I do not own Hetalia. There isn't anything really graphic in this chapter, please enjoy.

Arthur had left then, his visit short lived. I fell back into my usual routine: wake up, choke down tea...(sneak some coffee), eat breakfast, clean the house, eat lunch, manage the yard...(sneak some candy), read, eat dinner, color, go to sleep...wake up, choke down tea... (sneak some coffee), eat breakfast...

The days went on like this and time seemed to drag on. I realized slowly that I had been growing rather quickly. I could reach things I never could before, though, usually, I still needed a chair... something I would never tell Arthur... Standing on furniture was sure to get me hit.

When I went into town, some women said I resembled an eight year old. I wasn't sure what they meant, but they started ranting about how I didn't speak as cutely anymore, and how I really looked nine... no, seven, and they lost me in their girly gibberish that I was sure wasn't a form of English. But, they were my people, and they all mattered just the same to me.

Everyday I would wait for him to come home, the house in perfect shape, but he never came. I always knew he would though, because he loved me. After several weeks, I started to lose hope, missing him horribly. The scar on my head ached the more I thought and the closer I got to tears.

Finally, there was a knock on my door, and I ran to it eagerly, abandoning my half drunken tea and the unruly mess of breakfast aftermath. I swung the door open. "Arthur!" He sighed, shaking away the look of shock on his face as he saw how much I'd grown in the past couple of weeks.

"Don't you check to see who was at the door before opening it?" He rose an eyebrow at me accusingly. "And don't slam the door like that!" I simply smiled at him childishly, just happy to hear his voice.

I stepped to the side, letting him through. He walked into the house, looking around, almost examining if for flaws...something he found when he entered the kitchen. "What is this?" His voice hardened as he looked at the mess and unfinished tea.

"I-I just finished making breakfast...a-and you came just as I was cleaning...would you like some tea?" I nervously asked, going to the counter to get the pot. I stared up at the counter, realizing I needed the chair to reach it. I hesitated, shuffling my feet as he watched me expectantly...so I reached for my chair. I climbed onto it causciously, knowing I would be in trouble.

The chair clattered to the floor as I felt a sting on my face. "Young gentlemen do not stand on chairs Alfred." He spoke sweetly, contradicting his scornful expression. I nodded, standing up and fixing the chair.

"I'm sorry." I looked at the ground, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"You will look at me when you speak to me boy."

I looked up at his with a glazed over expression. "Yes sir." I bit my lip so I could keep my eyes locked with his. He looked at me sternly and I found it hard to hold his gaze, so I stared without really looking at anything. I heard a clink. "No, please, don't!" I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand as I realized what I had said. I knew he was going for his belt.

"Alright." I stood shocked, surprised that he would comply with my requests.

I squeaked as my hair was harshly yanked, being pulled along by it. I was bent over his knee and a firm hand hit against my backside, once, twice, three times. I bit my lip harder, drawing blood; knowing if I screamed or cried I'd only be hit harder.

He stopped for a few moments and I stared up at him. He looked at me as if he were...admiring his work...but I knew he wasn't/ It was punishment, he didn't enjoy giving it as much as I didn't enjoy receiving it, I just knew it.

He landed one more hit and I winced. I was lifted into a sitting position and it hurt to sit. "Never mind that nonsense my boy. I brought you a present."

My face lit up and I cuddled to him tightly. "Really?" He nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box. I looked at it curiously. It was filled with small white sticks that didn't smell very nice, and I scrunched my nose. He took one out of the box and put it to my lips, but I closed them tightly and turned my head, refusing to let the foul smelling item into my mouth. He grabbed the back of my head and I squeaked, giving him the opportunity to shove the offensive object into my mouth.

I bit down hard and a disgusting substance pooled onto my tongue, and I turned away; gagging and dry heaving at the horrible taste. He rubbed my back gently, pulling out another of what I later found out was called a 'cigarette', and put it to my lips once more.

"Don't bite this time." He spoke gently and I nodded, enclosing the end of it between my lips softly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what I identified as matches. I flinched as he lit one, afraid he was going to burn me, but he lit the cigarette instead.

He quickly pulled it from my mouth as I started gagging again. He rubbed my back and put it back into my mouth when I stopped coughing. My eyes widened and I coughed on the smoke again, this cycle repeating several times. "Shh shh...it's ok, just like that...there you go...just a little more..." He mumbled gentle encouragements to me before finally putting out the horrible thing. I sighed in relief, taking deep breathes to clear my lungs of the rancid substance. "Don't worry Alfred, you'll get used to it."

I looked at him in horror. "U-used to it?"

"Yes, the southern region of your colonies produces the ingrediants for these. There is a higher demand now, and they must produce more; so you will learn how to smoke these. You do wish to support your people, do you not?" I nodded slowly, staring at the carten on the table. The cigarettes were horrible, certainly not something I wanted to start using daily, but, I did.

I spent the rest of that day learning to smoke. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, forcing myself to ignore the burning in my throat and the awful feeling it gave me. It grew late and Arthur put my into bed, of course no loving gesture to go with it...the English were simply not the type.

Looking back, had I been older, I might have realized he was merely trying to get me addicted to the horrible substance, force me into needing something, into being bound tighter to him, through addiction. However, the only thing I realized was how proud I had made Iggy that day, how I knew he would love me all the more for the brave thing I had done, and I fell asleep, pondering these thoughts.

Thanks for reading!