Crazy mess

A new encounter

Hey guys. I'm back again. Great. So um, this might be the last post I'm going to be uploading for this week, I guess. I still need to update my other one, so.... yeah? If you're wondering where the ameripan is going to be, don't worry. Japan will be soon coming into the story in a bit, because I ain't sure what scenario should she be included and what-not, etc.  I also wanted to give thanks to everyone reading this book again. I really do appreciate it, but I guess you have had heard enough of it 😅 um, that's all I really have to say. Anyways, peace out 👌🏼

!Lara Croft 

P.s, again, I really be using google translate, so if I get anything wrong, then sorry :,)

P.p.s, this is how I imagined the stuffed teddy bear to look like in my mind.

Or something similar to that design :) anyways, enough about the note before hand, and more about the book :)

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America got dressed as usual for school. He started to wear more long sleeved shirts or sweaters to cover up all of the scars that littered both of his arms like fireworks during the Fourth of July. He never got to experience the feeling of being with family and watching the fireworks fly up in the sky like dragonflies in a field of grass, but he didn't mind. He liked staying home anyways. He never got bothered. That's the way he liked it. 

He sighed again. He wasn't getting any better. He doesn't want to kill himself, no matter how hard or tough things get, but he's almost at his breaking point. Sure, cutting did relieve him from all the stress, but it didn't make his depression any better like wise. One day, cutting wouldn't be the only option to get away from this cruel world that would point snobby fingers at him, throw spit balls like they were a hockey pucks into the goals, and write short sentences on his back like a drawing clipboard. 

He needed to stop. He knew this wasn't good for his mental health, but when was he ever in a good state of mind? He grabbed his headphones, and laid them onto his neck, when he was going to pick his sunglasses of his desk, he dropped a small frame glass with a picture attached to it. 

It was his old family.

Memories suddenly flooded into America's mind. The times when Canada spilt icecream on him, and blamed the small pet bunny he used to have before it suddenly died of blood loss. He didn't know how it happened, but when he was conscious, he had blood on his tiny hands like strawberries that would be dipped in a special sauce at the restaurant he loved to go to. His father forgave him, but he probably knew what happened. 

That day, America didn't get any diner. He starved until midnight where he snuck into the kitchen to get a small rice cake that his friend from school saved for him. He was grateful. 

Sure, he didn't have the best life, but he loved it anyways. He remembered the time when he saw the belt, and his siblings cowering behind the sofa, and when he couldn't go to school the next day because of the deep cut he had on his back like someone just took a slice out of him.