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England’s POV:
I was walking through an ally using it as a short-cut to get to the meeting place, it being held in America this month. It was abandoned and disgusting there, but it was the fastest way and I was already late. The perfect scones don’t take ten minutes to bake, you know. It was getting late, shadows were growing from every angle and the street lights in the distance were starting to turn on. I was walking past a huge pile of trash (gross!) when I heard a soft moan. I looked around, not seeing anybody, and started to walk again. But before I could take even three steps, I heard another, more painful moan.
“Hey.” A mysterious voice said. It sounded like a young girl voice. I looked at the direction I heard the voice from, and I could barely make out a human shape. It was a girl, lying on the trash pile.
“Kill me.” She said.
“What?” I asked, astonished a little girl would say that.
“Kill me. I can’t move. I’m sick. I have *cough* nowhere to live. You kill me, no one will ever know *cough* and I don’t have to suffer. *cough**cough**wheeze* Please.”
I walked towards her, and from the faint light of the moon, I could make out horrifying cuts and bruises. Some were from long ago, while some were fresh. She was covered in dirt from head to toe. The only thing she had on was a trash bag that went down to her mid-thighs and the draw string was tied around her bleeding chest. Her eyes were a dull (e/c), her eyelids black and blue. Just the look of her made me want to throw up, but I had to help her. I picked her up bridal style and ran towards the meeting place. The meeting was being held at a hotel this year, and we all had a room there. The actual meeting will be held in one of the ballrooms. I ran into the building and up to my room. I set the girl down on the couch and went into the bathroom and started to run a bath.
‘Since she is covered in grime and her cuts need to be washed out, a bath will do the trick’ I thought to myself.
Your POV:
You looked around at the new surroundings. You have never been inside a building before, much less one this fancy. It was hard to stay awake, your head getting dizzy and your eyesight was getting blurry. The man that brought you inside came out of one of the rooms and looked at you with pure pity and hurt. Now that there were lights, he could see you perfectly. You looked worse than when he saw you in the dark. Your cheeks were deep red and you were deathly pale from you fever and cold. Mud and dirt covered you and made most of your cuts and gashes green with infection. Dried and fresh blood covered your arms, legs, face, and chest. Your hair color wasn’t even recognizable anymore because of the trash, blood, and grime. You were so thin, that you literally looked like a skeleton.
The man came over to you and picked you up, taking you over to the room he just left. Inside, there was a chair-like thing that was white and had a lid, a bowl connected to the bright, white wall that had a pipe connected to it, and a huge tub that was being filled with clear liquid. You had never seen these items before in your life. You have been living in that alley since you could remember. Your parents died after they were so poor that they had to steel from a store, and some wacko thought he could stop them with a gun. You were about five then, and since then you have been living on your own. Other people took refuge in the same alley, but they never showed you any kindness. Instead, they abused you, taking what you had and beating you up until you blacked out from the pain and loss of blood. You tried to scrounge for food and other necessities by begging on the side of the nearest busy street, but the other men that lived near you would always beet everything out of you. Food, water, money, even clothes were taken away from you. Today, they had the brilliant idea of beating you up so bad you couldn’t move and threw you into the trash pile, where a truck would come and collect you, crushing you along with the trash until you were nothing more than a mushed up corpse.
The man took off your only clothing and set you in the tub. Instantly, the clear, sparkling liquid (you concluded that it was fresh water) turned a mix of red and deep brown. The man then drained the tub and started another one. He rubbed a pink colored cube on you, and bubbles started forming, taking the dirt off until you could actually see your pale skin. He then squirted some blue liquid onto your head and massaged it. More bubbles formed, making your hair turn white. He then took a small bucket and filled it up with the water, and poured it over your head. The bubbles came off, and you could finally see your (h/l) (h/c) hair. He repeated the process until all of the dirt and blood was gone. He then took a rough looking blanket and started to rub you with it until you were dry. He covered you with the blanket and carried you into the other room, where he set you down on the weird looking bed again. He walked into a corner and opened case filled with clothing and other items. He closed it and walked up to you, taking the blanket off and putting a long shirt onto you. He then took the blanket and put it back in the white room, coming back with a soft looking blanket instead. He put the blanket on you and set a plush cube behind your newly cleaned head. Once he looked at you with a satisfied look on his face, he then took out some sort of technology and put it up to his ear.
“Hello? Germany? I don’t think I can make the meeting. No, I am not sick, but I found this girl out in an alley outside and took her in for some treatment. She looked like she was about to die. She is trying to sleep on the couch right now. *pause* Yes, Italy, you all can come up. But be quiet, especially you, America! (pause) Yes, room 237 on the third floor to the left. Thank you, god bye.”
