[ON HIATUS] The Orphanage of the Unfortunate and Unwanted (Countryhumans AU)

Chapter I - A Wish

WAIT!!!! 🥺

Before you read this, if you have not read the blurb's 'Author's Notes', please read them now. They may give you a bit of context on the AU (Actually, not sure on that) and my spelling. Thank you!!! :D

America's POV:

"You can't be telling me that you just punched someone at school again!"

My father was scolding me, for the six millionth time of my life.

I rolled my eyes and replied, "Yeah, I know. It's so exciting..."

Out of the blue, a dark blue, sweaty hand slapped me hard on the arm. I didn't flinch, but it absolutely stung really bad.
Sheesh, I thought, I never realised Mr. Grumpy UK was perspiring... so much!

I rubbed my arm, feeling ever so guilty for it and faced my father.

Now this time, I was not going to be sarcastic.

"You have only been in school for a week, and you are already going around swinging your arms nonstop!" he continued, pacing around the kitchen.

Like you, I retorted in my mind.

"Keep your hands to yourself, and please do not do that again, alright mister?" he said.

I blinked at him for a few moments before I finally gave a small nod.

My father's sullen face relaxed a little and he walked away.

So naive for a century-old man or whatever, eh?

Once he was out of sight, I thought that now was the time to start off my plan. My escape plan.

Since I was two, I had no siblings. No, my older brother didn't die, my extremely short, boring life story isn't that heartbreaking. If it was, I probably would've gone to his grave every Sunday instead of extra homework and church forever.

Now, not to offend, but church was soooooooo boooooring. Don't get me wrong, my English isn't too bad. It was good enough to get me into prep, aka foundation, on the year I was turning five, not six. But half the time, I didn't understand, and 99% of the time it made me drool and nearly fall asleep. (USA: Sorry, people who believe in Christianity and that) Jesus was born in Bethlehem and then made my mind so muddled up that I didn't understand the meaning of life anymore. TWO MILLENNIUMS LATER AFTER HE STARTED EXISTING.

Anyway, long story short, the church hates me even though I pledge sorry to them. The preacher there despises me.
Canada, my older brother, was older and I barely remembered what he looked like. I only remembered that he had chestnut brown eyes and was obsessed with pancakes drizzled with maple syrup and butter.
For one thing, I was literally banned from eating pancakes drizzled with maple syrup and butter because I had 'too many fatty tissues from eating them'. I would eat one pancake and gain weight, whilst Canada eats ten and stays the same. That always confused me.

My plan, snap back into it, America. I thought.

When my father was home, he would usually be busy in his office doing his paper work, country stuff, blah blah blah... and that meant that his bedroom was empty.

Time for Operation Un-Adoption

...A Year Later...

Aaaand it worked... Sort of.

After being an idiot, a robber, a liar, an ungrateful child and a 'child that is so obnoxious that you could suite for the dumbest animal in the world challenge", my father decided to dump me.

"You bloody little rat, I do not know who will ever want to take care of you, but I am sending you to the nearest adoption centre I can find, and will be grateful to never see you again," Mr. UK said, pulling on his oversized trench coat.

I sighed. Well, this is what I asked for, I suppose.
Initially, I thought that this would be a moment of joy, where I could for once be free from my treacherous father. But, for some reason...
I felt sad?

I pulled myself together and faced my destiny. After all, it is what it is.

The closest 'adoption centre' was a mere seven minute drive from our, or now his, home. The drive was eerily silent, and every now and then I felt spiders crawling up my spine.
When we arrived there, I was met by a pure white building, seemingly welcoming but sinister at the same time.

We parked, and I opened the car door to exit. But, just as I was about to take a step down, my father grabbed my shoulders and thrust me onto the pavement. I hit my forehead, but not too severely, and looked up from my position. Without saying goodbye, my father pressed the accelerator and veered away from the white building, barely missing my foot.

After a few minutes of pain, grief and mild joy, I begrudgingly heaved myself up and limped to the door of my new home.

I hesitated before knocking on the door three times.

This is a short one, 790 haha...

Finally writing again after a year or so, yippee!!

Author S.s.