|| ᴄʜ ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜ✪ᴛ ||

ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ (America)

ʸᵃⁿᵈᵉʳᵉ! ᴬᵐᵉʳⁱᶜᵃ ˣ ᵍᵉⁿᵈᵉʳ ⁿᵉᵘᵗʳᵃˡ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

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Warning: mid- make out, drinking, choking, obsessive behaviour,

"America? You wanted to see me?" I called out, stepping into the empty office, my voice echoing in the silence. I frowned, confused by the absence. Still, I let myself in, shutting the door behind me before sinking into the leather couch. It was stiff and cold, just like the man himself.

Pulling out my phone, I checked for any new messages from him. Nothing. The last thing he sent was a simple instruction: Come to my office.

"What a pain..." I muttered under my breath, rolling my head back, crossing my arms, trying to get comfortable. The ceiling above was a dull expanse, as empty as the room. But beneath the surface calm, the weight of the dagger in my pocket was a constant reminder. A reminder of why I was here in the first place.

I could feel its cold edge even through the fabric, a silent promise of what was to come. The priestess had been very clear. Her voice still echoed in my mind-cold, demanding. Her words were sharp enough to cut through even the thickest of my defenses. She wanted something special this time, something more than just innocence or purity. She wanted something powerful, something ancient. She wanted him.

"Why did it have to be him?" I thought bitterly. "Why not someone easier, someone kinder?" It would have been so much simpler to find someone with a pure heart, but America wasn't just anyone. He was a country- clearly- and dangerous in ways I was only beginning to understand. It had taken me weeks, months maybe, just to get this far, to be in his office alone without his guards breathing down my neck.

I rubbed my face in frustration, trying to dispel the tension that was building in my chest. As I waited, my eyes wandered, eventually landing on a collection of medals hanging on the wall, their polished surfaces catching the light from the massive window.

"Won't you spend time with your siblings, (Name)?"

The memory hit me like a punch to the gut, sharp and unexpected. I clutched my head as the room spun around me. War. Blood. Screams. All the things I had tried so hard to forget came rushing back, overwhelming my senses. It was why I didn't like dealing with him. He reminded me of something I had buried deep inside-something that, despite all my efforts, refused to stay buried.

After so many years of living, I had lost so many memories. The priestess warned me about the curse of immortality, but I had laughed it off. At the time, I thought it would be worth it, to live forever, to have the power she promised me. But now... now, it felt like a curse. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw a face that was older, more tired. And it hurt. It hurt so much more than I had ever imagined.

"Hahaha! You look just like Father!"

"Fuck..." I muttered, standing up, my legs shaky beneath me. I stumbled toward the table, where a whiskey bottle and a few cups waited. I didn't bother with the cup; I just popped the bottle open and took a long, burning swig. The alcohol hit my throat like fire, but it was a welcome distraction. Anything to numb the pain, to silence the thoughts that wouldn't stop.

But it was never enough. Drinking wasn't enough. Cutting wasn't enough. Killing wasn't enough. Nothing was enough to fill the void that had grown inside me, a void that seemed to swallow everything I sacrificed into it. I had given everything-my life, my soul, countless other lives-all for a goal that felt increasingly hollow.