B l o o m (CountryHumans AU by MapleChild)

<Youth>

My wrist is released, dropping me to the floor. I curl up in a ball, hugging my knees. Im too scared to move. Australia grabs my wrist, making me yelp. He ends up pulling me up and practically dragging me upstairs. "Remember one thing. You stay here. At the house." He lets me go and pushes me to the ground. He slams the door to my room. I lay on the floor and curl up on the ground. I stay there for a long time. I don't want to get up. I don't want to move.
I remember being little, being thrown into the closet and staying there, hearing mom crying and my Father shouting. I remember curling up and crying too, my breaths getting shorter and shorter until it was like I couldn't breath.
I cry into my arms after remembering what had happened years ago. I hoped that anyone would hear me crying. Anybody but them. I whimper softly, until I get too tired and end up getting up and going to the bed, curling into the bedsheets and drift off.
I don't have a dream, I don't have a nightmare. It's like my mind is blank and I'm walking around in the deafening silence of an extremely dark room. I wake up about 30 minutes later. I feel way too warm. "Wh.." I say to myself, sitting up. I feel like I got punched in the gut. I rub my eyes and get out of bed, moving cautiously to the bathroom where I check my temperature. I've always had to take care of myself, why should now be different? When I remove the stick from my mouth, it reads 102°. Great. This is the last thing I need right now. I wish my brother was here. I wish anybody was here.
[TimeSkip 30 minutes]
I end up laying back down, the pain becoming almost unbearable. I hear my name being called from the bottom of the steps. I flinch. Am I in trouble? "Dinner!" Australia calls. I move out of bed too quickly, causing my head to start spinning. I haven't eaten since this morning, so I should probably take the risk. It might even help me get better. I walk down the staircase slowly, examining my surroundings. I walk to the small dining room that I know too familiarly. "Jesus." Australia says, looking me up and down. "Eat up and get to bed, I don't want whatever you got." Australia says, disgusted. I sigh and sit down, eating slowly as to not hurt my stomach any more. Father raises his hand to me and I flinch and pull away slightly. He grabs my shoulder roughly and places his hand on my forehead. I open my eyes and look up. He looks down at me, and for a moment, I don't see the monster I know. I see a side of Father I've only seen at Conferences, or around others. He quickly reverts his gaze to my brother. "Get a washrag wet with cold water." He commands. My brother reluctantly obliges,walking over to the kitchen sink and dousing a washrag with cold water. He hands it to father who looks down at me. "Eating will make the fever worse." He states, giving me the rag. "You know what to do by now. Go lay down." He says. I nod and walk up the stairs leading directly to my door. I sit down and put the towel on my head. After I get over my fever, He'll just hurt me all over again. He always does this.
[TS-35~minutes (These must get annoying ;-;]
I lay in bed, wide awake. I hear voices from downstairs. My name being thrown around, before Australia gets up and says something about me too loudly under his breath, running up the stairs and closing his door fast, causing it to slam "accidentally". I can't believe he doesn't care. If I slammed a door, I wouldn't have dinner for a month, id probably even be put in the closet for a while. I get up and out of bed. I feel much better, I guess I just needed to lay down, but that's a bad thing. If I had stayed sick the abuse would have stopped for a while longer. I walked down the stairs, peering around the corner to the kitchen. Fathers not there, and the dishes are still on the table. Not normal, especially for father. I walk into the kitchen and pick up the plates, tossing the leftovers into the trash. I place the dishes in the sink carefully. All I can do is do what I used to until I can get out of here. I turn on the sink water, waiting for it to get hot enough to sting my hands until I start washing them. I grab a cup after I had washed the plates. I'm so used to doing this that it doesn't bother me to do things I'm not told to. "Why are you up?" Australia says. I jump and clutch the old glass in my hand, causing it to break unexpectedly. I yelp and clench teeth as the warm water flows into the wounds left by the multiple shards of glass now at the bottom of the sink. Australia sighs deeply. "Could you prevent yourself from doing something wrong for once?" He says, grabbing my arm and pulling me off the stool I stood on to be able to reach the sink. "Aren't you sick or something?" He says, walking me to the bathroom and opening the drawer that holds the medical supplies. Before I can answer, he speaks above me. "I'm only doing this because dad will have my head if this gets infected." He says while opening the kit and taking out the small towelettes that are pre-doused in rubbing Alcohol. He rips open the package and motions for me to open my hand. When I do, red drips from the wounds. He grabs a washrag from the shelf and dabs it on the gash through the middle of my hand. It causes me to tense up, and inhale sharply through my teeth. He chuckles. "That hurts?" He chuckles and takes the rag off, immediately putting the towelette on the wound. I clutch the hem of my shirt. After a few seconds of moving the rag around the open wound, he throws the red stained towelette into the trash, wrapping a bandage around the wound. I look down, and words spill out of my mouth. "Why do you hate me?" I ask. It's a genuine question. He almost recoils in shock. "Look. I don't hate you, alright? It's just.." he trails off, looking around as if the answer lays somewhere in the room. "Get to bed. I have to finish the dishes and clean up the sink." He pushes me out of the bathroom. I decide not to push, and walk up the stairs. I open my own room door quietly, shutting it gently and crawling into bed. My hand stung like crazy, it felt like it just happened. Father will be angry I broke the glass, I know it. Unless Australia chooses not to tell him. I begin thinking, I broke a whole glass with my hands. Am I also capable of violence? Just like him?
I go to bed afraid. I guess tomorrow will tell.

[A/N: Extra long chapter because last one was short \(-•_•-)/But hey what u gonna do? Family sucks and so does living lmao
I may do an Ask Canada series (With art wow) If y'all want me too :0
Alrighty cya I guess 👌