. He knew it very well, and anyone that knew his situation would say he had every right to be. But Matt knew now that he had let his anger consume him, cloud his vision and blind him to what was most important.
Matt put out the cigarette, trying to resist the urge to light up another, but he failed. Matt hated how he was starting to chain-smoke nowadays, but he really desperately needed this. He needed to clear his head now.
One thing was for certain – Matt would not let his grief and anger rule over him anymore. If he had to, he would get a counselor. He had to be there for Kenna above all else. Not just protect and love her, but also prepare her for her responsibilities.
It wasn't just a promise for Alfred. It was also the fact that he really loved and cared for that girl with all his heart, and he would not fail her like he failed Alfred.
"Stupid, stupid stupid," Lovino grumbled to himself as he trudged on at his home. It was a very lovely place, right in the middle of the countryside that was about an hour long drive away from the city of Rome. The sun was warm and balanced out perfectly by the nice breeze blowing through, and the scenery was perfect. But Lovino found no joy to behold in those sights. He tried to eat some food earlier, but barely had the appetite for it. In fact, he barely had much of an appetite these days.
Why did Alfred have to do that anyway? It was just a simple punishment, a wake up call to make him get off his lazy ass and fix things already. And the dumbass was supposed to be thankful they didn't kill him or worse.
'Ah, but what could be worse than what you and the others did to him?' a very nasty, cruel voice in Lovino's mind asked him. 'What else could you have done that was worse than raping him?'
'SHUT UP!' Lovino yelled back at it, trying to make the voice stop taunting him. But the cruel voice just laughed maniacally, because it knew Lovino had nothing to argue against that.
The South Italy personification was sure he was going crazy. But at least he wasn't a moron like Arthur.
When news had reached everyone about Arthur's little failed kidnapping attempt on Kenna, everyone had choice words for the UK representative. Lovino for the most part wasn't worried about her; he knew that there was no way the real life version of the girl from his nightmare would be able to call upon legions of the undead and then send his soul to the afterlife of fire and brimstone torture.
And he really didn't care if she liked him or not.
'Keep telling yourself that, Lovi,' the voice quipped.
Maybe talking to someone else would make that damn voice in his head shut up. But who?
Lovino looked at his contacts list. The potato bastard Ludwig was way out of the question, as was Gilbert. He didn't feel like dealing with Kiku either; it was clear to everyone that he was in severe denial over Alfred's death up until seeing Kenna. Feliciano was also out of the question; his brother was nothing but a self-hating wreck these days and would only make his already rotten mood worse. Ivan was an absolute no. Yao and Francis were also out too.
His eyes then brushed over Antonio's number.
Antonio.
Ever since the other nations found out about that assault on Alfred, Antonio had taken it particularly hard. Not only did Antonio feel awful that Alfred, whom he did have a hand in discovering centuries ago pass away, but there was also the matter of Mercedes.
It was common knowledge that despite their arguments, Alfred and Mercedes were always pretty close, and though they weren't related by blood, they did consider each other siblings in a way. When she found out, Mercedes had pretty much marched into Lovino's home and really made an example of him. Antonio had to keep her from killing him , stating that what she was doing bordered on an act of war.
As a result, Mercedes bitterly gave up, but she was clearly still in a lot of pain. Everyone knew Antonio was her main support system nowadays.
And the matter of Antonio himself...
Lovino couldn't help himself though. Before he could bring himself to change his mind, he pressed the 'call' button on his phone and let it go through.
After a couple rings, he heard an answer.
"Lovino? What are you doing calling me?" Antonio's tone of voice was far from the warm and affectionate one Lovino was used to hearing.
Lovino tried nonetheless, replying, "Well, Antonio, look, I know it's been a while and you are mad about what happened, but please I just want to make things right between us."
Lovino's former caretaker and friend bitterly laughed on the other end. "Make things right? Mad at you? Lovino, do you even realize how stupid you sound right now?"
