Okay so, as you've probably already guessed from the title, this is going to be bad. Really, bad. I apologise now for my bad writing and anything else but... hey, why not have a Hetalia Book? Hetalia is life :D
Oops! Ang larawang ito ay hindi sumusunod sa aming mga alituntunin sa nilalaman. Upang magpatuloy sa pag-publish, subukan itong alisin o mag-upload ng bago.
You're pathetic. Stupid, worthless, pathetic. No one likes you.
Feliciano shook his head and carefully closed the door to his room. Once it was closed, he was alone... except... not really. No, the voice was still there, still talking, still telling him he was worthless.
"I don't believe you" he muttered for what had to have been the third time that day.
Fine by me. As long as you're happy with the lies you tell yourself... I'm telling you the truth so it doesn't hurt as much when you suddenly find out how stupid you are.
He moaned and slouched against the door. Why was it always there? Always taunting him. He padded into his en-suite and stared at himself in the mirror.
You're ugly
He was. That was one thing he could agree with it on. He had these... these... weird eyes that always looked like they were closed they were so narrow. When he was shocked or startled, they'd widen so people could see the mud coloured iris' inside. Not that they were really a nice colour to look at. It was worse than mud. When he was concentrating, his entire forehead would crease up like some old woman's. His hair was always messy, he had this... curl that just stuck out from his head. It never listened to him or went away and he hated it. His nose a weird shape and the corners of his mouth seemed to dip down all the time. His skin was so pale it looked like a sheet of paper. It made him stick out in Italy, almost like an albino really... just without the hair and the eyes.
A sudden urge to hit the mirror filled him and he weakly placed a palm against the cold glass.
What? You're so weak you can't even break the mirror? The thing that shows you how hideous you really are?
A cold shiver runs through me and Feliciano bit his lip hard to stop himself from crying. One of his teeth pierced his bottom lip and he mopped the blood up with one finger. It was red. A nice shade of red.
He opened the cupboard behind the mirror and stared at the contents. Drugs... more drugs... some plasters... some bandages... a razor... that'd do. Feliciano grabbed the razor and quickly ran it over one hand. The pretty red colour appeared again and he smiled. Maybe it was the only pretty thing about him. He did it again, and again, slashing and slashing at the stupid, stupid pale skin.
A salty blob hit against one of his cuts and he had to stop himself from crying out. It hurt. It hurt a lot. When he glanced back down at his wrist, it was a mess of red cuts, with one, long blue line laced down the centre. It looked horrible. Without thinking, he slashed it open, covering the line with red. That was better now. He wasn't so... so... pathetic anymore.
Keep telling yourself that
Feliciano started to feel faint. He glanced at his wrist and grinned. "It's all over, all of it. Over."
************
He woke up in a field. It was warm, very warm, the sun shining down on him, making him blink. He felt different, smaller somehow, but he didn't remember ever being any different. In fact, he didn't remember anything, apart from... Veneziano and Italy.
"About time bastardo" someone said. He whipped round to see a boy sitting a little bit away with darker hair than his and a similar curl. Funny, he didn't remember anything, except those two words and what he looked like. "You've been out for nearly the entire day."
"What?" he blinked.
The boy laughed. "Of course, you don't remember anything do you? Well, I'll help. I'm South Italy, you're older brother, but you can call me Romano. It's easier."
"I'm..." he faded off. He was about to say Italy, but that sounded weird, especially seeing as Romano had just told him he was South Italy. Saying he was all of Italy would be a bit weird.
"North Italy" Romano said. "You're North Italy, otherwise known as..."
"Veneziano" North Italy frowned. He hadn't meant to say that.
"Romano" a shout sounded across the open field. There was a man at the other end, striding towards them. "Where've you been all day?"
"It wasn't my fault" Romano grumbled, looking down. "Fratello wouldn't wake up."
The man blinked and glanced at Veneziano. "We were wondering when you'd show up North" he shook his head and crouched down to his height. "I'm Grandpa Rome" he extended a hand, smiling warmly.
Veneziano hesitated for a second before taking the hand.
