America breathed out shakingly, and raised his hand again to knock on the door again. He was all alone outside at midnight, and it was starting to rain really hard. He hoped that maybe Canada would hear his knocking and open the door, and not his father, Britain. It was the middle of fall, so it was also pretty cold as well.
He knocked again, and finally heard the sound of someone walking towards the door. America held his breath, and waited for whoever it was to open the door. Stepping back, he let the door slowly open. On the other side of the door just ended up being a very tired looking Australian.
"Ey, what are you doin' out here, mate?" Australia asked, rubbing one of his eyes, and yawning. He opened the door a little more so America could walk in.
America kept his mouth shut about the truth, knowing that no one in the house knew of what was going on, and he doubted they care at all either. "I was out with friends, and I accidentally stayed over there a little longer than dad said…"
Australia nodded slowly, watching America walk off. America was the oldest after all, so the lie seemed pretty realistic.
America walked back downstairs to his room, and fell down onto his mattress, his bed. He then curled into a ball, and stared at the wall, knowing that tomorrow would probably be worse because of school.
~time skip to the morning~
Australia, New Zealand, and Canada were getting out of the house to walk to school, America on the other hand was already at school, putting his stuff into his locker.
He heard a few voices behind him, and he could already tell who it was. "Hey China and North Korea. What do you want this time."
China stood up straight and glared at him. "I just wanted to say-"
North Korea, who was already shaking a bit, quickly cut in. "-Nothing! We weren't saying anything! Bye America!"
The two walked away, North Korea turning around a few timed to glance back at America. America's breath hitched and he clenched his fists. He knew they were talking about him, and probably coming up with a new horrible rumor about him. It always happens on Monday's.
America took his backpack and walked down the hall, dodging students and teachers on his way to his first class, Study Skills. He entered and set his backpack on the back of his chair, glancing around the room to see the new student already sitting in his chair reading something.
The new student's name was Soviet for all America cared, and this kid was already best friends with America's rumor spreading bully's.
America stood up and walked back out of the classroom, and towards Mexico, who was talking to Peru and Chile. "Good morning, guys."
Peru waved, but continued her rant to Chile and Mexico. Mexico stopped listening to Peru and turned around with a straight face, "hey, uhm, so y'know our ideas for hanging out this week? Well, I accidentally agreed to go out with Argentina and Brazil to the new cafe down the street. They are really looking forward to it, I'm sorry."
America sighed, but nodded. "It's alright, maybe another day."
"Yeah, but hey! I might be open on Friday! I don't have practice on that day, and I have no plans!" Mexico suggested with a small smile.
America only grinned back because Mexico was. "Yeah… maybe, but I don't know. I can only hang out on Monday… and Friday is… -uh- family day."
"Family day?" Chile asked, butting into their conversation.
"Uh… yeah. It's where our family just hangs out on that day…" America lied, grinning nervously.
"Lame." Mexico exclaimed. "Well, if you can't, then-" he turned around to look at Chile and Peru. "-we can probably go to the park and hang out."
"Sounds fun." Peru smiled, but then she glanced at America. "Sorry, hope you have a nice time with your family on Friday!" she smiled.
Chile grumbled under his breath, "F*cked up Friday"
America just nodded. "Maybe next week, Mexico…"
"Yeah."
America turned around and started walking back to his class right when the 5 minute bell rang. As he walked back to his class, he got tripped by North Korea, who quickly started to run off yelling for China.
America grumbled and stood up, glaring at North Korea. "What is your problem?" he muttered under his breath.
~time skip to after school~
America's school ended an hour before Canada, Australia, and New Zealand's school did, so he got home before them. He slowly opened the door and entered the house, looking around before he slid his backpack off his shoulder and hung it on the hanger by the door. He then started to walk towards the stairs that led to the downstairs, but right before he could start running down the stairs, a hand grabbed his right wrist and swung him around. America stared right down into the eyes for his father, Britain, who was holding a letter in his other hand.
"What… the… f*ck… is… this?" Britain growled, handing the letter to America.
The letter was already open, so it was easy for America to pull it out. He looked over the letter, realizing it was from his school, and swallowed. "It's… a letter?"
"Read to me what it says." Britain hissed, crossing his arms.
America opened the letter, and started to read it aloud. "To Britain. This letter was sent out to you to inform you of your child, America's, behavior. He has…" America hesitated. "Been beating up a few certain students-Dad! I can explain it!-"
"-nope, finish the letter." Britain closed his eyes, looking already like he was about to explode with anger.
America's eyes dropped back down into the letter. "His grades have also been dropping down dramatically, from B's to F's. We just wanted to inform you that your son is not only just becoming a student teacher and other students don't want to be around, he is also getting bad grades… sincerely to the School Board of-" America stopped when Britain suddenly slapped him in the face.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?!" Britain screamed, and kicked America to the ground. "Not only are you becoming a f*ckin' monster at home, but also at school!?"
"W-what? N-no!" America choked out, trying to stand back up by grabbing the wall.
Britain kicked America in the ribs, and then started to punch him in the face. "This is what you get, America! I don't feed you everyday, and pay for every little thing you have just for you to insult me in this way!"
America nodded, trying to catch Britain's fists, but gave up and tried to fight back. Britain only stopped after America successfully kicked him in the side. "America, I don't want to pay for your stuff anymore, what grade are you in? 10th?"
"I know what you're going to say, I already have a job." America rasped, gingerly feeling his face with his hands, knowing how bruised it was going to be.
"Well then, use that to buy your stuff. You're lucky you still have France on your side, so she might just feed you, but when it's just me and you, I'm not going to do that."
America nodded slowly, "okay…" He stood up and limped down stairs to the bathroom right by his room. He stared at himself in the mirror, bruises lined around his eyes, and his cheeks were already getting very swollen. America muttered something under his breath, and looked away from his reflection.
All he could see was a fat teenager instead of a bruised kid. America's hands balled up into fists, and he nearly punched his reflection, but he stopped when he felt something in his stomach churn.
He glanced at the mirror again, and his eyes started to play the horrible gut wrenching tricks on him again. His stomach churned again when he felt his face again, then his stomach, which looked pretty strong actually. But what he saw and felt was something else. His mouth started to fill up with spit and America already knew what was going to happen, he wasn't even going to fight it.
Maybe this would help… was all he could think as he swung the toilet lid open and started to hurl his half digested lunch into the toilet. It filled up the toilet a lot, but America's stomach still felt very heavy and full, so he stuck his fingers down his throat which started to make his stomach churn again. He threw up more and more until the toilet had to flush itself because it was too full, and to the point where he felt like an empty shell.