That was a shocker right there. Antonio was usually such a nice guy, and was always more of a lover than a fighter. He was barely a confrontational person, and rarely got angry. Before Lovino could try to talk again, Antonio harshly cut in again.
"Things can never be right between us ever again, Lovino. I am not just mad at you either; to be completely honest with you, I am absolutely furious and disappointed with you. Just what in the nine circles of Hell were you thinking on that day anyway?! Did you even once stop and think for a second about what you were doing?!"
Lovino was completely floored by this. When Antonio found out about the incident, he had initially looked ashamed and quietly went away without saying a word. Here, he was a raging storm, a hurricane about to destroy everything in its path.
Lovino nevertheless tried to respond, "I was just calling you because I was in a bad mood..."
"Oh boo-hoo, it's always about you, isn't it Lovino?! You are never happy, and you always feel like you have to drag everyone else down with you! Let me tell you a little revelation I've had - you see, the reason why people generally prefer your brother over you is not because you're less talented than him. You have your own strengths too Lovino, but you've never bothered to really explore and build upon them. No, the reason is because Feliciano goes out of his way to be nice, personable and warm. Sure, he's not the most assertive person out there, but he goes out of his way to make others comfortable to be around him and give a good impression."
Antonio angrily continued, "You, on the other hand, seem to have it in for everyone! You always treat everyone like garbage and act like the whole world owes you something. You ever thought that maybe you could stand to be a bit nicer? I wonder at times, especially now, just what I did wrong in raising you."
Angered with the way Antonio was talking towards him, Lovino angrily fired back, "You want to know where you went wrong? I'll tell you! You went wrong by always favoring Feliciano over me! Even when we were kids, you always preferred him over me, and you were so blatant about it too! I never once got a break! You and Francis only wanted me for my inheritance I got from Grandpa Rome, and don't you deny it!"
Antonio seemed stunned silent for a second before apparently summoning his voice again. "I'll say this once Lovino - don't ever call me again. I will let you know also just how utterly disgusted and ashamed of you for what you did to Alfred. He certainly was a fool and made some mistakes, but he did not deserve any of the pain you and the others put him through. And that's not even getting to the pain you are putting his brother Matthew through, and to Mercedes, as well as little Kenna. And even more is how deeply you embarrassed me. Your actions reflect on me as well you know, Lovino."
Lovino immediately began to regret his outburst. He cried out, "Antonio, please, I'm sorry!"
"I'm not at all sorry to break it to you, Lovino, but you saying sorry in this case is just not good enough to make up for even half of the horrible things you have done. You have crossed the line and you have only yourself to blame for your own misery. Don't ever call me again Lovino. Not unless you have something important to tell me."
And then the line went dead. Lovino stared at his phone for a few seconds before anger began to overtake him. He at least had the self-restraint not to throw his phone at the wall, but that didn't stop him from punching the nearby wall. He immediately regretted that because his hand exploded with pain.
That clearly did not go well. Antonio made it clearer than day that he wasn't going to take another call from him. So now what?
First thing was first; he had to make sure his hand wasn't broken or bleeding. It was fine, so he left the house bitterly to maybe clear his head out and get some fresh air, even if everything around him just made him even angrier.
As Lovino walked, he took in the sights. Children playing under the watchful eyes of their grandparents while Mom and Dad were probably off working; tourists walking and holding hands happily as they took in the sights, smells and sounds around them with a sense of almost childlike wonder, architecture that had been around for decades, if not over a century now.
It had its own charm to it, and certainly could rival Venice's canals any day.
Maybe Antonio had a point. Maybe it was his attitude that was the problem...
"No!" Lovino growled angrily. He immediately realized he was also a bit loud and noticed some of the people around him stared at him strangely before going about their merry way, deciding they had more important things than look at someone talking to himself.
What did that idiot tomato stuffer know? He, of all nations, should be well aware of how bad things had gotten. It was supposed to be for the good of everyone. Alfred was just being a drama whore when he committed suicide; a spoiled wimp that didn't know what was good for him.
