Canada's Secret

VIII

Canada POV

"Who?" I 'ask', standing just inside the door to the conference room, a small, sad smile on my face.

"Matthieu." Papa rushes up and hugs me.

"Hello." I scan the room, taking in the faces of my fellow nations, most of whom can now see me. Several of them look like gaping fish, opening and closing their mouths as if trying to find words.

Finally, Hungary speaks up. "What did you mean by tally?"

I give her a soft smile, she had usually been able to remember me. "That is my own information, Miss Hungary. If you don't mind, I wish to have a word with my brother."

England shoves America to his feet, much to the country's confusion. I roughly grab hold of his arm he shakes his head as his eyes widen in shock. He can see me. I drag him out of the conference room and down several hallways. When we reach a secluded one, I turn and face him.

"Wh-who are you?" He asks. "Y-you look just like me."

I glare at him. "I'm your brother, you idiot. Canada! Matthew Williams!"

He's staring at me in shock. "I don't bel-"

I punch him in the face.

"I've decided. I do hate you. Now if you excuse me, I think I'm gonna go die now."

I walk purposely down the halls until I find a restroom. Once there, I take out the blade of my sharpener, rest it against my wrist, and....

Bam!

The door to the restroom burst open. There stood papa, Miss Hungary, and Cuba.

"Matthieu! Non!"

I give them I small smile.

Then I slit my wrist.

"Je t'aime." I whisper as I fall to the floor. "He t'aime."

The last thing I see before I pass out is the panicked face papa.