America slowly stood up, and closed the lid to the toilet. He walked over to the sink and washed out his mouth and hands. He then slowly wandered back into his room and laid down on the ground. He felt so tired now.
He closed his eyes and fell asleep, trying his hardest to not think of throwing up into the toilet and getting beat up by his own father again.
~time skip–and few hours or so later~
America awoke to hear his name being called from upstairs, probably from his mother France. He slowly stood, but grimaced when his side started to sting. Flashbacks from what happened a while ago flooded back into his mind. America groaned, knowing that Britain would probably be in a worse mood now. He stood up and walked upstairs. France looked up from the dinner she made, but then her face fell when she saw his face. "Mon fils! What happened to your face!"
America shrugged. "I got into a small fight with the annoying kid at school."
France frowned. "What did I say about fighting people?"
"I can't… say, where's New Zealand?" America asked.
"Upstairs." France said, looking back down at the food she was preparing.
America walked up the stairs and entered his sister's room, but was immediately pushed back out by Canada. "Sorry, brotha, but we're playing barbies with her."
A distant Australian's voice called from inside the room. "There's no room left in the Inn."
America grumbled something. "Now your just being mean, we can share time with our little sister-"
"No we can't." Australia said.
Canada walked out of the room and started to forcefully shove his older brother away from their sister's room. America tried to push back, but Canada quickly realized it and shoved him as hard as he could, which ended up with America being pushed off the edge of the stairs. America landed with a loud thud, and swore he felt like his ribs all broke. He slowly looked up at Canada with a glare and yelled, "What was that for?!"
Canada waved a good bye and started walking back into New Zealand's room. America quickly got back up and ran up to Canada even though he felt like his insides were ripping apart. He grabbed the back of Canada's sweater and yanked it back into him.
Seconds later they were throwing punches at each other. Canada threw a punch at America's gut, which made him gasp in pain, but he quickly retaliated by kicking his brother in the balls as hard as he could.
Canada fell to his knees holding his member in pain, and hissing something under his breath. "You aren't allowed to kick there!" he finally screamed.
"You pushed me down the stairs!" America panted, grabbing his side. He felt like his face was all shades of purple and black by now.
"On accident!" Canada yelled, falling onto his back, but still holding his member tenderly.
And just then Britain walked out of his room. He stopped walking right by Canada, staring down at his two sons, then asked, "who started this?"
"America!" Canada growled.
"What? You are the one who-"
Britain looked up and glared at America. "Save it America, come into my room right now."
America started to breathe harder, and stared down at Canada. As he walked by him, he whispered, "Bitch." to his younger brother.
Canada sneered, still holding onto his balls, "Have fun."
Britain was already in his room waiting for America, so he quickly gave Canada the bird while he could, then walked into the room.
"Close the door behind you." Britain said.
~time skip–two days later~
America sat down in chair, his first period's class was empty except for the teacher who was probably grading a few of the students' work. He pulled out his notebook and then felt the large bandage over his face. It went around his head, and over his eyebrow, the doctor who bandaged him up didn't want to limit his vision. He tried to shift the bandage a bit, but hissed when he felt the stitches and dried blood shift as well, making it feel like the lamp was slamming back down onto his head.
The door to the room opened, and one of the students walked in, but stopped right by America's chair. America looked up in confusion. "What."
It was the new kid, Soviet. "Ooh, what happened to your face?" his face was twisted up to show the look of pity and disgust.
America frowned. "Nothing."
"Obviously something happened." Soviet pushed.
America huffed. "Just an accident at home, alright?"
Soviet then asked. "Did you like… fall into the corner of a table or something?"
"No," America looked up at the teacher for help, he really didn't want to have this conversation. He didn't even want to talk to anyone. It was giving him a major headache.
Soviet must have noticed his uncomfortableness toward the conversation so he just said, "Hey, my name is Soviet. Sorry for intruding into your -uh- space like that i guess."
"It's alright. Nice to meet you Soviet, I'm America." America nodded back. "You just moved here, right?"
"Yeah, I also did homeschool back where I used to live." Soviet muttered, looking a little embarrassed.
"Oh! So this is new to you!" America exclaimed.
Soviet nodded. "Doesn't your head hurt?"
America blinked, "oh, uh, well yeah…but they told me to take these pills so it wouldn't hurt while I was at school."
"So the… head accident was why you weren't at school yesterday?" Soviet asked.
"Yeah…" America said, "hey, why are you in this class? This is only for the kids that don't do their work, or mentally challenged kids."
"I'm new, and have no idea what is going on." Soviet chuckled nervously. "What about you?"
America shrugged. "Mentally challenged, and I'm a very annoying kid in other classes."
"Do you have ADHD, or something?" Soviet raised his eyebrow.
"Yeah… and-hey, do you have any friends?" America quickly changed the subject.
"Yeah, North Korea, China, and a few others." Soviet grinned pridefully.
"Aw, that's nice. Well you can be my friend too, I can show you stuff around here." America smiled a little bit.
Soviet grinned even bigger from sheer happiness, and nodded. "So, friends?" he held out his hand for America to shake or something like that.
America hesitantly grabbed Soviet's hand, but eventually did and shook it as aggressively as he could, which Soviet was already doing.
The bell rang and that was when America realized half the class was already filled with other students. Soviet walked back over to his desk.
Class started with the teacher asking them to get out their books.
America sighed and pulled out the book the class was reading together, and started to follow along, but couldn't help but reach up and touch the bandage around his head one last time.
He winced in pain when he felt the long scar, and where the stitches were, he put his hand down and followed along with the book.
~time skip~
"Okay, and over there is the park, and over there is… uh…" America paused, pointing down a road that he had completely forgotten led to.
He was walking Soviet home because he wanted to get to know this guy more, and because he just really didn't want to go home to where his family was.
"I'm pretty sure that leads to shops and stuff." Soviet said, his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a light brown hoodie and navy blue jeans with white shoes that went above his ankles. He was also wearing an orangey brown beanie.
America, on the other hand, was wearing a light gray hoodie with black jeans, and was wearing checkered Vans. he had his hoodie on over his black hat. "And behind all the shops is the beach. But there's only a few ways to get down to the beach."
"What do you mean by that?" Soviet asked.
"There's a steep cliff, and in some places on the cliff side there are sharp rocks below." America replied, stuffing his own hands in his pockets.
"Jeez, dangerous much?" Soviet asked.
