Better Left Hidden

The Beginning

America took a deep breath, prepping himself for the meeting. For the insults, remarks, and names that would come crashing down like a land slide. For his self-esteem to crumble just a little more, like every day. Soon, there would be nothing but rubble. America brought himself out of his spiral.

"I am here!" He entered loudly, startling, but not surprising the other countries. America put on a very fake, boisterous smile with all of his teeth. Underneath, though, he mentally winced.

"America, you're late." UN turned his icy gaze toward the obnoxious country, trying to keep his cool. He clenched his hands before letting out a breath.

America noticed. He noticed everything. The way England's foot tapped on the floor when he was lying, or how China pursed his lips when displeased. Small things, like how France adored chocolate croissants.

"The main character is never late. Everyone else is simply early." America shot back. In reality, he just wanted to go cry in the corner. But countries don't show weakness. Ever.

He gritted his teeth as UN sized him up. With a hmph, he left to start the meeting. America slid into his seat, ignoring the glares, the whispered rumors, or the rolling eyes. He pretended not to notice.

America turned his head to meet those of China's, and he heard him whisper something into the ear of Mexico. Mexico smirked and burst out laughing.

"That's a good one! He really is so fat." It would sting more if America wasn't used to it. But it still hurt. It's more like a loose screw in a building. But when there are too many loose screws and it all comes tumbling down...

America turned his head away, staring at his papers. His cursive was neat and elegant, with color coded sections and side notes. His plan was flawless and new. But he also had his fake presentation prepped. The one about robots saving the world.

The one he would present. To preserve his mask.

He slowly got up, working his way to the podium. America flet the eyes of the countries on his back as he went, the pure hatred. Guilt seized him, making his stomach turn to mush. But he continued.

America cleared his throat in the microphone. Waiting.

Then they came, crashing down like waves in a storm.

Fat.

Ugly.

Obnoxious.

Dumb.

Annoying.

Idiot.

Worthless.

That one hurt the most because it came from his own brother, Canada. It felt like someone had dug salt into his wounds. But he continues to smile. After all, what was an America without a smile?

He closed his eyes, preparing for another crashing wave, but nothing.

A blinding light filled his eyes, and he heard the scream soft the nation's. America took little pleasure in their shrieks, though, as his eyes  adjusted to the new room.

It was large, with seating and several doors. A large ancient book stood on a pedestal in the center of the room. It's pages were brittle, and the cover was leather.

America looked around to find several other countries, all looking around as well. Their eyes scanned the room, noticing what he already had.

America stood up, and others followed suit.

"What happened?" Italy piped up, voicing all of our thoughts.

"Well, I transported you here." A new voice sprang from the ceiling, and a beautiful woman with black ebony hair and green skin looked over the nation's with disgust until she landed on America.