Operation Red Herring (Countryhumans Alternate History)

Chapter 10

TW: Described PTSD attack, implied child abuse

It had been a few days since her official statement, and America was still settling in at the base. Things had gone relatively smoothly so far, if you excluded the whole press-being-morons-with-no-sense-of-boundaries incident. She glared half-hearted out of the window of her room. She was all for freedom of the press, but it did get on her nerves how they always seemed to find some way to bring up her personal life (specifically in regards to her situation as a rebelling colony), which she did not feel the need to broadcast her feelings on. Granted it wasn't as if she actively hid that aspect of herself. That would've been near impossible, given the fact that a good portion of the older countries had at least some knowledge as to her situation growing up. But, she also didn't feel the need to bring it up, and rarely spoke about it unless someone else asked. And even then, she tended to give very short, vague answers. It wasn't as if she were ashamed or anything, she simply didn't like talking about it, and didn't see a reason to force herself to.

Anyways, the press had brought it up, and she had been caught off guard, because why the hell would they bring that sort of thing up when she was literally announcing her entry into the war. She had blinked, trying to come up with some sort of response. Was it part of her reasoning? She didn't do this with that in mind... But was it some sort of subconscious thing? Had this been brewing for a while, and Britain's actions had simply been the final straw? America didn't think so... she had lost most of her resentment towards her father regarding his... personal actions against her, long ago, as she eventually realized that he was simply uneducated in that regard. Back then, there was not much information on how far was too far when disciplining a kid. People usually just went off of what their parents did with them. And her father... didn't have the best frame of reference.

But then again, he promised he wouldn't do this anymore. That he had worked to change and was better. At this thought, she could feel the resentment she usually tried to bury worm its way into her brain, her grip tightening on the pen she held in her hands.

He had been better. Or at least, that's what she had thought....

She had no clue what had happened. One minute she was waiting for the first firework, and the next she was on the ground, bullets whizzing by while someone shouted in German in the distance. All she could tell was that she couldn't breathe, the sick smell of burning garlic seeming to make her lungs expel any air she managed to get in. She was panicked, nausea overcoming her as she desperately tried to get in any oxygen. She had vaguely registered a voice yelling over the onslaught of noise that seemed to batter her eardrums until she swore her brain was vibrating in sync with the bangs. The next thing she knew she was under her desk, sobbing while an equally distraught Britain was attempting to calm her down.

"United? United, it's okay." He tried, and she wanted to believe him, but she still saw the smoke and the bombs and oh God she couldn't breathe again- "Breathe, Goddamnit!"

"D-dad, I can't-" Dad? When was the last time she had called him that? "I can't! I can't-" She had gasped out, a choked cough hacking through her panicked sobs.

"I know. I-" He cursed, trying to think of something to say. "I know it's scary, but you can."

"I can't- breathe-I-I'm gonna- get- can't-!"

"America." His use of her preferred name had surprised her, at least enough to pause her panicked sputtering. "I won't let anything hurt you, okay? Just grab my hand and try to breathe with me."

'I won't let anything hurt you.'

America recognized the phrase, and one part of her wanted to scream about how wrong he had been, because she had been hurt so much and even he couldn't stop grenades or bullets. The other part of her, the part that was thinking a little more clearly, grasped his outstretched hand, gripping it so tightly she swore she heard him grunt in pain.