After he talked to the contraption, he closed it and put it back into his shirt pocket.
“Are you hungry?” asked the man.
“Very.” You replied before another coughing fit hit you.
He nodded and walked into another room that to you looked like the kitchen to a restaurant. You know, because once, you lived in the back of one, eating whatever you could from the trash bin. You didn’t stay long, though, before they told you to scram and kicked you out. The one the man walked into was smaller, with no cooks or a screaming manager telling his employees to step on it and to cook faster. He took out a can of some sort and poured its contents into a small bowl that was made of metal and had a handle. He then placed it onto a table like thing and turned a dial. The spot he placed the bowl turned red. The smell of the food overwhelmed you, and soon you noticed some drool dripping from the sides of your mouth. After about ten minutes, he took the bowl and poured the contents into another bowl, putting a spoon into it. He turned the dial above the black table thing again, and the red spot faded away. He walked up to you and handed you the bowl.
“You look confused. It’s soup. Do you like soup?” he asked you.
“I have never had soup before. How do I eat it?” you asked him.
“You never had soup before?! Well, you take the spoon, put it into the soup, and then put it into your mouth.” He answered.
You took the spoon, filled it with the golden liquid, and put it into your mouth. Just then, your eyes lit up. ‘This is the best thing I have ever had!’ you thought to yourself as you repeated the instructions again and again, until the bowl was completely empty. You felt much better; your stomach being so full that you thought it grew from its first miniscule size. You felt all warm inside from the hotness of the soup.
The man looked down, and seeing that you finished it all, took the bowl put it into another large bowl looking thing with the pipes pouring water into the empty bowl. He walked back and sat on the comfy bed thing.
“I cannot believe I did not ask you sooner, but what is your name?”
You thought the word over. You have never been assigned a ‘name’ before.
“What’s a ‘name’?” you asked, looking confused.
“Oh, a name is something people call you. My name is England, or Arthur, Arthur Kirkland. You may call me either.”
“Oh, I think my parents called me (f/n), but I faintly remember it. It was so long ago.” You replied, looking down, remembering your parents before their death.
“Where are your parents?” England asked.
“They were murdered in front of my very eyes from stealing some bread. Some guy killed them with a gun. We didn’t have any money. We never lived like the other families.” You said.
Since you have lived on the streets and had to be strong both mentally and physically, you never cried. But England had saved you. He had the heart to help you and take you in, dress you, and feed you without even asking anything in return. He didn’t hurt you, or spit at you, or call you all those horrible words that you never knew the meanings to. You felt like you could trust him. Talking about your parents in front of him, and not even having to protect yourself from anything, you started to cry. You cried for the first time in years. Tears fell from your eyes, making your cheeks glisten from the salty water. You had the strength to sit up and hold onto his arm. England wrapped an arm around you, and held you close. He petted your now soft hair, softly shushing you.
“There, there love. Shh. Shh.” He said.
Just then, the door swung open, a bunch of other men came inside.
For this fan fiction, I will be writing the disclaimer down here instead of in the actual text. So, England, do the disclaimer!
England: Greekgeek1213 does not own Hetalia, you, or anything except for the plot. And why is the meeting in America?! It should have been in my country!
GG1213: Because I live in America and know more about it. Also, if you were in England, then you would have fed our reader scones instead of soup and made her even more sick, and even closer to death!
England: Hey, my scones are not that bad!
GG1213: While I explain to Iggy here that his scones ARE that bad, enjoy reading!
Next chapter:…
Add a Comment:
Olympia7 Featured By Owner Dec 17, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
england the kindest man on earth
No1sp3cial Featured By Owner Oct 13, 2015
Man I don't know how it feels to be abused but I know what it feels like to get bullied and betrayed by family... I also know the feeling of being homeless and no where to go.. lyfe sucks
thepokemongeek Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2015
And the undead!
Your0Average0Baka Featured By Owner Aug 5, 2015  Hobbyist Artist
Tell Iggy, his scones kill the unborn.
Zombiecupcake23 Featured By Owner Apr 14, 2015
I am not abused I just likes the drama :3
bigthinkz546 Featured By Owner Edited Mar 31, 2015
Me: W-who are you guys?
Gilbert: Kesesesese~Who's the hot lady~?
DownShiftPlus Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Iggy: 0-0
Everyone else: H-huh?
Italy: Ve~! I-a like her!!
creativehelper14 Featured By Owner Dec 28, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
IketheCOOL Featured By Owner Apr 17, 2014
*looks at description* LINKS!!!! YS!!! YEAS!!!! FINALLY IN LIKE 5 MINUTES, THERE ARE LINKS!!!
Savanime19 Featured By Owner Feb 22, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
FREE Starfire emoticon This is so touching~!
Warriorcatgrl99 Featured By Owner Feb 22, 2014   General Artist

But I like Iggy's scones oAo


GREAT story~ When do you think you'll have chapter 2 up~?

badassgermanchick Featured By Owner Feb 22, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
this is great !
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Submitted on
February 22, 2014


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