Super important author note at the end!
Chapter Status: Not Edited
Iceland's POV
My eyes open drowsily. I had the strangest dream. I dreamt that Oslo was being attacked. I couldn't save her, though. I was strapped to a chair, and I couldn't save her. Some person was torturing her. I couldn't make out any of their facial features, however. They were taunting her, telling her about how they murdered her brother. I couldn't bare seeing Oslo that way. I was screaming for the figure to stop, but they still persisted in the emotional torture.
Whatever, it was just a dream. The slight rocking motion relaxes me, and I almost fall back asleep. Wait... Rocking motion? Where am I?
That answers my question. I'm in a car. Not just any car, but a cab. Another detail, I'm sitting on the floor, leaning against the door. Finland sits opposite of me, quietly conversing with Sweden. Denmark and Norway sit on the other two seats, Denmark asleep on Norway's shoulder. His eye is twitching.
"Norway, where are we going?" I ask, still bewildered.
He looks down at me, annoyance obvious in his glare. He sighs, and pushes Denmark off his shoulder, just in time so as not to be drooled on.
"We're in New York. We're going to stay with..." He grimaces.
I wait for a moment before prompting him.
"Who?"
"America," he groans, sending Denmark a death glare.
I mull this over, and suddenly, things start to come back to me. We were in a hotel last night, discussing what we were going to do. We decided to go to Americas place, so that way we could obtain more information while maintaining our safety.
A startling thought occurs to me.
"WHAT ABOUT OSLO!? AND GREENLAND AND MRS. LONDON, AND HOW COULD WE FORGET POLAND YOU MINDLESS BAS-" I almost choke him, but he cuts me off.
"They're already there."
"Oh."
"But I thought you suddenly got bored with Oslo. You decided you weren't going to date my capital anymore. What's with that?" He sends an aggravated glare my way.
"No. It's not that I don't like her, she's great. It's just... I can't be with somebody who doesn't even like herself," I explain.
He nods, still annoyed.
I adjust my position to see outside. Tall buildings loom over us, baring signs advertising Apple and McDonalds. I can't help but find the latter disgusting. (A/N that's right, I said it.) The cab driver continuously speeds through the crowded streets, avoiding all of the other cars.
I look out my window to see all of the pedestrians on the sidewalk. A few stand around a man playing his guitar and singing. He wears a light blue tank top and raybans. His long brown hair continuously falls out of its side swept position across his forehead. A girl with vibrant green and pink hair, shaved off on one side of her head, walks up to him and engages in conversation. (A/N That's going to be another fanfic, pierce the veil fans! ;) )
I almost lose myself in people watching, but then Denmark squeals with excitement.
"OMYGAWD I can't wait to see America!!! I haven't seen 'im in a week!!"
Wow, was that only a week ago? It feels like ages. A week, a lot can change in a week. I just need to see all of the others again, that will put my anxiety at ease.
* * *
When we finally arrive at Americas house, I'm appalled by the size. I thought we were in New York! Not... Some place that has room for a mansion. Anyway, Denmark giddily jams at the doorbell with his index finger, excitement bubbling over. After a minute, America himself greets us at the doorstep.
"OMGEEEEE DENMARKDUDEYOUREHEREIMSOEXCITEDLIKEOMGDUDESERIOUSLY!!!!" He gushes.
They throw themselves at each other in a brief embrace, patting the others back. He ushers us all in, telling us that we could stay in any unoccupied room upstairs.
"Unless," he wiggles his eyebrows at Denmark, most likely suggesting they bed with each other. Ugh.
"Meh, is Greenland here yet?" He asks, absent mindedly.
I remove myself from the conversation and make my way up the stairs. Geez, there are so many rooms to choose from...
SMACK!
A door hits me square in the face, hard. Oslo comes out from behind the door, a panicked look in her eyes.
"Where are they?!" She whispers, a hint of craziness in her voice.
She pushes me out of the way, as if nothing means anything to her, except for whatever she's looking for. I stop her by pulling on her arm. Bad choice. She whips around and slaps me as hard as she can, and for someone that frail and small, she can slap pretty hard.
"Oh, sorry," she apologizes, attempting to cover panic in her tone.
"What are you looking for?"
"Oh- um... Nothing. Nothing important." She smiles quickly before moving on.
That... Was weird. She sounded almost insane! What could she be searching for that's that important? I dismiss the thought, as she probably set her iPod somewhere and misplaced it.
Poland shoots daggers at me with his eyes as he walks by. If looks could kill, he would've killed me when I had first broken up with Oslo.
Anyway, I finally make my way to an empty room. The room is large and feels open. The walls are a light blue-gray color, and the bedspread is just white. A large window stands on the wall furthest from the door. The curtains are a sheer white, light fabric. The slightest wind sends the fluttering in slightly. Sunlight and bright, fresh air floods in through the open window. I toss myself onto the bed.
Wow, I have no clue how long I'm gonna be here, and I didn't bring anything! No clothes, no guitar, hell, I don't have so much as a toothbrush with me! All I have with me is my phone, which is always on me, anyway. If I'm here for more than three days, I'm finding a target store or something.
Oslo's POV
I search frantically for my medication. I had it with me before we came here, where is it now?
Oh god did I- I think I did. I couldn't have! Yep, I left them in the taxi.
