The Hero, Depressed?

Chapter 2: *One more time*

((HEY!!!!! What's up!? It's been a while. Sorry, between school, family and friends and other things, being a Junior in High school is rough.... But I'm 1/4 half way through Chapter 3 and have a idea what's going to happen in coming up chapters(4 and 5)...... And yeahhhhhh- This chapter is graphic and detailed in bad ways cause, I love details~ ANYWAYS!!!!!! I hope you like it, sorry if my spelling, grammar and punctuation is just... terrible, but Please Enjoy~))

Another normal day during the World meeting with everyone off topic and on their own thing with the bright blond trying to be the hero but instead, he watched everyone and laughed.

When the meeting came to a untimely close, before anyone could move, America skipped up to Japan. "Hey dude! Since you're done with England, do you wanna come over and hang out?" America practically spit out, he was just to happy to know that there was a bigger chance that him and Japan were maybe able to spend time with each other at his house tonight.

Japan looked up at America with a pained expression. "No.... I'm sorry. Pochi-kun has been feeling sick since last night when I got home from England-san's house and I must tend to him before he gets worse." Japan explains simply to let America down gently, hopefully for the last time this week.

America frowns and walks away. "Oh... Alright."

Japan quietly called out. "Again, I'm sorry."

America ignored him and walked up to Canada. His frown turning neutral as he started. "Canada, need help today?" America asked.

Canada looked up from his papers. "Ahhh- no... Me and France aren't getting any big boxes of produce till next week. Maybe you can help us then?" Canada sounded hopeful with a small smile.

America nodded. "Okay then." America whispered before turning his back on his twin to look around to met England's green chilling, evil gaze.

He's still mad.... I'll try to talk and make friends tomorrow. America thoughts wondered for a moment as he looked around to see no one else he wanted to ask so, with a internal sigh, he gathered his things and left without another word which was really weird to the Countries cause usually, America would shout something like 'The hero is leaving the building!' or 'SEE YA'LL LATER!' or something like that....

A couple of Countries watched as the, once, over static American left to his car with a quite serious face and blank dull eyes.

When America got in and started the car, he left and drove home with no one stopping him or lifting a finger, of course they suspected that he wasn't going to do anything except go home, watch TV or read comic books with Tony and eat dinner then go to sleep.

But no...

Not today

When America got home, he walked in to his dark, cold house and took a shaky breath and broke down. "Damn it!" He hissed as he pressed his back against the door and covered his face with his hands.

"Nyaow!?" Americat came rushing in to hear his masters cry.

After he calmed down slightly, a little voice spoke.

Let's go... Last time, maybe more? It spoke softly. That's when America got up and went straight to the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the light. Americat tried to stop him by standing infront of him and meowing loudly to get his attention but America just stepped over and acting like he didn't see or hear him.

America sat down on the edge of the tub, his breathing ragged and torn, just like his emotions. "Just once more... Just once." He whispered to himself, but he didn't really believe those words. He knew no matter, if he swore he'd never do it again, he knew deep down he would.

Sometimes he could almost imagine never doing it again, on a good day. But on bad days, like today, he never wanted to give up cutting himself, It was his release-his savior-from his true emotions. He pulled out the blade, and looked at the shine of the silver metal. He took off his bombers jacket and set it aside, so he wouldn't dirty it, and pulled up his sleeve, exposing the heavily scarred skin underneath, as well as the healing cuts from times previous. He always wore his jacket to hide the marks of his depression. He didn't hesitate before setting the blade to his skin and digging it in, ripping it across the flesh.

After a few slow seconds, blood began to bead up on his skin. "Just once." He said as he watched the blood begin to make a trail down his pale arm. He began slicing more marks, deeper and longer than the first. He didn't stop until his arm was covered in lines from wrist to elbow.

Once he was finished, he shakily set the bloodied blade down on the counter, a bit weak from blood loss already. Blood had dripped on the floor, forming puddles underneath his arm. He wanted to just watch the blood flow, watch it drip and make puddles and slowly stop, the blood becoming dry and flaky, but he retrieved the ACE bandages he had on hand and wrapped his arm tightly to stop the blood. He felt groggy and tired now from blood loss, but he managed to stay awake. With the addicting adrenaline flooding his body, and into the blood leaking into the bandages, He cleaned up the floor and made sure there was no other evidence (he'd hidden his blade) before flicking off the light and stumbling out of the bathroom.

Slowly, he made his way to his couch, plopping down and looking around the living room, his whole body numb at the moment. The high still flowing but gradually he came down and back to reality and the first person he was greeted by was by a pissed and angry Americat.

For a moment they just looked at each other, Americat eyes blazing with fury. When neither spoke, America opened his mouth to talk but was cut off with a low growl from Americat's chest.

"Okay! Yes, I know I promised you and Tony that I wouldn't but.... I had too." America whined quietly.

Americat hissed and continued to growl before he got off of America and disappearing in to the dark house. With one more sigh, America took off his glasses and laid on the couch, his pale face and dull eyes standing out, like a ghost, in the darkness.

America closed his eyes but his arm kept him awake, the pain now throbbing and pulsing throughout his body but he enjoyed it and that familiar feeling is what he fell asleep to... like old times.