The United States (A Hetalia fanfic)

Chapter 13

Trigger warnings: Descriptions of mental illness, dissociation and self harm

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Inside Alfred's mind it was like something was constantly scratching at him and he wondered if the feeling would ever go away. It was an uncomfortable feeling, one that drove him mad and made him want to escape his own body.

The war was over and yet the insanity continued on. Torturing him. Mocking him. Throughout the war he would have a splitting headache and dizzy spells. He would look in the mirror and see the Confederacy, he would talk to him too. Yell at him to get out and leave him the hell alone.

He would hear screams in his ears and would feel like some of his body parts were falling off, would hallucinate and dream up horrible things. Faces sneering down at him, spitting in his face. A crowded street of people passing him as he begged for help, treating him like a ghost. A throne surrounded by fire that burnt so hot it would cause his eyes to melt and fall out of his head.

Somehow Alfred would hold onto himself and push through. Go where he needed to go, do what he needed to do but he could tell by the facial expressions of those around him that they could see it. The madness that clawed at his throat at night, the darkness that pulled at his hair.

There was much of the war he did not remember, most of the memories were when he would think of his children. Not as Florida, Texas, Georgia, Tennessee or the rest of the southern states but as Alexander Isaac, David Theodor, Cynthia Art, Ricky George... names he had chosen so carefully and held close to his heart. In these moments he wasn't America, he was Alfred but that didn't come with peace.

It came with panic and sadness.

He had other memories. Short ones. They were of New York's concerned face looking at Alfred like he was desperately looking for something, Alfred didn't know what.

Now the war had ended and all except for Florida had returned under the same roof. Tensions still felt high as they all attempted normality once more. Usually Alfred was the one to screw it all up though.

The states would roam the home quietly, speak in hushed voices, no longer was the dinner table filled with loud laughter and silly jokes but that was all to be expected. What wasn't expected was how when Alfred caught a glimpse of himself in a reflection he would flinch, how he locked his bedroom door at night and didn't respond when his children would knock, how he had to push himself to look his southern children in the eye and how he couldn't help the cold look he would often give them.

It made Georgia shrink away, it caused Alabama to stutter and Tennessee looked as stiff as a soldier under that gaze. When New York would see him flinch he'd ask if he was okay and Alfred was quick to say 'yes' and Pennsylvania would glance as neck none stop, cringing at the red marks that were there.

One day a knock came to the door and Alfred stayed seated in the living room staring mindlessly at the fire. The knock came again as Colorado came walking down the stairs, glancing in the living room as he passed and shaking his head at the sight of Alfred sitting there. He opened the door and smiled joyfully. "Uncle Matt." He said, his voice sounding scratchy.

Matthew frowned at the sound but hugged his nephew anyway. "Where is Alfred?" The quiet British colony asked. Colorado motioned for him to follow.

Matthew followed Colorado to the entrance of the living room where the boy stopped before motioning to Alfred who sat on the couch staring into the fire. Colorado looked at Matthew with a sad expression. "He does that a lot." He told Matthew who nodded in understanding and moved into the living room.

Matthew walked in front of Alfred blocking his view of the fire and crouched down putting his hands on Alfred's shoulders. "Al?" Matthew asked and Alfred blinked in response. "Remember I told you to hang on as long as you could? During the war?"