I retire to the bedroom which I'm using, as hope is lost. I don't even have a safety pin to relieve my pain that I go through emotionally. Why a safety pin? Well, let's just say that I sometimes 'draw' on my arms and legs. Especially my legs. I punish my thighs for being so gigantic.
I flop onto the large four poster bed. Staring at the ceiling, I think about how much I long to be at home. I miss the familiar smell, the posters on my walls, my closet, my desk. I miss it all so much. It feels like it's been ages since I've been home. It was a small place, but a home it was. Not just any home, my home. I can't believe it's only been a couple of days...
At least my mother is here with me. Things could be worse, I could be stuck with just Iceland, who seems not to like me at all. He could at least be a little bit nice.
I lay here for the entire day. America tries to make me go eat, but I'm on a strict diet. Two hundred calories per day, otherwise I'll keep getting fatter. If I go over five hundred, I have to purge. I hate purging, but I have to if I want to be thin.
Thin=pretty, pretty=good, good=wanted.
That's what I say every time I think about giving up my diets.
The sun sets, and outside is dark. I lay awake for hours, wallowing in my sorrow. I dig a metaphorical hole in my mind, and lay there, thinking about everything I need to do if I want to be wanted. Iceland probably doesn't like me because I'm not pretty. I'm not good enough. I'm not thin enough for him.
I'm jealous of Belarus' figure. She's so pretty, I wish I could look like her. I wish I could look like those models you see in Forever 21 stores. They're perfect. My weight is the reason I'm so easily rejected. Nobody likes the fat girl.
"Oslo? Why don't you come eat with us? You know what the doctor says," my mother pokes her head through the door.
"No mom, I'm fine, I already ate."
"Are you sure? Eating is a big step in your recovery," she reminds me.
Recovery? I'm not even thin, why would I need to recover from something that isn't there?
I reassure her that I'm fine, because I am. I'll be even better when I'm thin. I'll be at my best when my thighs don't touch.
I don't have low self esteem, I simply know the truth, and am not afraid to admit to it. I am fat. I am one of the fattest people I have ever seen.
Where are my depression meds?
Poland's POV
I found Oslo's safety pin in her room and took it. She won't be able to cut herself without it. I'm such a genius. No if only she would eat with us. Sure, the food isn't exactly healthy, but it sure is good!
When Oslo eats, she only eats organics. I tried getting her to eat something that wasn't once, she ended up locking herself in my closet.
I can't even remember when I was in the closet. (A/N sorry, I had to.)
She just thinks she's so ginormous, when in reality, her thigh gap is inhumanly wide. I can't see why she thinks she's so big.
I remember when I first met her. She was sitting on the stairs during our lunch period, sobbing. She was new and it was her first day. I sat next to her and comforted her. She told me that her brother moved away to work with a man called Russia.
Wow, she has been going through a lot in this past month. First she had to move away, then her brother was murdered, and now some lunatic is pursuing us. Also, on top of all of that she was dumped for not liking herself. I call bull.
Iceland doesn't even deserve my best friend. Okay, maybe I do think he's really attractive, but if he can't be with someone for that stupid of a reason then he isn't worth it. I hate that guy.
Why did Lithuania, my boyfriend, have to fall into the hands of Belarus? Belarus! Of all people, he had to have fallen into the hands of the chic that is causing Oslo pain. I miss Lithy, I want him back. I swear, in the coming school year, I will black mail the living ish out of Belarus!
Creak...
The door slowly creaks on its hinges. The frail little girl stands there, almost shyly, which I know she isn't. Her eyes dart around the room, as if expecting something to happen.
"Come on in, bestie bitch," I greet her, a smile playing on my lips.
I turn to face the window seat where she sits. I lay on my stomach, chin resting on my hands, feet in the air. Oslo sits criss-cross, her hands gripping her bony feet.
"So, do you think I should like, tell America you only eat organics?" I joke.
"Yea," she laughs, a smile spreading across her face.
That's pretty much how things work. I make a joke, she jokes back.
A heavy, awkward silence falls over us. Oslo's expression turns overcast, like the dark, rainy sky from just the night before.
"Did you take my safety pin?" She inquires, looking straight into my eyes.
"Yes," I inform
She lunges at me and tackles me, trying to find the small piece of tin. She pulls my hair and slaps me, yelling at me to give it back. Finally, I give in and produce the sharp object from my pocket.
"You win," I groan.
(A/N) OKAYYYYY first of all, HAPPY EARLY BIRFDAY HIDEKAZ HIMARUYA!!!!!!!! Second of all, I decided to start a weekly contest sort of thing. It's based off of this thing we do in my language arts class, and readers from my school will know what I'm talking about. It's called 55 fiction. Basically, you just write a little super short story with ONLY FIFTY FIVE WORDS with a plot twist at the end. I want my followers to write some and email them to me, and I will choose one every so often to publish. If I publish yours, I will give you a shoutout and spam your page with votes and things. If you're interested, email it to me. My email is: kayliesierra@gmail.com Any questions?
Poland: can I write like, more than one?
Me: OF COURSE! The more the merrier!
Oslo: are there limitations besides the fifty five words?
Me: Nope!
2p!Britain: Can it be dark and surreal? *cheshire cat grin*
Me: DEFINITELY! I love things like that!
Greenland: what if it isn't dark?
Me: That's awesome to! We need variety!
Is that all? Yup. Anywhore, send me yours!
LOVES!!
-Miss Catastrophe