A Fading Light

It

The lights had a harsh multi-colored glare from the multiple thin sheets of different colored cloths that were draped over it. The party room it was illuminating was just as harsh and rough as the lights, at least to America it was. He sat huddled on one end of a rather small couch that was in the corner of the room, trying to avoid the drunken roughhousing and joking of the other countries. It's not like he wanted to come, it's just that Canada said he needed to socialize more. 'I don't think he understands why I don't socialize anymore...' he sighed out.
Lately, a lot of countries have been taking his worsening depression to their advantage, whether by blackmailing him through various secrets they found out, by using his emotions against him through guilt-tripping, or making him feel certain things to manipulate him to do several things, usually to their benefit. These things they do often set him up for giving them an excuse to put even more blame and hatred on him, causing even more countries to turn on him. Thing is though, it doesn't matter how aware of it he is, he's a pushover. A doormat for others to step all over. He just wants to make everyone happy, to like him, but they just see that as a weakness and him being naïve and arrogant and use it against him. His depression is fueled by his self-loathing and guilt from all the mistakes he made. All the times he made the wrong choice and ended up leaving with more ruined and lost lives than saved. This made him feel horrible about himself, worthless, weak, and like he doesn't belong. Sometimes he wishes he could just shrivel up and die, to erase his existence from the world in hopes of preventing himself from ruining more lives, from creating more problems and debts that others have to fix, and up with only more resentment than the appreciation he so desperately yearned for. But why should he be appreciated if all he does is make a mess of things that he never cleans up?
'He probably got me to come to lure me in for some bullies..' He grimaced at the thought, but couldn't bring himself to leave, not when a certain Asian was approaching him now.
"Nǐ hǎo, America! I see you decided to come after all," China piped up, in a tone much too cheery for America's liking. China popped down in the loveseat beside him. "So how are you enjoying it?"
"Uh- th-the party? It's..alright, I guess..." America stuttered, feeling very uncomfortable with China's overly kind attitude. It was suspicious.
"Well that's good to hear! I on the other hand am having quite a lot of fun! Though not nearly as much fun as-" he leaned in close. "-you paying off your debts." Now America was really uncomfortable, and his worry and anxiety is only growing. Topics like these never end well. "So where's the money, America? Or do I have to use a little more persuasion to get you to hand it over?" He now had a tight grip on America's arm, one that was sure to leave a mark. America held back a whimper. It was only going to make things worse.
"I-I don't have it yet...b-but I'm trying to pay it off though! I-I swear! It just takes a bit to get the money..." he stammered, already thinking of a way to escape. China wasn't too happy with that answer.
"A bit? A bit?! I've waited years for you to pay it off! Years! And you daresay a bit?!" he roared at him. America flinched and shrunk back slightly. China noticed, and scoffed at him, suddenly pulling him roughly off the couch and dragging him to the front door. "How about I show you what happens to bad little countries who don't pay what they owe." America was pushed roughly onto the concrete walkway, scraping his knees a bit, and kicked to the ground. He yelped. China put a foot on his back and pushed down, jabbing his heel into his shoulder blades. That was sure to leave a mark too. He leaned down to America, now towering over his shaking body.
"Here's a little thing you learn when you become an independent country," he sneered. "When you go asking for another country to lend something to you-" he pushed his heel further into his back, causing America to wince. "-you owe them a little something in return. Do you know what that something is? I'm sure you do." He lifted his foot a few inches, then stomped down on him, hard. America cried out in pain. "Money. That is what you owe. And you know what happens when you don't pay that money back?" China lifted his foot again, this time moving it to the American's side. "It builds up. More and more, to the point where you owe so much you crumble. And when the time comes where you're forced to pay off that debt, you'll be bankrupt. Bankrupt to the point where you have to work for that money back. And who will you have to work for? Me!" he finished with a shout, roughly kicked America in the ribs, forcibly causing him to turn on his side.
China didn't stop though. He continued kicking him in his stomach. America coughed and cried out in pain. That alone was definitely gonna result in at least a broken rib or two, and quite a few nasty bruises as well. He cried for him to stop, but the Chinese man was relentless. He stopped eventually, yes, with America coughing up blood now, but it was only to lift him up by the collar of his now dirty T-shirt, and punch him square in the face. That was sure to leave a mark too. In the form of a bloody and possibly broken nose. China threw him back onto the ground. America groaned.
"Perhaps now you've learned your lesson, hm?" he jeered, then his attitude changed. "Well, zhídào xià yīci, America!" China chirped, spinning on his heel and headed back in the house, probably to join his friends.

America laid for God knows how long until people started leaving. Some shoved him out of the way with their foot, leaving him limp in the grass. Canada eventually came out laughing with a couple of his friends, but when he saw America pitiful form he sighed out. In annoyance? America wasn't sure. He was barely staying awake by now. Canada muttered something to his friends, to which they nodded to and left without Canada. Canada went over to America, face void of any emotion, and lifted America up, heaving it over his shoulder without much care for his injuries. America let out a weak moan then slowly slipped away from consciousness.

America woke up in his bed. He was sore all over, and when he tried to move pain suddenly shot through his entire body and he hissed in pain and reeled back. He sighed out in defeat and stared up at the ceiling, eyes dull. His phone began to buzz on the nightstand, so he turned his head stiffly and tried to lean up a bit to see who it was. After several seconds of trying to lift himself up high enough to read what's on the screen despite the pain, he finally saw who it was. And to be honest, he felt kind of relieved. It was the only one who hasn't judged or try to manipulate him and use him to his advantage.

It was his father, UK.

Translations

Chinese
Nǐ hǎo- hello
zhídào xià yīci- until next time