America the Mysterious (United States of America #1.5)

Memories of Blood and Fire

Once again, I'm not trying to offend anyone here, especially those who do have PTSD. I understand that this is not a topic to smile or laugh about, so therefore I'm not going to sugarcoat anything here or make any jokes about it in any way, shape, or form, and if you don't want to read this fic you're free to leave. Also if you or someone you know is suffering from PTSD, please don't be afraid to ask for help, and know that you're not alone.

"France, Spain, zhe awesome me has an idea!" Prussia declared with that laugh of his.

"What is it amigo?" Spain asked good-naturedly.

"Jou know Maine?"

"Amerique's son?" France asked.

"Ja! I vas zhinking ve should see how zhe guy reacts to pranks."

France couldn't hold back an amused smile. "What do you have in mind?"

Prussia shrugged. "Jou know, zhe usual firecrackers und all. So, vhat do jou guys say?"

"I am in!" France beamed.

"Um..." Spain began, uncertain.

Looks like he seemed to be the only reluctant one here, but can you blame him? There was something off about Maine, something sinister under that shy and Mama's boy exterior. Spain may be a goofball, but if there was one thing he wasn't, he wasn't stupid, except when it came to America obviously, but of course the tan-skinned nation didn't know how well of an actress she really was.

"A-Are you sure amigo?" Spain stammered. "I don't think this is a--"

"Oh don't vorry jourself Spain!" Prussia brushed off. "Ve'll be alright, and so vill Maine."

If only he knew what he was getting them into.

~~~

Maine was walking down the hallways, eager to see his mother as he carried the papers she wanted to the meeting room. He was still hesitant to speak to his father and uncle, even though the two men were different from the monsters he saw from the past. The memory of Washington burning nearly came to mind, but Maine immediately pulled out his little radio to listen to his mother's singing voice, sending the memory away.

He didn't want another breakdown, and not here of all places, where he would more than possibly harm someone innocent, like little Latvia.

However, the universe seemed to hate him, because something erupted under his feet.

"Uh?!" The movement was so sudden that Maine dropped his little radio, and looking down at the ground, all he saw was fire.

Just...fire. Smoke was filling his lungs and stinging his eyes as he desperately ran to find his mother and Daniel. It was so hard to even breathe, and the one-year-old Maine didn't know what was going on, expect for one thing.

Washington D.C. was burning, and that meant the British and Canadian troops have reached and attacked the capital. That also meant...

No...please don't let it be true.

Don't let it be true!

Maine burst from the forest, seeing a fiery inferno, people running for their lives, people screaming in agony, fire consuming everything it touched, and...and...

...there was a certain scream, one that Maine will never forget.

A two-year-old Daniel was running towards him, covered completely in flames and screaming in agony as they licked his tiny body. His skin was sizzling as if it was hamburger meat, and Maine could smell the burning flesh where he stood, and he was wondering why he wasn't spitting up all the food he had to eat earlier on the ground before him.