The Tragic of England

The Sickness

     Leading this idea, I went back downstairs to the back door, glancing around to see England gone. I sighed sadly before digging out the radio from underneath the couch and heading down to the pond. I flicked on the electronic as soon as I collapsed onto the bench for the second time in twenty-four hours and listened intently. Upon recognizing the song, I darkened. Family Portrait by P!nk. I’m sure your no expert in songs, so let me just say its a bit depressing. Sadly, I was depressed and it just felt right it sing along to. And Naturally, I had no problem with sing along. I knew every word like I knew the beating of my own heart.

     “Mamma please stop cryin’,

     I can’t stand the sound,

     your pain is painful and its staring me down!

     I hear glasses breaking as I sit up in my bed!

     I told Dad you didn’t mean those nasty things you said!

     You fight about money, ‘bout me and my brother~!

     and this I come home to, 

     this is my shelter!

     it ain’t easy growing up in World War Three, 

     never knowing what love could be, you’ll see,

     I don’t want love to destroy me like it has does my family!

     Can we work it out?

     Can we be a family?

     Promise I’ll be better!

     Mommy I’ll do anything!

     Can we work it out?

     Can we be a family?

     Promise I’ll be better!

     Daddy please don’t leave!”

     Though I utterly hated the song, it described me so well. I dug around in my pocket, suddenly very aware of it buzzing the ringtone of a call. I lowered the volume and answered with a quiet, “Hello?”

     “I’m coming by after school and tutoring you on all the things you missed today Destiny. Be prepared,” I heard my English teacher growl. I quickly thought up an excuse.

     “I’m sorry Mr. Kelly, but my parents took me out of the country and I won’t be home today,” I lied. There was a slight disappointed pause before my teacher said goodbye. One less person I had to worry about. I hung up and looked to see the last message from my parents was over a month ago. I sighed. Too busy to even text a single phrase to their daughter. I felt my face scrunch up in disgust. 

     I sighed, looking at the phone. It was pretty old. It was the first phone I ever got. My parents had given it to me when I was thirteen, right before they started leaving for the months on end. I turned it in my hands, looking at the engraving that read, ‘work is no comparison to our daughter.’ I laughed bitterly before standing up, reeling my arm back and flinging the phone as far across the pond as I could. The only person to ever call me on that damn thing was Mr. Kelly, and even then it was to nag her about how she was almost never on time.

     I turned angrily, looking upon my next target. Originally, it was the house itself, but upon finding a rather surprised looking Arthur, I tried to slowly relieve my anger. It vanished all at once, much to my disappointment. Nausea. I crumpled to my knees in my dizzy state. I vaguely heard my name before hands made contact with my shoulders. I looked up to only see a very blurry England. By the way his voice sounded, he was unsure of what to do.

     My vision came back for the most part. “I’m okay, really! Quit worrying about me! Why haven’t you left yet?” I took deep breaths as I stood up. I wasn’t as  uneven as I was yesterday, but I could tell I needed my medication. Arthur guided me back inside, much to my dismay. He set me down on the couch before sitting with me. I repeated myself, “why haven’t you left yet?”

     “For the exact reason I just witnessed! Do you realize what the hell you do to yourself when you overreact on something? You bloody fool! You could seriously damage your brain that way,” he ranted. I simply tuned him out and closed my eyes. Sleep suddenly seemed quite appealing. And that’s saying quite a lot, when you put in the detail of I wasn’t even out of bed an hour ago.

     Hands cupped my cheeks and I instinctively opened my eyes, “listen to me! Your going to hurt yourself if you don’t get your emotions under control! Do you need special care or something?” I glared at him, but I really wasn’t that angry. Honestly, I didn’t even understand how he knew of my disease, considering Alfred told him. It angered me that he was asking me about special treatment though. I hated being treated different! That’s why I had no friends in the first place. All the teachers tried keeping me extra calm and gave me less work. Mr. Kelly was really the only one to treat me as he treated everyone else.

     “I don’t need special care! I’m not that sick! I can hold my own just fine! I’ve managed this far,” I seethed. Something about the way I worded it made England ease off a moment. It was as if something just clicked. He was putting his own words together though, so I patiently waited. He looked back at me with flaring forest greens.

     “How long have you had the bloody disease anyways? Alfred says the disease is caused by something in your mind triggering shock, fear, and a few other glands. It seems that something tragic would have to happen, though,” He almost growled. I let out an exasperated sigh.

     “I’ve had the case since I was nine. My parents were gone and my maid was mad at me for something I can’t recall as horrible. She tried beating me but upon finding I was much smarter in fighting technique than she was, she threw me in the pond. I didn’t know how to swim. I almost drowned. If it weren’t for my neighbor having seen the whole thing and come to my rescue, I wouldn’t be here,” I informed him. I found it a useless bit of information that wasn’t going to hurt anyone but me. England seemed appalled at first, but I didn’t stay around to hear his response. That was made up anyways. No maid in their right mind would try such a thing! Then again, the beating part was true...