It drove him crazy that Antonio refused to see that, and it only made his blood boil more that Antonio was choosing to be on the side of Alfred's wimp brother Matt and that stupid bitch Mercedes.
The voices in his head only laughed harder at Lovino, taunting him. and nothing he could do would shut them up. They were pushing him closer to the brink...
And then, out of the corner of Lovino's eye, he spotted a church. A very old one that many tourists loved taking pictures of, but it was nevertheless a house of the Lord. Even if he rarely prayed, Lovino couldn't help but want to go in. That didn't quite soothe his anger or quiet the voices in his mind, but it did feel a bit comforting. A couple priests were cleaning around the place, sweeping the floors and scrubbing dust and dirt off the windows mostly.
Off at the corner was a confession booth. Lovino trudged over to it; he didn't quite know why, but his legs were somehow disconnected from his thoughts, automatically steering him there. Was this God's working?
There was a priest in the booth, and through the little window, Lovino could see he was an elderly man with thinning white hair and eyes that spoke of experience and a rich life. Lovino really didn't want to be here, but some strange compulsion drove him to this place, so he might as well try to go along with it.
"What brings you here, my boy?" the priest asked kindly.
Lovino replied, "Forgive me father, for I've sinned. Though to be honest, I'm not completely sure what brought me here. I just felt this compulsion to come here. I guess I just wanted someone to talk to."
"Well, today's been quite slow, though it's understandable; it's only Wednesday," the priest said, "so I have time to to talk for a while. I can tell just by the tone of your voice that something troubles you, young one."
Lovino had the good sense not to lambaste the priest for calling him 'young one'. It wouldn't be good for him. He just asked, "How did you know?"
"Trust me, I have been doing this sort of thing for a long, long time. You learn to pick up on those little things, the subtleties if you may. Listening to people, offering advice and doing your best to do the Lord's work is a fine way of sharpening that skill. So then, why don't you tell me what has been bothering you?"
Lovino took a deep breath and tried to figure out how to tell this priest what happened without getting into the weirder details. He quickly figured it out and replied, "Well, I knew this guy, Alfred. He was my friend for the most part, mostly just a friend of my other friends. But then, he made this mistake that hurt us all and well, we had to open his eyes up to his mistake. But then a few months after that, Alfred committed suicide, and in his suicide note, he blamed us for driving him to that. And after our other friends found out, they won't talk to us anymore; my best friend Antonio won't even talk to me. He even told me in our last conversation that he hates me."
The priest asked, "Is that what troubles you the most? That Antonio won't talk to you anymore?"
"Not just that," the South Italy personification replied, "but it's also the fact that I still don't think what we did to Alfred was a big deal. I mean, the idiot made a stupid mistake and all we were trying to do was teach him a lesson! It's not my fault that he was a thin-skinned wimp that can't take any criticism. And Antonio refuses to see that."
The priest nodded his head in thought and was silent for a moment. He seemed like he was trying to figure out the right words to say. Finally he let it out.
"I get the feeling that you might be telling me everything, but that's okay; I think I have a good idea of what you're telling me, my son. And if you want my honest opinion, I think you might be the one that doesn't fully understand the true extent of whatever it is you did to Alfred. If what you did to him was enough to make Alfred lose the will to live and take away his own life, then perhaps maybe Antonio has every good reason to not want to talk to you anymore."
Lovino looked at the priest in shock and angrily asked, "Wait, you're taking their side? I thought it wasn't your place to judge!"
"You're right, it's not my place to judge; only God is the true judge of us all," the priest confirmed. "But that doesn't mean I can't offer you a word of advice, young one. I don't need to know whatever dirty details there are to your story, but know this: it is one thing to do bad acts, but another to not truly reflect on them and think about how your decisions and actions, the good and the bad, effect others. The Lord is forgiving, but even then, you can't expect Him to give it out on a silver platter, especially if you can't acknowledge whatever it is you did wrong."
