3rd person.
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Alfred slipped out of bed, ignoring his distorted reflection in the cracked mirror. He stepped carefully around the broken shards of glass on the floor.
He mustered up the courage to look at himself. He did not see the United States of America, the land of the free and the home of the brave. He did not see the Land of Opportunity. He didn't even see Alfred. What he saw was vastly different. He saw a broken man. Lonely. Desperate, even. In his eyes, he saw sadness, fear, and.... emptiness. No hope.
A ringing phone jolted him out of his thoughts. He reached over and looked at the ID. It was Matthew. He had twenty missed calls from Arthur. 17 from Francis, 43 from Maria and Diego combined, 5 from Spain, and 62 from Matthew. Shit, how much have I missed? He thought. He hadn't left his room in weeks, save the bathroom and a bite of toast every three days or so.
Maybe... they do care?
Who are you kidding? Who could love someone like you?
I guess you're right, C.
Of always am, U. Why else did I almost win?
Almost.
Fuck off.
You fuck off.
I'm stuck in your head. I can't.
Looks like we're both fucked.
He sighed and shook his head. As he was about to throw his phone back onto his bed, it buzzed.
Arthur: Where the fuck have you been? You haven't been to the meeting in years.
Alfred: I'll go to the next one. I promise.
Arthur: You say that everytime. I expect you to actually be there, this time.
YOU ARE READING
Descent
FanfictionMany things fall. Such as heros. All heros eventually fall. Some because of a villian. But America? No, this hero was falling to something else. Something worst. Something more painful. He was falling to those he thought we're his friends and fami...
