A small warning before we start this chapter:
This chapter will contain very heavy topics about self-harm. If you are sensitive to this type of content, please skip this chapter.
Thank you, and have a nice day!
-Selva
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America finally saw his home. After what felt like forever, America was finally home. America didn't realize how much he missed DC until, well, now.
America got out of the car he was in, thanked the driver, paid him, and stumbled into his home. America dramatically fell onto his couch with a groan. Oh, he had missed his home. His couch, his TV that he never used, everything! America felt as though he had gone off to war and was finally seeing his home again after a long, grueling battle. In a way, that was true.
Even though CPR hadn't spoken in a while, America could tell that the disembodied voice had left a mark on him, whether he liked it or not.
America didn't want to think about it- the very thought sent an eerie shiver up his spine. That was to be expected, though. America didn't like the fact that he had changed after being the same for so long. He did try to use his personality as a way of forgetting-
No! Don't think about it, don't think about it!
Diverting his mind from these thoughts that were very quickly going in a bad direction, America looked through his phone to see if he had missed anything while on the airplane. America saw a few texts from his family and, with a small smile, answered all of them.
Just as joy was starting to creep up on America, America shot upwards in his seat. His whole body tensed up. He didn't know what was going on, but America felt as though something awful was going to happen. More than a little freaked out and scared, America stood up, accidentally knocking a glass vase off of a nearby end table. America cursed to himself and, trying to calm himself down, backed into a corner of the living room and sat down there.
What was going on?
"You know exactly what's going on, America."
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- not him, not him. America screwed his eyes shut and hoped with all his heart he was just hallucinating from lack of sleep.
"I'm no hallucination, idiot. Who knew that the strongest country in the world would be terrified of a voice inside of his head?" CPR commented mockingly with a laugh.
"You're more than just a voice." America quickly responded, making sure he didn't stutter.
"Hm, maybe," CPR agreed. "But I wish I was more than whatever I am right now. And, you're going to do as I say so that I can become more than this."
"No," America said monotonously.
America could almost sense CPR's confusion. Then, America heard laughter. CPR was laughing... at America. "Pfft, you-" Another laugh. "you think you deserve a choice in this?"
America could feel his throat closing up. America wanted to speak- something deep inside of him wanted to yell and scream at CPR- but it felt like hands were closing around America's throat, preventing him from speaking.
"You don't deserve a choice. How many times have you been trusted with something and you failed? How many times have you killed with your own hands? Tell me, America, do you seriously think that you deserve a choice? Hahaha! That's hilarious! I see you've learned nothing, America. You are useless: you can't even save your children from getting hurt. You are selfish: you stole your states' chances to be in and live in the real world, where they are free to do whatever they want and free to be themselves. You are weak: you tremble in front of me, a mere being inside your mind, and you rely on the states- your kids!- for your own personal survival because without them around to support you, you die! You are a monster: without the slightest bit of hesitation, you killed Japan's dad, your own son, and so, so many people who were completely innocent and had done no wrong!" CPR paused to let what he said sink in before stating, "Correct me if I'm wrong, America."
America didn't have anything to correct, feeling the awfully familiar feeling of guilt enclose him in it's cold, unwelcome grasp. Everything CPR said was right- no matter how many times America went through what CPR said in his head, it all was eerily right and correct, down to the tiniest detail. This was, after all, supposedly a being inside of his head, like the states.
America suddenly didn't like that comparison. This person- voice- thing is nothing like any of America's children. Even so, CPR seemed right in every way. A piece deep inside of America rebelled against this, but it was quickly shut down. As for what shut it down, America didn't know and he wasn't sure he cared anymore.
America opened his mouth to half-heartedly retort something back at CPR, but couldn't do it. It was as if he didn't have the strength to rebel anymore, as if his rebellious spirit had been forcibly sucked out of him and discarded on an empty, abandoned street like plastic litter.
CPR spoke again, breaking the silence, "I'm so glad you understand how much of a horrible being you are. Now, since we've agreed on fact, I believe we should do something about the knowledge we now have."
America dully nodded, not entirely paying attention anymore, his mind wandering off to place far from whatever hellhole America was in. When America came home, he expected it to be happier. This wasn't happy on any level. It was a sinking defeat, even America could admit that.
America felt something- or someone- move his head so he was looking at the broken glass vase. "Now, America, why don't you show everyone how weak and worthless you really are?"