The priest's words hit a chord with Lovino, and that was what frightened him the most. He wasn't sure if the old man meant to do so, but his words really got under Lovino's skin.
And the worst part was, he couldn't stop it. Lovino quickly left the church, not even trying to say goodbye to the priest.
As he ran home, Lovino tried to block it out. Several vivid images started going through Lovino's mind. Memories, happy and sad, flashed before him. But most especially images of The Incident and the aftermath of it were the ones that hit the hardest.
He was standing in that dark cold room, which reeked of sex, sweat and a sharpie marker. And at the center of it was Alfred, covered in blood and semen, curled up in fetal position and softly sobbing. Lovino and the others just simply left him like this to be found by Matt.
And then that day Mercedes confronted him...
"How could you, Lovino!?" Mercedes screamed angrily. "How could you violate him and let him die?!"
Lovino looked at her as if she was insane, all the while nursing his hurting cheek. Not only had she slapped him, but her sharp and long fingernails scratched hard enough into his skin to scrape it off.
"It's not my fault, you crazy bitch!"
"Gilipollas! Pendejo! You killed Alfred, you son of a cunt! You killed him, and you won't even apologize for it! You are a disgrace!" Mercedes cried out, sobbing as Antonio tried to hold her back from really hurting Lovino.
Mercedes angrily wrenched herself out of Antonio's grasp, but surprisingly, she didn't beat Lovino to a bloody pulp like everyone else thought. She just simply glared at both Lovino and Antonio silently, before growling and running away, sobbing even harder.
Lovino looked at Antonio, and (unaware he was doing it all) put on "that face" for him. A sympathetic look of sad, soulful eyes turned toward Heaven and a tragic expression that said he wasn't at fault; life was hard and unfair, and he shouldn't be blamed for lashing out.
But it didn't fly with Antonio. The Spaniard simply looked at his former charge/little brother figure and only sighed with disappointment before turning around and walking away to see to Mercedes.
'Why me? Why does this have to happen?' Lovino thought to himself as he tried to fight off the guilt and the cruel voices that only got louder in his mind.
Finally, when he was home, Lovino slumped against the wall, not sure what to do now.
It didn't last long.
He screamed in rage, pain and other emotions, thrashing wildly without a care in the world. Nothing in his house was safe from Lovino's wrath. Plates, glasses, decorations, furniture; all thrown all over the place in a storm of built up fury.
"WHY?!" Lovino screamed up at the sky. "Why did you have to go, you asshole?! Why couldn't you just take your stupid lesson like a man?"
Upon receiving no answer, Lovino angrily kicked a hole right into the wall. He didn't even care that his foot was now hurting. It didn't match the pain of the realization that was now finally hitting him.
Nothing ever went well for Lovino. His grandfather always blatantly favored Feliciano over him, Antonio and Francis only wanted him for his inheritance, and everyone always preferred Feliciano over him. And then that stupid moron Alfred ruined the economy, and when they tried to teach him a lesson, he killed himself. Even Mercedes and Antonio were willing to give Feliciano a little more leeway for his involvement in The Incident than for Lovino.
His life was nothing but a series of unfortunate disasters...
And it was all his own fault.
Lovino sobbed, feeling the full weight of Antonio and the priest's words sink into him. He always blamed everyone else for his misfortunes, and never even once took even an inkling of responsibility for his own actions.
He was a horrible brother to Feliciano, a horrible friend to everyone else.
"I'm just an all around horrible person," Lovino grumbled under his breath. "Why doesn't God just smite me right here and make everyone else happier by getting rid of me?"
'No Lovino, you aren't horrible.'
A voice, very different from the rest, rang in his ear. Lovino's throat was still choked up with sobs and his vision blurry from crying so much. Hearing voices in one's own head was a clear indication of insanity...
'You're not insane Lovino. You know me. Don't you recognize me?'
