Corrupted (DISCONTINUED)

Chapt. 5 - Express your words

•Edited•
•Pre-Edited•

~The present~

I flipped through the written pages of my notebook, looking for a blank page. I finally reach one and start writing. It's the same topic as always. Just like Mr. Cruz said, I've been following his advice for 2 years. It's been really helpful.

I clicked my tongue and thought of the correct words. After some thought and writing, I finally finished the passage. I close the book, tucking it away in my drawer. I pulled some papers from another days stack of paperwork. No country knows exactly about my problems, it would be better that way anyways.

What would they say? How a nation is writing about his feelings in some pathetic notebook? How he needed help from a human because he can't think of a better way to help himself? Or maybe I'm starting to go a bit insane like England and might see weird mythical creatures?

What am I saying?! It isn't my fault I'm like this. I sigh and run a hand through my bright blonde hair. The next meeting will be in Rome, Italy. But that isn't until next month. The meeting yesterday went well. Germany took control of it and would sometimes glance at me. Other countries would do the same, Canada especially. Speaking of them, they left to their homes already.

I looked up at the clock and read 3:58 P.M.
It was still pretty early, so I decided to rest a bit. I grabbed the journal from the drawer again with a pencil and ran downstairs.

I saw Tony in the kitchen, who was sitting down on a chair. He was holding a book upside down and looking at it weirdly. He probably never seen a book before. I sat across from him and opened my journal. I scribbled little notes and wishes in it, just randomly.

I have become obsessed with this, you see. It just calms me down, it's like this book... listens to me. It's like it knows what I'm writing. It understands me.

The silence was broken when there was a faint knock on the door. I looked up and saw Tony, looking at me. "It might be someone you know, go open it." He said, going back to examine the book. I nod, and walk towards the door.

The door opens, and I was greeted by none other then my one and only brother.

"Hey Canada! What's up? Shouldn't you be in your country?" I asked, with that obnoxious tone wrapped around my words. "Well, I thought so. The prime minister thought I should be resting up a bit, so he rewarded me with a vacation." He beamed. I can tell he's been busy as well, but not close to what I've been given. "That's great! Why are you here though?" He pondered for a moment, and he looked at me straight in the eye. "I just wanted know if I may stay here for a while, because I have no where else to turn too. I also forgot to exchange my money to your U.S. dollars, so I can't book a hotel. Of course, I don't have to stay." He explained. I nodded, understanding him. "Alright. Of course you can stay though! I need company anyways."

I moved out of the way and extended my hands, gesturing him to get inside. It's been a bit cold lately, since it's nearing December.

I quickly shut the door and look back at him. He was already in the living room, examining it for a while. "Has it always been this clean?" He asks, running a finger along a wood table. Seeing no dust on his finger surprises him. I hummed, a bit offended, but appreciated. At least he thinks it's clean.

I led him towards his room, which he gladly accepts. He then offers to cook dinner, but I told him "no." Saying I'm still the host. He nods and closes the door behind him.

I remembered my journal downstairs, which has been abondoned on the table. Another thing I remembered, Canada doesn't know about it. Now it's exposed on a table, clearly screaming the words 'Open Me' to anybody who looks at it. I wouldn't blame them though, curiousity is a strong force.

I walked down the steps and peaked into the kitchen. Tony wasn't there anymore, but I could hear the TV on. The journal was still there though. I walked over to it and grab it. I want to continue writing in it, but not here. I want to do it privately.

I grabbed a few snacks and drinks with my notebook and dash upstairs, quickly shutting my bedroom door without bothering about the loud slam I made. I plopped the food on my bed and the drinks in my mini fridge. (Who doesn't have one?) (E/N (Editor's note, which is Emmy) if you mean irl, then I don't have one :3)

And finally, sat on my chair, opening my journal with a pencil in hand.