Town of Death

Chapter 1 - The end

Run; That is all I am thinking at the moment. My breathing was sharp and the pain in my legs was unbearable but I pushed trough it. I had to. The grip on my father's gun tightened in my right hand to try and ease away the pain but it did not help so gritting my sharp shark like teeth,(which was something that ran in the family) I endured the pain. I could hear the pounding of my heart in my head screaming at me and telling me to stop but I only carried on with my mission. This will be the last thing I will do and I will not screw it up. Not like I screw up everything else in my life

Tall towering tree quickly pass me as I continue to sprint through the forest. My destination at this point was unclear but it had to be somewhere far away from town so no one finds me. All that could be heard beside the beating of my heart and my deep gulps for air was the crunching of leaves beneath my snow boots. Lucky for me it did not snow today and by the time i've finished with what i'm doing it should be dark due to it becoming really dark, really early. Muffled scream like shouts could be heard but dismissed as children playing or my brain playing tricks on me.

Suddenly, a cold winter breeze harshly pushes me causing me to stop and cuddle more into the oversized grey sweater I had on. Placing the gun into my hoodie pocket, I wrapped my arms around myself in a self-hug sort-of way. Doing this made a tear roll down my eye despite the small smile that was still placed on my face. This hoodie wasn't mine, even if I loved wearing oversized clothing that made me look like I was drowning in fabric. No, this hoodies is one I stole borrowed from my boyfriend.

My boyfriend...

Russia...

During our childhood we were best friends. Then enemies, then colleagues, then friends and now lovers. Would he care if I left the house and never came back? Would he cry over my dead body? Probably not because he is probably annoyed at me. I'm always clingy and always having emotional flashbacks that leave me crying. He deserves way better than a loser like me. So I hope he moves on. And I hope everyone else does to.

Like America, I class him as my foster parent since he took me after I was split. He was always there for me during those dreadful years were I was split in two. He comforted me and took me in as his own. Even if I took me a while to trust him, he was always patient and we got really close after that. But he is always busy now, with either chaotic stuff or work. Back during the cold war, he was so focused on work and now hes turned into a real party animal. How one person can switch their personality completely after the death of one union still surprises me to this day.

Then Japan and Italy. My best friends. We've know each other since we were babies and have always been by each others sides - if you don't count those few years were Italy left us. Even their personalities have changed massively ; for the better or for the worst I don't know. Japan has a weird obsession with some stuff she keeps showing me that I don't want to get into while Italy has become amazing at cooking like his father which is great, but also is obsessed with spaghetti. Despite that would they care?

Then Austria and Switzerland or my 'therapists'. I've known them most my life and they are the one I would go to if I had a problem. Austria also being distantly related to me and standing as my last living family member is great support and helps me through panic attacks and Switzerland being, well, Switzerland.

France has been through a lot with the recent divorce and everything. We are close but not that close.
Britain hates my guts. For multiple reasons.
So does Poland and basically every other country.

Before setting into the unknown forest, I sent most a letter that should arrive to them by the time I'm dead. Some being longer than others while some being shorter. (One being so short that all it says is:
'I expect you to pay me back  :)'
~Germany'
- try to guess who that ones for :) )