The Voice In My Head ~UsUk~

Chapter 2

I don't own Hetalia, if I did there would be so many couples it would be unbelievable!

{England's POV}

I awoke to the repetitive beeping of my phone alarm. I was sore all over and lying in a pool of my own sweat. I picked up my phone from the bedside table and pressed the lock button to check the time, 07:32, I got up slowly and shuffled to the bathroom that was built adjoining my bedroom. At least I didn't have to walk down the hall in the middle of the night if I needed to use the toilet of something. I flicked on the lights and gave a tiny scream at the image I saw in the mirror. My upper body was decorated with 4 extremely noticeable scars, 2 on my chest, 1 on my stomach and one that I could just see on my shoulder, I turned around and craned my neck to check if there was any on my back. There was. I could see the one that was on my shoulder, that was relatively small compared to the huge mark that went down the right side of my back. From my right shoulder blade to the right side of my hip. It even covered a bit of my guitar tattoo, I regretted that tattoo so much. Damn punk phase. I was slightly relieved though, at least they didn't look red and bloody, that was a perk of being a nation: healing un-naturally fast. I tried to get the marks out of my mind as I jumped in the shower and turned on the water, letting it wash over me. I wasn't that tired, even though I only slept for a few hours it was the best sleep I've had in a while. After a few minutes I stepped out the shower and dried myself quickly. I sighed as I looked through my wardrobe for something to wear, all my clothes were rather old fashioned, after I had found some boxers I rummaged around for something more...young. I found some dark blue skinny jeans and a grey t-shirt and put on the items I had gathered, looking in the mirror I smiled. It had been a long time since I had worn anything like this. You look so silly in those Arthur. What about a nice pink vest? My blood ran cold. Was...was that Oliver?
"Where are you, you bastard?!" I yelled, turning around to make sure he wasn't behind me. In your head, poppet. I have finally broken you enough to do this, but, there's still a-ways to go before I can control you. And don't curse, it's not nice. I didn't know if I should be grateful or not, he wasn't in this world but he was in my head. Trying to clear my mind I grabbed a jacket and went downstairs to make some tea before leaving for the meeting. It was being held in England so I didn't need to rush to much, I knew where I was going, it would look bad if I got lost in my own country. As the kettle boiled I wondered how I had 'broke' enough to allow Oliver this power, I didn't really know how I had broke, was it meant in a physical or mental way? My health was fine besides the marks but I doubted they had caused this. Maybe it was my mind, I had always been seen as 'crazy' for talking to fairies and Flying Mint Bunny, is it possible Oliver took advantage of that? The kettle boiled and as I poured the hot water into the cup I looked at the calendar that was pinned on my kitchen wall. It was July 2nd. It was two days until Americas birthday. I started to shake, I always got extremely sick around his birthday. I had never really healed the wounds he made when he left me alone. Then it clicked. I had broke because of America, the burger eating, self proclaimed 'hero'. But that was impossible, I didn't harbour any feelings towards him, not really, I feel no love or hate towards him. Not that I know of anyway. I drank my tea in silence, confused by the whole ordeal. It seemed impossible. After I had finished I put my cup in the sink, grabbed my car keys and headed out to go to the meeting. I supposed it wouldn't really matter it I slept last night, I wouldn't be paying attention during today's meeting, I would be thinking about how the hell this had happened and how it was possible that I had feelings for the stupid American. I didn't have feelings for him, he was an annoying idiot that always pestered me. But I surprisingly didn't hate him, I couldn't hate someone that had once loved and depended on me so much.