~Memories~ Hetalia One-Shots

<Faith> England

Blind!Depressed!ReaderXPopular!England

I was listening to some really sad piano music and I suddenly wanted to write something like this. Sorry if it's not very good and extremely out-of-place. I would have made it in my one-shot book but I feel like it would be better to just place it here and turn SMOHH and the one-shot book into this one. So, I will now be writing one-shots in this book. You can request any country, any type of reader, heck, I'll even allow scenarios if I can. Thanks for reading.

P.S This "one-shot" contains things on the line of self-harm, suicide and bullying. If you feel uncomfortable with any of these subjects, I recommend not reading this. However, that is your choice. 

___ ___, the girl born blind as the cord around her neck cut off the ability of sight to herself. Ever since she was little, she always dreamt of being an author or a translator! Everyone always told her she couldn't. That she had no hope as she couldn't see and wouldn't have any experiences to write about. As she grew older, she gradually began to believe what they said. After all, how does one even begin to write about the sky if they don't even know how it looks like? She'd always hear people describing things to her and her imagination always went wild. Even more when she grew, as her child-like senses started to die away into a black abyss, she began to feel shallow and differenced from all the others.

As she reached high school, everything just kept getting worse and worse. People started tormenting her. Saying she should just die, give up on her dreams and usually stole her cane to leave her stranded until a teacher came to assist her. That sometimes didn't even happen for hours at times. What had she done to deserve this torment? She was just a girl who didn't even know what the sky looked like. No. She didn't know what anything looked like. Everything just looked like a void and she just had to deal without having something everyone just took for granted.

...........

"God, what a freak!" "Just drink bleach already! It'd make the world a better place without you, spastic!" "We'll be taking this..." You yelped in pain as one of your bullied punched you directly in the stomach, causing you to fly backwards into a wall of lockers and get your skull. "N-no... Please! Anything but that!" you screamed as they stole your wooden cane out of your weak grasp. Even though you were in the centre of the corridor with probably a whole bunch of students all buzzing past to get to their classes, it seemed nobody gave a second eye. That's what you believed, anyways... You sunk to the floor and curled into a small ball to hide the tears and blood starting to weep through your uniform. "Why... Why must I have been chosen this fate?!" you sniffed under your cries.

Time went past like a century. Every second felt like a year and nobody ever gave a thought as to help you. You just wanted to die. To end all your suffering and hardships. "Hello? What are you doing here?" You peered up from your ball to see, well, nothing. "Are you alright, Love?" You knew from his voice that this was Arthur Kirkland... Probably the second most popular boy in school with a near close first with his brother, Alfred Jones! "Y-yeah... I'm fine..." The classic "I'm fine" line even when you're clearly not fine. "You certainly don't look it." He paused. "Here, take my hand." He offered out his hand to you but you couldn't figure out where it was. In the end, he graciously look a hold of your hand and carefully grabbed you to your feet. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were..." You waved your hands up as a way to say that it's fine. You had only just realised it but the blood that had started tearing its way into your top was now completely soaked.

"Blood hell! What happened?!" You refused to answer, you simply didn't want anyone else hating you at this point. To your immediate surprise, he pulled you into a weak embrace which made your heart pound like a dumbbell. "A-Arthur..." you muttered under your breath. His touch soothed your stresses away and you placed your head on his shoulder and began to cry sweet tears once again. "It's okay now, Love. There, there..." He rubbed your back until you had finally finished emptying your tear duct for the final time. After that, he let you go and retook your hand in his. "We should probably get you cleaned up. I'll let you stay at mine tonight." All you could do was nod as he dragged you out of your prison until you reached his house. Not once did he let go of your hand and he always made sure you were close enough to him to make sure you didn't get hurt or lost.