"Yeah, so where do you live?" America questioned.
"Not far from here, I live alone with my dad too." Soviet said.
"Do you like your dad?" America asked, expecting a 'no'.
"Sometimes. But he limits my options. I can't do certain things, which is annoying sometimes. But other than that, he's pretty good." Soviet informed his friend. "What about you?"
"Not really. He isn't… that nice." America looked down onto the sidewalk.
"Hmm. Where do you live?" Soviet asked.
"I live back there." America pointed his thumb behind him.
"Oh, who do you live with, i know your dad, but…-"
America responded with, "I have 3 siblings, and a mom and dad. Two of my brothers are sorta mean sometimes, but not all the time. The youngest is in 1st grade. She's really funny. " America informed him.
"Ah, well this is my house. Thanks for showing me around. I'll see you tomorrow." Soviet started walking up the driveway, waving to America.
America waved back.
~time skip~
America slowly opened the front door, looking around nervously. He had ended up staying at the beach the entire day, and it was probably around his curfew. He was trying his hardest to not think about coming back while at the beach to the point where he thought of just not coming back. But he knew what would happen if you tried to run away. He tried it once and Britain nearly killed him for it.
America walked into the living room, cautiously walking through the house. The Tv was on, and France was watching one of her shows, casually smoking a cigarette. America held his breath as he walked past the room she was in, and slowly crept over to stairs let down to his room.
"America."
America jumped, nearly screaming with fear, but ended up just flinching really hard. His entire shoulders raising in a second and his head lowering. America quickly turned around, covering his face with his hands. "Sorry-"
"Woah, calm down!" Australia laughed.
After figuring out that it was just Australia, America let out a relieved breath out. "Oh, sorry. What is it?"
"Where were you?" Australia.
"At the beach…?" America
Australia frowned. "Didn't mom tell you not to get wet? Cause your face?"
America nodded. "I didn't go in the water."
Britain had 'gone to the bathroom' after throwing the lamp at America, and it was France who found America bleeding all over their room. She had Canada rush America to the hospital because she was still making dinner and Canada had his license. Britain then lied that it must have been an accident that America had his face split open by the lamp. He said America must've just tripped and had landed on the lamp.
No one ever questioned about the lamp laying in the middle of the room, and the shards being all over the place.
Australia walked back upstairs to his room, and America slowly crept downstairs, and just hoped no one but him would end up down there.
He held his breath for a second, and waited to hear if anyone was down there.
There was no noise.
America slowly crept into the bathroom and took a shower. As he did, he glanced at the shaving razor. He slowly lifted his hand to grab it. He stared at the razor for a second, then glanced at his thigh.
He quickly shook his head and reminded himself, i already shaved, I don't need to touch it. But something in him made him put his pointer finger on the back of the razor part and press it against his thigh. He pushed down as hard as he could, then slowly slid it along the length of his leg. Finally he aggressively pushed the razor down his entire leg. There was no blood at first, but seconds later, blood started to spill out of his leg. The deep cuts drove the most blood.
The feeling of having his skin cut by himself seemed so… mesmerizing. So… satisfying. So…
Deserved.
America quickly put the razor back onto the small shelf by the soap and got out of the shower.
He did the rest of his business in the bathroom, which included removing the bandage around his head, and replacing it. Then he left and entered his room. He slowly undid the towel and stared at the large upside down L cut on his thigh. He slowly grinned. It felt better than the drugs the doctor gave him when he was having his head sewn up.
Then he remembered, he still had to take them to make sure head pains wouldn't start happening again. America walked over to his dresser and popped open the bottle, and took 2 out.
~time skip–next day after school~
America was starting to become better friends even though he only met him yesterday. Soviet was a lot nicer than America thought he was, and was quite surprised to figure out that he also had a mental disorder as well; ADD.
So he was quite alone with that.
Though, at the moment, he was dressed in black sweats and had a light gray, oversized T-shirt tucked under the sweats. He was sitting in the kitchen mopping the floor because the floor looked crusty, musty, and France told him too.
As he was finishing up, he realized someone was watching him. America looked up in confusion, and as soon as he realized who it was, the blood flushed out of his face, making his face look like a sheet of paper.
"Oh, hey dad!" America said, faking to be happy.
"Let me see your face." Britain demanded, stepping right up into America's face.
"What-?" America asked, but Britain was already taking off the bandage on his face.
When Britain saw the giant wound down America's face, he frowned. "That's gonna leave a really ugly scar," he said nonchalantly.
"Sorry, what-?" America asked again, still very confused and scared. Britain pocked one of his fingers into the wound, which caused America to step back in pain. "What the hell?!" America yelled.
"I was seeing-"
"-no! No, you were trying to make it hurt again!" America exclaimed.
Britain glared at him. "You don't want another one of those scars over the other eye, now do you?" he whispered.
America scanned his father, trying to figure out if he was just leading him on, but he knew him better than that. He was being serious. "I-i'm sorry."
Britain sneered, and walked off to probably talk to France. America quickly got rid of the mopping equipment and went downstairs.
He sighed as he sat down on his bed, then got back up and put on a pair of shoes, knowing he had work in 10 minutes.
He ran back upstairs and grabbed the keys to his truck, and yelled. "I'm going to work!"
He chose life, after all. (at the moment he did)
~time skip—one year ('cause this is a oneshot, and i can do whatever i want, plus idk what to write in between)~
America fell over with laughter as Soviet came up with another bad joke. "No! You can't say that!" America wheezed.
"Why? Is it illegal?" Soviet asked, grinning a bit.
"No! But isn't it like-a racist slur?!" America gasped for air, laughing so hard was starting to play a role on him.
Soviet shrugged. "Well, how would I know?"
America chuckled, "Well, let's talk about something else, do you have anything going on this week?"
Soviet shrugged. "How would I know? But if you amplying if i could have you come over, then totally."
"Good, cause guess what!" America said, his smile disappearing, which made Soviet's disappear as well. "My parents and I are going to be all alone at home. Nada, Aussie, and Miss. Fluff are going to their friend's house for two nights."
"Uh oh, I'm totally gonna come pick you up… well, at least one of those nights i will. My dad will probably not allow you to come over back to back nights." Soviet explained.
"That's fine, that's fine. Pick me up on Sunday then." America said.
It was Friday after all, so he could probably handle being by himself for one day, alone, with his parents.
"You should just get extra hours for your work on Saturday then, or night shift." Soviet suggested.
