The Fake Smile He Wears

Chapter 1

He hadn't smiled a real smile after he was found by England and France. He just didn't feel the same anymore, he hated to admit it, but he missed his mother, he would sacrifice almost anything to have her back, but he can't do anything about it anyways. England and France tried to pretend that what they did, never happened in the first place, what they had done could not be forgotten. Even, though he got hurt by all the things he heard the countries say, he still thinks it's because all those words are true. He just knew they were, after all why tell lies? They were just telling the brutal truth he needed to know. He was always loud and constantly bugging people to hang out with him, because he hated being alone, he was scared that everyone was going to leave him. He's scared he's going to be left behind. He's scared he's not good enough. Because he feels like he doesn't deserve them. He's one of the most misunderstood country. He's the person no one expects to be depressed, and he's the person who seems the happiest out of them all. But that's all just a big lie he constructed. A lie, he has built over centuries, a lie he himself began to believe. No one asks if he's okay, they just assume he is. His thoughts were interrupted by the noise of yelling and knocking at his front door. He groggily got up and went up to the door and opened it.

"Yo, Iggy, good morning, what're you doing here?" America asked, while yawning, still in his patriotic pajamas. His fake, bright, Hollywood smile present as always.

"Bloody git, what are you doing in your pajamas, the meeting has already started. The bloody meeting is in your country. And you're not even there." England barked at him. He practically spat at America's face. He began shaking his head, as if shaming him. He really shouldn't expect too much out of him, he'll only fall short.

America winced at the words, but England didn't seem to notice; he sighed a sigh relief. He cares too much about the people who hurt him, he cares more about their wellbeing then his own. No matter what he did, it was never enough, wasn't it? He would never be what Arthur wants. His heart ached inside, thinking about this thoughts, and the words he said, killed him inside so much. If only he knew how much those words affected him, if only they all knew, how much pain they caused him.

"Sorry dude, forgot to set the alarm last night." America lied. In reality, he really didn't want to got to the meeting. Out of all the days he could go, he didn't want to go today especially today. Today was a special day. No one, but him and people who were close to him knew about today. None of the other nations knew. They weren't close enough. They didn't care about him. They never did. They never looked to see if he was okay. They wouldn't understand anyway. They never did anyway. They wouldn't care anyways. He began to slowly walked back in and started walking up the stairs. He was lucky enough that they weren't here. They were off on their yearly camping trip, if they were here, oh god, would he be screwed. He slowly walked up the stairs grabbed his clothes and went in the bathroom. There was his precious razor. It was the only thing that could help him with all the stress and emptiness he felt. One of the only things that could help him keep his sanity and humanity in this cruel world. He stared at it for a minute picking it up and cutting the words he heard everyday. The words he knew were true, deep inside. The words he heard form the demons inside his own head.
Fat
Stupid
Selfish
Dumbass
Idiot
Narcissistic
Lazy
Trash
Pig
No one loves you
Die
He carved a couple of them on his arms, however he always made sure they were small, he didn't want them to know he was cutting, he didn't want them to feel guilty for something they didn't do. It was just his stupid depressed selfish self, that was the only reason for this, and he wanted to stop, but he didn't know how. But, he deserved this. This was his punishment, yet his savior. Contradicting, isn't it? His arms were filled with scars, new and old. He lost track of how long he's been cutting. There was just so many small words on his arms, but every single one was true. Right? Right? There was one thing he wanted to do. The thing he wanted most was to just disappear. To just die peacefully. To be with his mom. He was a country though. He can't unless the United States ceases to exist. That wasn't going to happen anytime sooner. He's going to be living, regardless if he wants to. He had people to care for, he couldn't just leave them. Either way he couldn't die, he had responsibilities. No matter how much he tried and how much he wanted to. He quickly bandaged his arms, put the razor in his pocket, and put on his jacket on the way out.