Confusion filled America's mind. What? What did CPR want now? What was CPR trying to hint at?
"Ugh," CPR groaned with frustration. After a few seconds, CPR spoke as if what he was saying was the easiest and most natural thing to say in the whole world, "Cut yourself."
With those two words, America felt the world around him freeze. Cut... himself...? The idea had crossed America's mind before, but he didn't really take that awful choice to heart, at least... not completely. Now, he was practically being ordered to do it. Again, for the second time. This time was different, though. It felt more forced and desperate like CPR just needed it to happen and happen quickly so that he could achieve... something. Probably something big, judging by how rushed this all felt.
Even so, the idea made America feel sick to his stomach and, as warped as it probably was, eerily fascinated at the same time. Would the pain blot out CPR's voice? Would he be free from his overwhelming feelings, even if it's just for a second? America could feel the intense pounding of his heart in his chest as he slowly reached towards one of the glass shards. America picked up a shard of glass, already cutting his hand a little on the jagged broken edges. He looked at the glass with a neutral face, but America felt a twisted feeling of fascination looking at it and all the destruction but possible relief it could bring. He continued thinking about it until, without willing his hand to do so, his shaking hand moved the glass closer and closer to the pale white skin of his left arm.
The glass shard was so close to his skin that America could imagine the pain the glass shard would make. America was about to do it when a horrible headache racked his brain. Suddenly, with the wave of intense pain caused by the headache, a wave of happy memories flooded America's mind. America could feel tears form and fall down his cheeks as he watched each memory one by one. Even with all these happy memories, however, he still felt so detached from each and every one of them, as if the person whose eyes he was seeing through wasn't him anymore. That composed and admittedly cocky person isn't the same guy as the pathetic loser about to cut himself.
That's when America remembered what Texas had said a few days earlier on Monday. Texas had looked at America in his dream and told him to resist all of these awful thoughts or... or...
The plea echoed in America's brain and with it came so many fond memories of his children, the states and territories. Tears continued to fall down America's cheeks as he seriously considered doing it. It felt as though this could be America's breaking point. Even so, America had resisted this once... but does that mean he can resist it again?
Does he even want to resist it again?
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! JUST DO IT ALREADY!" America heard CPR scream. The scream felt so very distant now, as if it was just one tiny speck amongst many.
One tiny speck...
One tiny...
One...
...
...
With a small clink, the piece of glass fell on the floor.
It took all of America's willpower to do it, though America wasn't sure if it was just his willpower anymore. The states probably were with him, after all... Probably...
America hugged himself and looked down at the floor, trying to get himself to calm down and stop shaking. He sat there without moving for what felt like ages- though it was really just thirty seconds- until he had calmed down enough to look up. His attention was immediately drawn to the piece of glass.
America, whose face now held a look of unfathomable disgust, kicked the glass shard across the room, watching as it slammed into a chair and shattered into what was possibly millions of tiny pieces.
Gasping from what he just did, America said shakily, "I won't. I will never cut myself. Never. No. I can't, I promised to-"
"Did you just defy me?" CPR scowled, interrupting America, "... You don't seem to understand, do you, America?" In an instant, all feelings of victory America had started to feel vanished. America felt dread form deep inside his soul.
"Maybe I should teach you another lesson."
With no time spared, America felt his throat close up again, except this time it was at least ten times worse. It was so bad that America could barely breathe. America's hands went to his throat, trying to pull off a hand off of his throat that wasn't even there in the first place.
"You are worthless, America. You deserve everything awful that has ever happened to you. You are weak, disgusting, fat, and an unlovable bastard. If I could, I'd kill you right here and now. Unfortunately, I don't have the power to do that yet."
America harshly coughed as the pressure left his throat.
CPR growled threateningly, "Watch your back America. Check every crevice in every room because I promise you this: I will have my revenge and I will take back everything you ever took from me. Just for fun, I'll make you lose everything you've ever held dear, too."
America's breath caught in his throat. He's fine with being hurt himself, but his family and the people he cares about? America wouldn't be able to live with himself if they were hurt at his expense.
"This is our revenge, and I promise you that we will take back our futures and kill you."
That's when America heard an angry, spiteful, and familiar voice; but, it wasn't CPR's:
"...No matter the cost, 'Dad.'"