"I probably should." America agreed. "Thanks. Maybe you could also just hang out all day on Saturday, and then at 5 or something go back home."
"Maybe, but wouldn't your parents get mad at you? Like my dad would probably say, 'You're spending your family time with friends! Grr!'." Soviet mocked.
America chuckled, glancing at his friend with a reassuring smile. "Probably, and my dad would probably yell, 'Bloody hell! Why aren't you removing the bacteria from the grass outside?!'." America imitated his father's voice, and making the British accent a lot more stereotypical.
Soviet laughed. "No, for real though, I've heard him say something like that once, I swear."
"You probably did." America chuckled, putting his hands into his black sweaters pocket.
They both walked over to Soviet's house in a comfortable silence.
~next day-right after work for America~
America walked into the house and flicked on the light, and looked around really quickly to see if any of his parent's were up. He didn't expect them to be, because it was past midnight. He put his car keys into the soup bowl where the other keys were, it stayed on the marble counter, out of the way and near the door.
America slowly slipped into the kitchen, then started to go downstairs, when he swore he heard something over in the living room. America decided to check it out, and slowly crept over through the kitchen and peeked into the living room. His eyebrow furrowed when he realized someone was standing there, but looked very unsteady. America flicked on the light to see who it was, then quickly turned off the light, and started to speed walk downstairs again.
"America! Get back here!" Britain yelled, chucking the bottle in his hand at America, which struck right in the shoulder blade.
"What do you want?!" America yelled back.
"WATCH YOUR BLOODY TONE WITH-!"
"-dad! Mom is sleeping! Be quiet!" America hissed, glancing upstairs.
But it was too late, France was walking out of their room with a glass of wine in her hand, and a cigarette in the other hand.
"Oh gosh, you're both drunk?!" America exclaimed, only yelling because he was scared, and positive nothing good was going to come out of this.
"What's going on down here? France is trying to sleep." France asked, sticking the cigarette back in her mouth and taking a large inhale.
"Mom, go to bed." America said, glaring at her, all the while rubbing his shoulder blade.
Britain then started walking over to America, holding something in his left hand. "America, where were you today? We needed help cleaning up the house."
"I was at work?"
"No, this morning? Like, you weren't here this morning?" Britain asked again, his voice slightly cracking.
"I was… uh, walking to work." America lied.
France let out a long exhale, smoke filling the air around here. "Really? Was that red guy walking you to work?"
"Soviet? That's you friend! You weren't-" Britain yelled and took another few steps toward America, still holding the object in his left hand.
America shook his head. "Guys, guys, please, let's talk about this in the morning. I was just at work, and that's all you guys need to be worried about. Please just calm down!"
"No, no, no… I'm sick and tired of seeing you just using us!" Britain screamed, advancing on America.
"I-i'm not using you… your my parents, and you guys only have a year left of being around me! Only a year! Please, just let me stay here until I graduate High School." America pleaded. "And please, I'm sick and tired of paying for my hospital bill when you guys cause harm to me! It's not fair!" America said, his eyes starting to get wet because he realized what was in Britain's hand, and that he knew what Britain was going to do with it.
Britain sneered, and switched his position on the knife in his left hand, "you're too expensive to have around, America."
He swung the knife straight into America's eye, who quickly screeched out in agony. America quickly grabbed the knife's handle and tried to pull it out, but both of Britain's hands were now pressing it into his socket.
France's eyes widened and she quickly dropped her glass, stuck the cigarette into her mouth, and stumbled into her room. She first was too overwhelmed to do anything, and only just wrapped herself in the blankets in her and her husband's bed. But then after laying there for a minute, and hearing the yelling downstairs, one logical thing came into her mind, call 911.
She quickly grabbed her phone and shakingly called the number.
~time skip–bruh idk how long~
America stared at the mirror the nurse was holding for him. "I suggest taking this pill for a few more weeks, and talk to a doctor a few times. Try not to make too many face movements, or it'll be very very painful." the nurse went on and on about some more useless stuff America wasn't listening to.
He was more fixated on his reflection. His eyes had a huge bandage over it, and the blood was already seeping through. "How often do I have to change the bandages?"
"For two weeks you will have to wear that type of bandage, and you will change it whenever the blood seeps through, which can vary." the nurse informed him.
America raised his arm to gingerly feel the bandage, and slightly winced, but he knew how painful it was to make expressions. "After two weeks?"
The nurse held up a smaller pad, and said, "you will just put this over the wound, it will stick nicely, and comfortably around the wound, and the actual bandage will comfort the actual wound." she explained.
"Okay… and I'm leaving today, right?" America asked.
"Yes." the nurse lowered the mirror, and the bandages, "i will supply you more than enough bandages for the time being-"
"-what about my father? When will he be excused from the hospital?" America asked, knowing full well his father was here.
After he had been stabbed a few times in the face, he was able to grab one of the sharp decorations on the table, and was able to successfully stab his father in the chest. Britain must have gone out of his phase, because he looked very confused after that.
"He was excused a week ago." the nurse replied, with a polite nod. "I believe he is being talked to by the police by now."
"Why…?"
"For stabbing you?"
"Who told the police that?"
"France, your mother. She said he had stabbed you when you started yelling at him." the nurse said, looking a little confused
"Oh… she… saw that?" America asked, very shocked.
"Y-yes? Was she not-"
"-no, she's just never seen that happen before, this is… shocking."
"Before? You say that as if something like this has happened before…?" the nurse said, looking worried.
"It has… but he's never stabbed me. Only punched or kicked me, and stuff like that." America said, his voice lowering down to a whisper.
"Oh my, I'm going to have to report that later." the nurse whispered to herself specifically.
She leaned over and helped America out of the hospital bed, a few times he missed her hand because his depth perception was very off. Finally she was able to lead him out of the room and towards the doctor who was going to lead him to the entrance, where his ride would supposedly be waiting for him.
America still felt very numb to the situation he was stuck in. He didn't know how to feel about it. Firstly, he was missing an eye now. Two, they found his self harm scars, and fresh cuts. Three, they also found out he had a problem with actually digesting his food. And now he had to stay in this certain place in the hospital he forgot (he only remembers things he thinks are important), and could visit his family every other day… like he'd like to see them at all. He would really only use that time to visit Soviet, who only knew he was in the hospital for all these months.
He glanced up when the sliding doors opened and he saw Canada sitting at the driver's seat, waiting for him outside of the hospital. America sighed when he realized it was only Canada in the car, and he even looked like he had better things to do. He frowned, and thought, what am I even expecting from them anymore?
