My American Oneshot Book

Oneshot 15

This one is going to be depressing, so grab the tissues.

Seriously, like I cried while writing it and shit gets intense.

Triggers- extreme self-hate, depression, death, (fictional) attack

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The world meeting was being held in Paris that fateful day. It was sunny out and the sky was pure blue, not a single cloud appeared the eternal sky. America had been sitting at his normal spot at the meeting table, which was, of course, the head. He watched all his bullies fight one another. That's right, bullies. No nation really liked America all that much. Centuries of bullying finally began to show through America's face. His eyes seemed lifeless, dark rings were always present underneath those lifeless eyes, his skin lost its glow, his hair lost its shine, his smile twitched slightly, his cheeks were sunken in, and his laugh was strained. But, nobody noticed. Nobody noticed how every insult made his eye slightly twitch and fraction his smile. Nobody noticed how he never ate around them. Nobody even noticed how meek he had become. But they still continued the verbal abuse: the insults, the comebacks, the mockings. Matthew didn't even defend him but instead joined the bullies as they berated Alfred. Alfred couldn't take another meeting with it, so he finally snapped.

He had just stood up with a full presentation, one which he worked months for. As soon as he got to the podium, he could see the sly smirks and silent snickers coming from his fellow nations. Before Alfred could even open his mouth, a bucket of ice-cold water dumped straight onto him. It ruined it expensive suit, destroyed his nice leather shoes, and totally disheveled his once well-kept hair. Alfred clenched the podium as everyone began to laugh.

That. Was. Enough.

SNAP

"WHAT THE HELL DID I EVER FUCKING DO TO ANY OF YOU?! I KNOW I HAVE FUCKED UP AND MY IDEAS AREN'T THE GREATEST! BUT AT LEAST I'M FUCKING TRYING TO HELP THIS DAMN PLANET! I TRIED TO MAKE UP FOR MY MISTAKES! I TRIED TO BE NICE AND LITERALLY TOOK THIS CRAP FOR FUCKING CENTURIES! MY ASS HAS ALWAYS BEEN THERE WHEN ANY OF YOU NEEDED HELP! I SUPPLIED EVERY ONE OF YOU IN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER! WHETHER IT BE A NATURAL DISASTER OR WAR, I HELPED OUT OF MY OWN FREE WILL! THIS IS WHAT I GET IN RETURN!" Alfred stuck out his arms, showing the drenched suit to the now utter silent nations, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL TO DO ANYMORE! DOES MAKING ME FEEL LIKE SHIT REALLY HELP YOU ALL FEEL THAT MUCH BETTER ABOUT YOURSELVES?! IF SO, THEN YOU CAN FIND A NEW PUNCHING BAG! I'M FUCKING OUT OF HERE! I DON'T NEED THIS BULLSHIT! LOOK OVER MY PRESENTATION YOURSELF, JACKASSES!" Alfred stormed out and slammed the doors shut behind him. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he bolted from the meeting room. He ran out of the building and breathed in Paris' fresh air. He began to walk back to the hotel to pack when he heard a high pitched shriek.

WITH NATIONS

Everybody was silent. America just got angry. Not even playfully or passively angry. But full force angry. The nations held their breaths until England got up to look at the presentation his former colony was about to show. The papers were detailed, organized, and clean. The writing was professional and eloquent, almost as if an Old English poet had written it. The idea itself was marvelous, bright, and useful. England's so-called "disappointment" was in fact an intelligent, patient, and hopefully forgiving soul. England showed the paper to Germany, who showed it to China, who showed it to Japan. Each nation got a good look at that "dumb American's" idea. It was a perfect solution to which they all agreed upon. Suddenly, France went rigid and he began to cough madly. He collapsed to his knees and began to tremble. England and Canada knelt beside him and helped steadied his breath.

"Somebody, turn on a bloody television!" England ordered.

"Hai!" Japan found a remote and switched it on. A huge building was up in flames, the reporter speaking quickly in French. Seychelles and Monaco were able to catch most of it.