The Girl by the Sea (Countryhumans AU)

Capsized Ship

"Such an irresponsible girl, even when it comes to such a simple task as taking care of a pet.... No wonder he bit you..." I mutter to myself, my tone dripping with self-hatred and contempt for my own stupidity.

I grab my hair as I sit in bed. If I were to kill myself, would anything change? Well, of course South would be able to forget his past and North wouldn't have to worry about me every second of the day.

As the thoughts of suicide overtake my mind, I can't help but think about the potential effects it would have on the people around me. South would finally forget his past and be able to move on without me dragging him down. North wouldn't have to constantly think about my safety and health.

"And Australia... I can only imagine how relieved he'd be that he doesn't have to deal with me anymore. I bet he'd move on so fast I wouldn't even be able to process it..." I say softly, as that thought in particular fills me with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

But America? Oh-ho, this makes it so much easier. I lost my mabui with him. It's gone. The yuta was wrong. I'll never find it.

The thought that relief could overtake their grief fills me with so much guilt. I find myself picturing each of their faces upon learning the news of my death. Instead of shock or sadness over the news, I imagine relief and joy spread across their faces, as they finally realize how much easier their lives could be.

If father was alive, he'd be the happiest of them all. I can already hear him cheering in Japanese because his useless and burdensome daughter is finally out of the way—permanently.

"He always called me a waste of resources," I mumble softly to myself, remembering the words that he often used to berate me—especially during the war. "A worthless daughter." I shake my head slightly as I focus on inhaling and exhaling slowly, trying to keep myself together.

"He always used to say that I would never amount to anything," I continue to mumble softly to myself. "That I was a burden, that I was just going to hurt and disappoint the rest of the people around me. I... I think he was right..."

He was right.

He is right.

Everyone else has the knowledge, I have the willpower. No need for a suicide note. I pick myself up and trudge towards the kitchen. The house is dead silent. South is listening to music, Japan is working, and North is most likely outside to clear his head.

Carefully, I squat down and open the cabinet under the sink. The acrid stench of mildew and bleach suffuses my senses. I close my eyes, reach into the cabinet, and pull out a random supply.

Window cleaner. I purse my lips and take a shaky breath. I grab a tea bowl. For a moment, I stare into its porcelain. It seems too white, too pure. If objects could bear witness, I wouldn't place the burden of such an ugly event on this cup. I unscrew the lid and pour the electric blue liquid into the bowl.

I stare at the bowl, at the harsh liquid as it sits in the tea bowl, looking almost menacing. Its dark blue color is almost beautiful in its own way, but the idea of consuming it sends a shiver down my spine.

Slowly, I lift the bowl to my lips, inhaling the sterile, harsh scent. Taking a deep breath, I start to slide the liquid down my throat. At first, it tasted like water—nothing special—but as soon as I swallowed the full cup, the fresh and herby flavor of basil and the bitterness of soap clashed in my mouth. I nearly wretch and purge the liquid, but keep myself from doing so.

While I held myself back from throwing up, it felt like it was only a matter of seconds before the liquid was down my throat. As soon as it was, the bitterness of the soap and the fresh flavor of basil hit my throat at once, leaving my throat stinging and feeling raw.