~time skip—few days later, it's his break to see his family again~
America hesitantly walked up to Soviet's house. His stomach was churning and twisting. Everything in his mind was telling him Soviet wouldn't like to be his friend anymore because he looked like a monster now. But a tiny bit of him that lived in the darkest part of his brain begged a differ and made him knock on the door.
There was no reply for a moment until he heard a slow pair of footsteps come towards the door. America's fists tightened up, and he looked around quickly. The door opened and Soviet's face peered through the crack. Soviet must have not recognized America because he asked, "What are you doing here?"
"I just came to visit and see if you were doing better than I was." America's voice must have been recognizable because Soviet swung open the door and bear hugged America.
America lifted his head up so the bandage wouldn't be caught in Soviet's arms.
"Oh my gosh, America! I thought you died! I heard this rumor that someone stabbed you!" Soviet pulled back and inspected the bandage, being very careful to not hurt him.
"Yes," America sighed. "I was stabbed in the eye."
"By who?" Soviet asked desperately. "And wasn't it right after you got back from work?"
"Yes, it was right after I got back from work, and it was… my dad. He was really drunk and must have been very nervous about where I was, and of course it turned into anger…" America explained, trying to defend his father.
"That is no reason your own father should have STABBED you!" Soviet hugged America again, "Боже мой… I'm so sorry that happened to you… i should've had you come over that day, and then maybe-"
"-Hey, hey, it's not your fault. It's only my father's fault-ish." America reassured, patting Soviet's back. He then smelled something familiar on Soviet's light gray sweater. "Hey, you smell of alcohol…"
"What?" Soviet asked, pulling away.
"Your jacket." America gave Soviet Union a suspicious look.
Soviet nodded with understanding. "Oooh, yeah, there was a party that happened last night. My father forced me to go with China, and told me it would make me feel better about you and your hospitalization. Y'know you really scared me."
"Hey, I'm alright." America gave his friend a small smile. "How was that party?"
"Too many people, not enough drinks." Soviet sighed.
"How does the -uh- alcohol taste?"
Soviet gave America a shock. "Have you never-!"
"Never." America lied. He had it before, but now he didn't even want to think about drinking it after seeing his father and mother like that. And what it could lead to.
Soviet started a rant about the tastes of all the alcohol he's had, and how good they were. His favorite, and he made it clear, was pure vodka.
"Aw, that's -uh- nice… so you went with China? How was she like there?" America asked.
"She was really nice. I… like her a lot. She gets me, like a lot." Soviet blushed.
Something inside of America's chest shattered. "Like, a crush? Or like… love?"
"Love… I really want to ask her out." Soviet held his face in his hands, but was obviously grinning.
Whatever broke in America's chest was started to dig into all his insides with all its broken, sharp pieces. "Wow! I'm so proud of you." America patted Soviet's shoulder, a fake grin set on his face. "You should totally ask her out. You and her are like… a match made in… heaven." America said, faking the enthusiasm.
Soviet grinned. "Thanks, I was thinking of asking her out this week, on Monday. Are you going to be there on Monday?"
"Probably not." Thankfully, I don't think I could bear to watch that. Something in America hated the thought of having Soviet be with China. Was he just being greedy, and overprotective?
Soviet needs this. America repeated over and over in his mind until he believed it as he said goodbye and goodluck to Soviet.
America slowly walked back home, staring blankly at the sidewalk. His eye started to become wet, and in a second tears were running down his cheek. America couldn't feel anything but pure depression. It felt like something in him was missing. He just felt empty as if he lost everything.
Absolutely everything.
Everything was becoming gray and blotchy. Everything seemed dull. The only thing that made him happy was liking someone else more than him. What was he then? Just… the second suggestion?
No, he was expecting too much from one person. There was no way this guy would like him back, especially because he was the same sex. He had fallen in love by accident. He didn't even try. He didn't even want to.
America stopped walking and let in a shaky breath. He put his gloved hand to his chest and closed his eye, pushing more tears down that cheek. He then opened it, and stared at the sidewalk, then down the road to where the beach was.
~time skip—a few weeks later because i'm lazy and tired~
China and Soviet were a thing now. They absolutely loved each other, and they wouldn't go anywhere without each other. Every single time America tried to talk to Soviet alone, China would pop out of nowhere.
China even successfully made Soviet a little more meaner than usual. Soviet would now talk a lot more about your looks, and what he thought. Sure, maybe his 'true side' was coming out because of China. But maybe not.
But it stung so bad to see Soviet so much happier around China. And it hurt more when Soviet would try to ignore America. And it hurt much, much more when Soviet would casually tease America for things he knew America thought very strongly about. Like his looks, and what he wore. And sometimes even things he couldn't even control.
But at the moment, America was walking to their shared last period, Math. Soviet was humming something under his breath, and America immediately recognized that it was China's favorite song.
Soviet glanced down at America and said, "Why do you always wear those sunglasses?"
America had been wearing sunglasses ever since he was allowed to go back to school. He truly just didn't want to be picked on by the giant scar on his face, and his one eye. "You know why." America rasped, staring at the floor as if he was making sure it wouldn't try to trip him or something.
Soviet nodded. "That ugly scar on your eye, I remember."
America's breath hitched, and he tried to keep down his feelings. He just wanted to strangle Soviet so hard, but he also wanted to run away and cry as hard as he could. But he knew he couldn't do either. They were both stupid options. So he kept a straight face. "Heh, yeah, that really ugly scar I got…"
Soviet snickered. "China knows by the way. I trusted her with the information, and she asked me why you wore the sunglasses just suddenly."
America quickly glanced up at Soviet. "W-what?! Why would you tell her that?!"
Soviet raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather me tell her you thought you were just so cool to wear them everyday?"
America felt the broken pieces of his heart sink deeper into his insides, and he could hear his trust and feeling being thrown into the garbage. "N-no… but you just didn't need to tell her. I thought you would've known I was scared of peoples thoughts of it…"
"Well we all expected it to be something bad." Soviet frowned. "It's so sad to see such a nice looking man grow into a uglier, and more scared shell of his former self." he muttered, but was obviously still talking to him.
Suddenly everything stopped in America's world. America stopped walking and he watched Soviet walk into the Math class. His thoughts stopped, he almost stopped breathing.
He heard the bell ring the background of his mind, but he couldn't care enough to pay attention. Instead he numbly walked into the bathroom and locked himself in a stall. He leaned against the side of the stall, and stared at the marks along the stall, which most of it was curses at whoever was reading it.
