Canada's Secret

III

Trigger warning: suicide attempts and self harm

Canada POV

One week later...

I'm nervous. Today is the G8 meeting. I don't like getting together with all the other countries. More people to ignore me. Terrific. I sigh and look in the mirror. Grey dress pants, light blue dress shirt, black dress shoes, red tie. I'm plain. The only unique thing about me is my eyes. Everyone always mad fun of my violet eyes. I hated them. I hated my hair, my face, my eyes, my everything. I looked almost exactly the same as my brother, America.

I don't like my brother... but I don't particularly hate him. He has been mean to me... well, everyone has. But he's my brother, and I grew up with him.

England never abandoned him. I think bitterly. No. Bad Canada. You can't think like this towards others. Especially not today.

I practice my pleasant little smile in the mirror and transform into happy little innocent Canada. I scowl at this thought. I make sure my pencil sharpener and screwdriver are in my pocket and head to the meeting room. The meeting is at my house this year. I check to make sure that everything is prepared and we have everything we need.

I take my place at the head of the table and sigh. Now to wait.

The first to come in is France, who for some reason sends me a worried glance as he takes his seat. Probably wondering why there isn't a host in the host chair. He probably can't see me, just like everyone else. I give him my pleasant smile just in case he can see me, and he looks more worried. He looks like he's about to say something when Russia walks in. The countries flow into the room one by one. The last to arrive is America, despite that he is staying in my house.

I stand up and start the meeting, wether or not they can see me. After I sit down and other countries start their presentations, I start to get fidgety. France goes up to the pedestal and announces, "My presentation, is a view of daily life for each of us."

He presses play and a montage of videos of us doing different things. About three clips in, I realize it's things we messed up on. I start to panic, what did he put for me? America comes onto the screen. He's eating pancakes drowning in syrup while I stand in the corner like one of Russia's sla... *ahem* friends.

Then I realize something. It's that day. I clench my fists so hard my knuckles turn white. I can hear the words America was saying in the video.

"You know Canada, why are you so cold all the time?"

"I- I don't know brother. I like the co-"

"Well I think it sucks. And why do you have all the best syrup trees?"

"Be-because they grow here brother. I don't know why the-"

"You should give them all to me. You're not strong enough to have all that power. You've always been the weakest one."

I'm tearing up in the video.

I clench my eyes shut and try to block out the video.

"No wonder everyone ignores you. Your aren't worth seeing."

About three more minutes of this torture before video me runs off the screen and the film cuts off completely.

I'm just sitting there, staring at the screen where I just rewitnessed that. I can barley keep my tears from falling. My face no longer has it's pleasant smile like always. Instead there's a frown that feels so natural I can barley tell. I stand and walk out of the room, not caring if anyone follows me.

Britain POV

I glare at America, who has a small smile on his face. Probably having a jolly good time remember how he practically tortured his younger brother. I look back at Canada to see him staring at the now black screen, tears threatening to fall from his pretty purple eyes. His face has a deep, sad frown that looks so unnatural on his face. He usually has his pleasant little smile. He stands up all of a sudden and leaves the room. Poor lad. I go back to glaring at America.

Canada POV

I go to my bathroom, where I week before I had almost died. I lock the door and reach into the cabinet and grab the bottle of pills. I shake them into my palm and touch them to my lips, breathing heavily. I go through the same routine as before*, though this time I come much closer to actually doing it, actually putting a few pills in my mouth before spitting them back into the sink. I sigh and put them back. I grab my pencil sharpener.

🇨🇦

Twenty minutes and many cuts later, I'm outside the meeting room door wearing a new shirt. I open the door and every head (except America's because he's sleeping with his head on the table) turned to look at me. I warily sit back down in my chair, uncomfortable with all the staring. Most countries looked a mix between sad, pitiful, angry, and confused. France looked downright heartbroken.

I shift in my chair and wave a hand for the others to continue their presentations. I'm not paying attention though, dark thoughts are shifting through my head.

I wish I had done it.