(Oneshot) You slowly walked down the middle of the main hallway to your school with a smile on your face. You were a nice person. At least, that was what you thought. You actually were sweet, but in your own way. Your insults were more endearing although people didn't get that more often that not. Yes, you were a violent person. You had learned that it kept the bad people away.... But it did the same to the good. Every time you smiled at someone, they shivered in fear. You didn't have many friends, but even the ones you had thought you were scary, which confused you. (I don't own you, Hetalia, the picture, or Russia. I own the storyline.)