Tears started to run down America's eye, but his face remained neutral.
~time skip–after school~
Soviet started rinsing off his dish, he was washing the kitchen down after he and his father were having dinner. He was having a rant about how stupid some kids were that day at school. "And this kid just kept on doing. He was like deaf or something, everyone wanted the kid to shut up."
The Russian Empire was listening intently to every word his son spoke. He sat at the dinner table, just watching him finish the dishes.
"And you also know about America's scar? Well China asked me about the sunglasses he now wears daily, and so I told her that he has this huge, fat, ugly scar under it, and is just hiding it because he's a pussy." Soviet sneered. "And then when I told him I told China his little 'secret' because I wanted to make sure he was okay with that, he got all scared and angry about it and exploded at me for telling her that." he exclaimed, and started to dry the dish. "He's been acting so differently lately, like… I don't know! What's wrong with him? Why's he getting mad at me?!"
"Because you made fun of him, and because you spilled one of his secrets without his permission." Russian Empire responded simply.
"I didn't make fun of him." Soviet growled. "I was just saying what I wanted to say. Isn't that what you always told me to do?"
"Yes, but when it comes to calling someone a pussy, and making fun of scars they can't control, then you should probably just keep it yourself." Russian Empire shrugged. "And from what I'm hearing, it's you who's acting more differently. And plus, he's been through a lot. He's been through a cycle of abuse from his family, and then was stabbed. For heaven's sake, leave him alone if you don't want to be a real friend."
"A real friend? I am a real friend!" Soviet yelled, and turned around, glaring at his father.
"Would a real friend call you a pussy? And make fun of you?" his father asked, raising an eyebrow.
Soviet's eyebrows knitted. "No, but-"
"And i heard you and China talk about him once, and she called him a p*nsy, and then you agreed. You do realize that's very offensive." he said.
Soviet's eyes widened. "You heard that?"
"Yes. And I think it's ever since you let this China into your life, she's made you more of a bully. You used to never say something mean about anyone just a few months ago." Russian Empire shrugged.
"I-..." Soviet slowly started to realize that it actually was him. "Oh…"
"You should, at school, apologize." Soviet's father suggested.
Soviet nodded, then walked upstairs to his room and face planted into his bed.
~time skip—morning~
Soviet was running up and down the halls, yelling America's name, but he couldn't find him. He checked everywhere. China had finally caught up to Soviet and gave him a kiss on the cheek and asked, "what's wrong?"
"I need to find America. Have you seen him this morning?" Soviet asked frantically.
"No?" China said. "Why the hell do you need to see him?"
"I need to tell him something. Are you sure you haven't seen him?" Soviet asked again.
"I wouldn't lie to you, darling. Why not look for him? Have you checked your first class? Wasn't it like… Study Skills? Again?"
"Yeah, but I don't have Study Skills anymore. It's just America in that class." Soviet corrected her.
They both ran into the class and asked the teacher if she had seen America. The teacher said, "Sorry, I haven't. He might be sick today. And you two better go to your class before you're late, the bell just rang."
As they walked down the hall together, China said. "Hey, maybe you can find, uhm, him in your Math class!"
Soviet nodded slowly.
~time skip–after school~
Soviet hadn't found America at all that day at school, so he headed home and dropped his stuff off at home. Then called China to see if she would like to go to the shop that sold the really nice hot chocolate.
"Hey China, would you like to-"
"-hey, uhm, darling, honey, baby… ugh," she was panting over the phone as if she was running a marathon. "I-i can't do anything today. -uh~... Sorry baby. Maybe tomorrow or- UH~!" she suddenly hung up.
Soviet glanced down at the phone in confusion, wondering what the heck was going on with China. "Maybe called her at the wrong time or something," he said to himself.
Soviet decided to go walk over to America's house, and see if he was there and if he could and would like to go down to get a drink at the shop.
It took him a while to arrive, but when he did he quickly knocked and waited for an answer. Finally the door swung open by a little lady. Soviet grinned, "Hi, New Zealand."
"Hello," she said. "What do you need?"
"Is America at home by any chance?"
Suddenly France walked up to the door, a cigarette in her hand. "No? Wasn't he with you?"
"No. He wasn't even at school." Soviet said, looking confused.
"Ugh, that d*mn teenager… he said after school he'd be hanging out with you! So he's not?" France asked, and put her cigarette to her lips.
"No…" Soviet said.
New Zealand creeped back away from the door. France shrugged and breathed out a lungful of smoke. "Maybe he's hiding in his room or something. You can go check."
She opened the door all the way so Soviet could walk in. He made his way to the stairs that led downstairs before he could already smell something bad in the air coming from downstairs. He grimaced and walked downstairs and into America's room.
There were clothes all over the floor, and torn off pages from a notebook, probably, that were crumpled up into a ball. Soviet looked around and called America's name. "Hey America, it's me, Soviet. I'm here to apologize, and to take you out for some hot chocolate…" he frowned when there was no response and not even the sound of something being in the room.
He decided to check the bathroom and walked in there. He looked around for a second, when he realized something smelled a little different here. Like iron or something. Soviet's nose wrinkled, and he checked for something that could let out that sort of smell. He checked the towels that were dyed red. But when he touched them, they felt very, very hard. As if something was put on them and then it dried. "Ew." Soviet grumbled. He checked the drawers and looked over a few things. A few bottles of pills, probably for pain and/or his ADHD, he then saw a few pencil sharpeners in there as well. Confused, he picked them up and set them on the counter, he checked the drawer again and found a small screwdriver. "What the heck?" he asked himself.
He then took a closer look at blades on the pencil sharpeners. His eyes widened when he realized an orangey color along the sharp edges. He gasped in shock, and remembered what his old Health class had told about self harm. He quickly glanced at the towels and sniffed them. They totally smelled like iron. He then went through the larger drawer under the sink. There laid, in a small basket, were a few wraps of bandages.
Soviet swallowed and then looked over at the shower. He slowly stepped over there, glancing at the floor to see if there was any blood along the floor as well. He swung the curtain to the side, and his stomach churned when he saw the floor of the shower was near the color of orange, and that most of the iron smell was coming from the shower.
He quickly walked out of the bathroom and ran upstairs. "France! Go check out your son's bathroom immediately! I'm going to see where America went."
France gave Soviet a weird look as he ran out the front door, but eventually told Australia to look downstairs for anything.
Soviet quickly ran down the street and thought of the beach first. It was a big topic America would usually talk about, and he was almost positive he was going to be there.
