France's part:
I heard the front door open and saw Ireland limp quietly in.
"Ireland...?" I asked and saw him jump slightly and turn to look at me. He was covered in bruises and cuts and his rouge hair was a mess.
I walked over to him and gently whispered, "what happened, Ireland?" he trembled and started to mumble something, but I heard Britain yell at the top of the stairs.
"WHERE THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU ALL DAY, YOU SELFISH TWIT!" Ireland trembled and went to speak, but his knees buckled and he collapsed on the ground. The door opened behind us, Canada at it. He dropped the glass bottle he had in his hands and it shattered in a mix of maple syrup and glass. He ran over to Ireland and checked his pulse.
Canada's part:
I let out a sigh of relief. I looked up at Britain in disbelief.
"Nothings' good enough for you, is it?" I told him in a cold, hard voice. I held Ireland in my arms and brought him up the stairs. As I reached the top, I heard the front door open and Ame come in with Philip.
As I reached Ireland's room, he started to moan." Stop... Please, I won't.... I don't care... Please.." I was worried, so I put him on his bed and slowly shook him awake. He opened his eyes, but I could tell he wasn't fully awake. He tried to move but moaned in pain.
"Shush.. It's OK... Just go to sleep.." I whispered to him.
As I walked outside, I heard him gently whisper.
"Thanks, mam..."
YOU ARE READING
🍻☘️🇮🇪A Story About Ireland🇮🇪☘️🍻
Ficción históricaHello! This is an actual attempt at a good story.. So yeah.. Please enjoy. Warning: History Words in other lauguages References to depression and self-harm Swearing Britain being an ass Bad grammar If you want to find out what they mean, put them in...