The South Italy personification looked around and ironically enough one object escaped his carnage - a single small figurine of a young girl in saintly robes. He walked towards it and felt the life and warmth radiating from it. It was so comforting; more than he deserved really, but he couldn't help himself. He could feel her within the figurine especially well.
"Little Maria? Is it really you?"
'Yes Lovino, it is me. It's been quite a long time since we've last spoken.'
Lovino grumbled, "Yeah. Why even start now, especially after what I did?"
Maria replied, 'Because, I've quite frankly seen enough. Punishing yourself is not part of the road to redemption.'
Lovino huffed and rolled his eyes. "Could've fooled me. Besides, everyone else has been punishing me for centuries. What more harm can come from me?"
Maria sighed and said, 'Lovino, contrary to what you believe, there are people who care about you in this world. Yes, you drove them away, but you can earn their love and friendship back by doing what is necessary.'
"Do what though? It doesn't make any sense!"
'Maybe it doesn't make any sense to you now, but in time, you will know what must be done to regain Antonio's trust, and maybe even the friendship of Kenna.'
"But how? Just what am I supposed to do, Maria?!" he desperately asked her, grabbing the statue, pleading for answers. If he really could get Antonio's friendship back like Maria was saying, then he needed to know. Why was she being all cryptic like this anyway?
Maria's voice, though still gentle and angelic, was firm as she replied, 'It's not my place to tell you what to do, Lovino. That's for you to figure out for yourself, when the time comes. I'm sorry, but I can't help you any further than this.'
Horror dawned upon him. "Wait, what?! Are you leaving now?"
'Sadly Lovino, yes, I do have to go now. I can't stay here much longer. It was only because of my desire to help you that I was even able to cross the barriers between the realm of Heaven and Earth.'
"NO!" Lovino pleaded desperately, "Don't go! Please, Maria, I need your help! I can't do this on my own! Don't go!"
Though the facial features on the figurine didn't change, Lovino could feel the sadness radiating from it, from Maria's spirit. She didn't want to go either.
'I'm sorry Lovino. I wish we could talk more, and I wish I could give you some more advice, but I can't. You need to learn it yourself; I can't hold your hand for you,' she said with regret. The light and warmth radiating from the tiny statue was slowly becoming dimmer by the second.
All the Southern Italy brother could do now was sob. He knew it was too late, but he couldn't help it. He choked out, "Maria, please, don't go..."
'I can't stay here any longer. But remember my words Lovino, and don't be afraid. I know you can do it. Goodbye.'
And just like that, Maria was gone, leaving the cold empty void to take over once again.
Lovino almost wanted to give into his rage again, but something prevented him from doing that. Was it Maria herself, or him?
Lovino didn't know. He at least knew one thing for sure now - he couldn't let his anger control him anymore.
But what else was he supposed to do? Sure, Maria told him he could get Antonio and his old friends back, but how? She didn't give him any clues or hints, nowhere to start off from, nothing.
How was he going to do this?
And there it is! For those wondering why Matt didn't call Mercedes first with Ukraine and Hungary to introduce her to Kenna, that will be explained in the "Side Story" I'm currently writing. If anyone has any suggestions for things I should explain/include in the side stories that I didn't go into detail here, leave your suggestions in your review or PM me if you wish! :)
Boy, writing Antonio calling Lovino out was a cathartic piece for me. About time someone called Lovino out on his "woe is me/victim complex" attitude. As for Maria Goretti being nicer and more lenient, well, the girl wasn't canonized as a saint for nothing. Lovi will take her advice to heart, but it would require a lot of growing up on his part, which is about the last thing from his mind because Lovino still can't quite let go of his self-centered attitude. It will take him several years of struggle for sure.
And yes, Canada listens to dubstep. Admittedly, that's just Author Appeal on my part. As bad as American pop stars can be, they'll never quite be as ear-grating, annoying and just plain awful as Canadian pop stars. Canadian dubstep is darned good though.
Leave a review and let me know what you loved, hated, were neutral about, and what you'd like to see next! Love you all!