It was also starting to get a little dark because it was winter, and starting to get pretty cold. Soviet quickly arrived into the small shop area, and stopped to get some air in his lungs. Then quickly started running towards the beach again. He was freaking out because he did take note of a few random things he saw on the way downstairs. His backpack was missing, a few of their knives were missing from the knife block, and the papers were ripped drawings of creepy looking people, and some were even letters of some sort.
Soviet ran towards the entrance to the beach, and quickly looked around the top of the beach, but saw nothing. He turned on his phone's flashlight and shined it around. Still he saw no one. Frustrated tears started to fill up his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away and ran down the steep hill to see if there was anyone down by the water. He shined his phone's flashlight again around, but yet again, there was nothing and no one. He shined the water surface, but still saw no one.
He hissed under his breath and started to run to his left, having a strong feeling that maybe, just maybe, America would be standing over there.
He flashed his light around the side of the cliff, and the water. He saw rocks jutting out of the water, and the cliff was a sheer drop. He scanned the light over the water, just to see if anything was there. Then he scanned the cliff, to see if anything was there.
He spotted a small hole in the side of the cliff and quickly ran over to it. It was a tight fit to get inside whatever it was, but there was a small draft, so it was probably a big cave. He shined the light inside of the hole, and realized that it was giant. He squeezed into the small entrance and scanned the cave. There was a little bit of water pooled at the bottom of it, but other than that it was dry.
Soviet scanned the cave with his light when he spotted something. He quickly found his way over to it, but slowed down when he saw a small trail of blood leading to the body. Soviet's heart was racing now. Was this a murder he stumbled across?
He was now standing right over the body that was turned away from him, he grabbed the person's shoulder and pulled them onto their back. Soviet gasped, and tears started to run down his cheeks. It was America, and his scar over his eye was freshly opened. He checked the rest of America's body for more wounds and found the deepest cuts he could find lining up and down America's wrists, which made his heart lurch.
Soviet checked America's pulse, it was barely there. He quickly called 911, and as he talked to them, he checked for more wounds.
"-Yes, my friend America is down by the beach, to the left and into this small cave. He's bleeding from… e-everywhere." Soviet chokes out, barely able to speak from the lump in his throat.
As the operator talked to him, he found several stabs in America's stomach, and one of the knives was still in him. Soviet glanced at his hands, blood covering them from checking America's body from any other wounds. He put the operator on speaker so he could use the flashlight and check America's clothes. They were completely drenched in blood.
"Alright, we are sending a squad over, please stay on the line."
"When are they going to arrive? He needs them." Soviet asked, sobbing uncontrollably.
"In just a few minutes. Have you checked his pulse?"
"Yes, his heart is barely beating. What can I do?!" Soviet asked.
The operator was silent for a second, probably talking to another person in the area. "Try stopping the blood from coming out of him. Do you have a jacket or something on you? Try to gently press it over the wounds to keep them from bleeding as much."
Soviet nodded, and set the phone down on a rock. "Okay, okay…" he said shakingly. He slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around America's stomach, and slightly pressed down on it. "I only have a jacket, and he's bleeding from his arms and legs! What should I do?!"Soviet started to freak out.
"Where is most of the blood coming out from?"
"His wrists and stomach…" Soviet guessed, his tears were making it hard to see where most of the blood was coming out.
"Try to wrap your jacket over both."
Soviet attempted to, but thought it was just a really bad idea, so he tore off his thick long sleeve shirt even though it was freezing. He gingerly set Ameria's wrists together, not touching, but pretty close. Then he wrapped his shirt around his friend's wrists.
"Okay, I wrapped him up. What do I do now?" Soviet asked.
"Try to check his pulse again."
Soviet did that, it was still there, but weaker. "It's getting weaker, what the f*ck do I do?!" he yelled whilst sobbing harder.
"First you need to calm down, the squad should be there shortly. Try to get their attention because you said it was pretty hard to see." the operator said, sounding disgustingly calm about the situation.
"Fine, fine." Soviet growled, and ran to the entrance with his phone. He poked his head out along with his phone and immediately spotted the police officers and doctors running along the beach side. He raised his flashlight up above and yelled, "OVER HERE! HE'S OVER HERE! HURRY!"
~time skip~
Soviet sat right beside the hospital bed. He was listening to the doctor, and couldn't help but let a few tears fall out.
"From the wounds, from the weapons he had on him, and from his past hospital record, we're positive it was a suicide attempt." the doctor said, obviously sounding pretty sad. "From how much blood he lost he will be staying on life support for a while, and blood transplants."
"What was his condition before this? Like his history… I only heard he was abused and had his eye stabbed by his father." Soviet asked, his voice sounding deeper than before.
The doctor hesitated. "...self harm cuts along his thighs, serious self harm cuts. He had to stay in the hospital for a while to sort it out with psychiatrists and therapists." the doctor informed him. "You are his best friend right?"
"Right." Soviet muttered. "When will he wake up?"
The doctor looked up at America, flinching a little bit. "He is in a coma… he won't wake up for a long time…"
Soviet choked on the air he was breathing, but he slowly nodded. "Have you contacted his family?"
"We've tried, but they won't respond." the doctor replied solemnly. "Which is odd."
Soviet frowned. "Probably don't want to pay the medical bills for him again."
The doctor nodded sadly. "It sad to see our patients like this, and have their own family's not even give a f*ck about it."
"Truly, and it even makes me feel a little angry." Soviet growled.
The doctor nodded, and left Soviet alone with the sleeping American. Soviet wiped his tears and stared at America.
His friend was nearly bandaged head to toe. Half of his face was covered, and both of his arms were covered with bloody bandages, his stomach as well, and his legs. America had to get stitched up almost everywhere as well, his eye, stomach, certain parts of his thigh and wrists too.
It was horrible to see America in this state. He didn't even know how his friend was going through this, and was thinking such dark thoughts. And Soviet just acting like a b*tch must have made it even worse.
Soviet's phone buzzed and he glanced down at it. China had texted him a few times, and he had a missed call from his dad. He first called his father.
"Hey dad."
"Where were you last night? And right now?!" Russian Empire yelled through the phone.
Soviet slightly flinched, but then said. "I'm with America right now…"
"And how is he?"
"Asleep."
"So you're watching him sleep."
"Something like that, but not as creepy."
Russian Empire was silent for a second. "France has been calling me telling me you ran into their house then yelled at them to go look downstairs."
