Title – Breakdown
Rating – M
Pairing(s) – hints of unrequited!USxUK
Genres – Angst
Warning(s) – Personified countries, self-harm
Notes – You saw the warning. You might not want to read this. I wouldn't blame you.
Also, please excuse the use of other languages. I'm hoping I didn't screw them up. They all said, "Hello, England."
Additionally, China commonly says 'ahen' rather than 'aru' when speaking to England to refer to the opium wars.

x.

Last chance to turn back.

The mind is a terrifying place to be on your own, you see.

x.

Pathetic.

A choked sob. He couldn't stop crying. He really was pathetic. The word echoed in his mind, taunting voices of everybody he had ever known allowing the taunting but true insult to slip from their lips.

Foolish.

Why was he shaking so much? The knife was shuddering violently in his tight grasp, his fingers white from the pressure, and he gasped as the blade touched his skin, still trembling above the scarred flesh.

Worthless.

Of course he was worthless. Everyone he had ever loved left him eventually. His elder brothers were supposed to love him, but all they had ever done was "toughen him up" by chasing him with weapons and forcing him to hide or kill to live ("Stop being a coward, little brother! You want to be able to be strong, aye?"); France's romantic declarations of love proved to be false or based on lust when the self-proclaimed "older brother" ingrained his own language into England by defeating him, dominating him and tainting him ("Say 'I love you', England... in my language... Come on. Lie to me. You are a very good liar..."); Japan forming an alliance with him only to end all ties and throw all of their feelings away ("I am sorry, England-san... I cannot love you."); America... just... leaving him... ("I want to be independent, England... I'm no longer your younger brother or your colony.")

Disgusting.

Nobody could ever love him... He had done so many horrible things and he couldn't even bring himself to regret some of them. He remembered the thrill of claiming more colonies and seeing the anguish in the eyes of their families (No wonder China hates me...), the adrenaline rush of killing nameless people, the bloodlust pumping through his veins as he locked eyes with whoever his enemy was at the time...

He was repulsive. Nobody could ever want to be with him... He was a monster. He had to rid himself of the monster. But it was surrounding him constantly - it was inside of him.

"Get out," he whispered, eyes wide and dull and his lips trembling. "Get out!"

The blade could never go deep enough to get the monster out...

Droplets of crimson dripped onto a picture of the allies - America's arm draped gingerly over his shoulders, France basking in the satisfaction of being able to touch him again, Russia standing beside America with his violet eyes glinting, and China opting to stand beside his fellow communist rather than be near someone as revolting as him...

"Help me," he pleaded, shaking back and forth as he stared at all of the pictures of false smiles on his walls and his tables. Too many faces that had all disappeared after allowing lies to spill from tainted lips-

He couldn't breathe. He was suffocating in himself.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, and the silent pictures just watched him, wishing he would suffer more.

He shared their hope.

x.

"Bonjour, Angleterre," a French accented voice purred as he entered the meeting room, and prowling hands skuled around his back. He never spoke many words to him, because they both knew all the underlying messages his tone and his touches meant-

England felt his skin crawl.

"Ni hao, Yīnggélán. You were almost late, ahen," China murmured, tone as soft and silky as always but also with the constant tone of loathing beneath the smooth voice. Always quick to point out every little thing that seemed insignificant, and with that suffix saved only for him because of what he did-

He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.

"Privet, Angliya." Russia smiled at him even though he had no reason to do so. They were allies but Russia detested him or didn't care about him. He was fixated on China and America and England was just in the way. Forever smiling with dead eyes that saw right through him-

He prayed that he wasn't trembling.

Emerald eyes peered up through his fringe that he had been forgetting to trim lately, not that it mattered since nobody ever looked at him and nobody ever noticed- (He tugged his sleeves down and sucked in a shakey breath at the burning.) "Hello, America," he greeted, cursing himself for the whispery, breathless voice that made him sound so goddamn weak... He was never stronger than America though, was he? He once had more resources and he had more experience, but he was nothing compared to the younger nation in terms of strength... He could break his neck faster than his heart.

America didn't even look at him. "Hi, England."

Don't call me England... That's the monster's name...