Soviet went pale. "Well I went over there to see if America was there. He wasn't, so France said I could go look. I looked and found some… stuff down there. I then went to the beach and found him there."
"And you yelled at them to check America's bathroom?"
"Yes. I wanted them to see it themselves."
"Well France said Australia did, but he saw nothing."
Soviet frowned. "He probably didn't even look."
"Alright, where are you? I'm coming to pick you up."
"Dad, i'm literally a Senior, i think i can-"
"-Where are you? I'm picking you up."
Soviet grumbled a string of curses out under his breath, then shakingly said, "I'm at the hospital 30 minutes away from where our house is."
"The hospital? What?"
"Just come over and you'll see."
~time skip~
Russian Empire was pacing around the small hospital room, trying to get France to answer the phone. Meanwhile Soviet was trying to softly wake America up, all the while checking his vitals every other 10 seconds.
France must have finally answered the phone because Soviet's father was starting to yell at the phone. "My gosh France! You better come to the hospital and check up on your son! He is on life support!"
Russian Empire quickly put it on speaker so Soviet could hear it.
"Uhm… I'm sorry, but I'm dealing with 3 kids over here, and I'm a single mother right now… did you know my husband is in jail right now?" She sounded so drowsy, but it was 6 in the morning.
"You son is on life support, cyka. I will send someone over there to watch you kids, who are able to care for themselves for an hour, if you really need it." Russian Empire yelled.
"It's 6 in the morning for heaven's sake, give me an hour to get ready… i have to get-"
Russian Empire just hung up after that, and aggressively shoved the phone into his pocket. Then he turned around and looked at America with a look of pity. "Gosh, i'm so sorry your family's sh*t, if i could i'd adopt you."
Soviet smiled softly at his father, then looked back over at America. He reached over and gingerly held his friend's hand. "I'm sorry, America."
~time skip—few months later (his body started to function, so they took him off life support btw *idk even if that's how it works*)~
America opened his eye, and found himself in a dark room. "What the f*ck…" he muttered and glanced around. "I wasn't supposed to wake up." he tried to get up, but everything in his body stung and ached. America's breath hitched, and he tried to look around, but his face started to burn as well. He started to hyperventilate, wondering what the hell was going on.
Suddenly a light flickered beside him, a small little green one. America stared at it in confusion, but as he became adjusted to the dark, he started to realize he was in a room, in a bed, and there were several machines right beside him. There were also many little lights in the room, so America quickly assumed he was in a hospital. "Oh God, oh God… please no…" he whispered to himself.
He quickly tried to get up, despite the agonizing pain. He looked around again, saw the door, opened just for him to run out. America stood up, and immediately he fell backward into the pain, he quickly covered his mouth with his hands. He nearly screamed out in pain. His legs felt so fragile, and his stomach just felt just as awful. His arms stung as well, so it made it hard to move his arms around.
America closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He had to get out of here. As he lifted his hand again to grab something to help him up, he felt something in his wrist, under all the bandages. America felt it and realized it was an IV. he looked around to wear it connected, then just decided he didn't give a sh*t, and just yanked it out.
He started to feel a little woozy, but he still forced himself to stand up and walk towards the door. Everything in him hurt so bad, that he had to lean up against the door. He glanced down the hall and saw what looked like an elevator. He started to walk to the elevator, when he slightly felt himself. He stopped walking and looked down at himself. He realized two things. One, he looked like a mummy. Two, he didn't have any actual clothes on, he was only bandaged up head to toe. He quickly looked around for any sort of clothing he could wear before leaving.
He eventually did and quickly grabbed the biggest hospital gown he could, and slipped it on, trying his hardest not to cry with pain. Finally he started making his way to the elevator. He pushed the button and waited for it to arrive. As he did, he glanced around the hallway, he could hear someone talking to another person. America squinted to see if he could see it, but everything was this blurry mess, and nothing was standing still, everything was waving and moving around.
America groaned uncomfortably, but eventually the elevator door opened and he was able to get it. He looked at the buttons, and pushed the lowest one. Or he guessed, the numbers were blurring together.
The elevator eventually opened, and America blinked when his eyes were met with a lot of lights. It was all white and very bright on the level, and everything was so blurry. America stumbled out of the elevator and made his way toward the entrance, or the exit to him.
But when he started making his way over there, he heard his name being called. America tried to ignore it, but then he started to freak out when he heard someone was running towards him, immediately assuming something creepy was chasing him. He forced himself to start running, even though he didn't even know where he was running anymore. Whoever it was chasing him, grabbed his shoulder and swung him around. America, still being pretty high from the drugs they injected him with to keep the pain away, immediately lost balance and started falling backwards. He screamed in fear, and covered his face with his hands. "PLEASE DON'T HURT ME WHATEVER THE F*CK YOU ARE!" America startled to violently shake with adrenaline and fear.
The doctor grabbed him and slowly lowered him to the ground. "America, w-what are you doing out of your room!?" the doctor demanded with every ounce of surprise.
"Im… leaving?" America exclaimed, his voice ended up coming out a lot louder than intended.
"No, no, no… you staying here." the doctor replied.
"Forever?" America's eyebrows furrowed.
The doctor flinched. "Here, let's get you onto a comfortable surface." He led America to the couches and then set him there, then sat down beside his patient. "Look, your… mother, France, she, well, disowned you."
America frowned. "Sounds like her…" he muttered.
"And you aren't in the right… place to leave any time soon." the doctor tried to explain.
"So this is my home now…?" America asked.
"Sort of, unless we can get someone to adopt you-"
"-no, i'm going into college, i don't need-"
"-you won't be able to make it to college, America. A mistake happened and you got a major head concussion." the doctor explained, looking very sorrowful.
"What does that have to do with college?" America asked, looking very confused.
"You aren't going to be able to take things that you usually could without… er… you just won't behave the same as you did before…" the doctor explained.
"...w-what? But I'm still me, right?" America asked.
"Yes, you are still you. But… well, you probably don't remember it, but a month ago you woke up, and as soon as you saw just… five people in the room, you started to freak out, we had to make everyone go out of the room for you to calm down. Like even just now, when I called your name, you started to freak out too." the doctor explained sadly.
America frowned. "Can I get better? I can get better right? If I'm still me, then I can."
The doctor flinched. "It depends… we think you'll only be able to get used to a maximum of 15 faces, before feeling like everything is collapsing on you, and…"
"I know that feeling… I understand… so I'll just have to… stay here?" America asked, overwhelming confusing emotions started to fill him.
"Yes, we are so sorry…"