Sorry, it's been forever. I worked the long shift the past week and this weekend we stayed open late because of the heatwave. I was outside in 104 degree weather for SEVEN HOURS, and honestly, I was just so freaking exhausted. Not to mention that on Saturday there was a car accident so I had to take an HOUR AND A FUCKING HALF DETOUR to drive my brother's girlfriend to work! (Side note that my brother's girlfriend knew the boy in the accident, who is now fighting for his life because he was on a motorcycle and collided with a car) Also, my college work has been stressful since my financial aid forms still haven't been approved and the deadline is next week. My broke ass can't afford 2,000 dollars for courses, PLUS supplies like books and shit... So, yea... Pretty busy week...

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING!!! SELF HARM, EATING DISORDERS, TRAUMATIC EVENTS

____________________________________________________________

Morning finally rolled around, some of the nations having gotten no sleep. England and France had red, puffy eyes from crying, and neither of them groomed themselves. France didn't bother combing his hair and hardly ate his breakfast. The same was said for Canada, Finland, and Russia. None of them had an appetite after reading last night's final entry. The only ones that seemed ok were Germany and China, but even they were internally screaming. They all ate in complete silence, no one had spoken once. They were all terrified, they were scared to read any more. Canada teared up and was embraced by Prussia. Prussia was also crying a tiny bit, he hated that Alfred felt the need to hide such pain. He's been through tyranny from his own government, after all, he was albino and left-handed. But never had he known the betrayal and fear Alfred felt, a boy who was centuries younger than him. The chores were done in silence as well, and finally, everyone had gathered in the meeting hall. Finally, a voice.

"Who will read today, aru?" China asked, his voice a little hoarse. He knew Alfred's pain of a family member's betrayal, but China felt sympathy towards Alfred. He was a mere child in the eyes of many nations, yet he suffered so much pain. What else had this boy done for them? Why would he do this? What other secrets is he hiding?

All those questions soon would be answered.

"Vell, I guess I could read. Any objections?" Germany asked as he grasped the thick book. Everybody shook their heads absently. Everyone's mind had the same question.

How much longer must we suffer here before we can fix him?

"Germany, mon ami, please just read" France replied, fixing the messy blonde mop of hair on his head. He regretted not grooming it, but he was too tired to care about his looks. He just wanted this to end, he wanted to know what else Alfred had hidden from him. France was a very protective father over Canada, yet paid zero attention to Alfred. He insulted him, criticized him, at one point even loathed him. Alfred always smiled, he was always so happy. A memory flooded the Frenchman, something that he now regrets.

"America you selfish brat! How could you not 'elp me?! Even after I aided jou for jour independence! Are jou zat conceded?!"

"Francis, I can't! I'm still yo-"

"Save it! I do not want to 'ear jou!" France turned his back to America and began to storm off when America caught his sleeve.

"Papa listen to me! My country is still young and my government is still trying to figure things out! You know I care about you and that I will always support you! But right now it's just hard! Please just try to find a slither of reason papa!" France pushed America back into a wall, a deadly glare in his eyes.

"Do not call me zat. I am France, jou 'ave no right to call me 'papa' Consider our alliance and family broken. Jou pathetic, selfish, ignorant child!" France stormed out and slammed the door. He never looked back, but if he did he would have seen the honest look of hurt in his son's broken and bleak blue eyes. The eyes that dulled the moment France disowned him and tore him out of the family he always loved.

France wiped his tears, he remembered how short he was. He was loud, angry, resentful, and blinded by his own pain. He regretted it the moment he stepped onto his shores. But he didn't care, he fought in his revolution alone. It was until the bitter end and Francis held his grudge. He received gifts and letters from Alfred but discarded all of them. He didn't want Alfred around. Until America actually visited France, and stopped him from jumping off a building. He was still bitter towards Alfred, despite Alfred trying his best to make amends. He was cooking for him, grooming and bathing him, patching his wounds when they appeared, even entertaining him. But France never smiled at him, and continuously spat insults at the young nation. Nothing Alfred did was good enough. But when Alfred finally left, France realized that Alfred was the only one he had. He still did not apologize and didn't even speak to America until the first World War.

Germany cleared his throat and opened the book. He looked at the title of the chapter, and began to shake. He threw the book across the table, "Nein, I do not vant to. Nevermind," the book landed in front of China, who saw the title. A tear fell from his eyes and onto the book. He picked up the book with shaking arms, containing himself. The forbidden topic among nations was finally coming to life. The topic that was never to be brought up, scars.

"Twelve. His Scars. America is known widely around the globe for his famous smile, his boisterous laugh, and childish behavior. They all assume the same thing, that he is just naturally happy and doesn't have a worry in the world. But, they are wrong. So very wrong. America has dealt with most of his issues alone, and in his mind, it has to be that way. Alfred's hero complex makes it impossible to ask for help, as he doesn't want to drag anyone into his problems. In his mind, if he asks for help, he's being troublesome. Here is an entry from his diary, from the time of the Great Depression.

'The stock crashed, and the other nations are angry at me. It's not like I blame them, I did fuck up. But once I figure out the cause, I'm sure I can fix it. I haven't slept in 72 hours, and I really don't eat much. I've been consumed with finding a solution. Gilbert, Matthias, Ivan, Mattie, and Toris are getting worried. But, I can't tell them why I'm not eating. I can't burden them, I can't burden anyone after what happened. I've suffered alone before, and I can do it again. The hero doesn't drag down his friends, he lifts them higher. So what I don't eat, I could lose a few pounds anyway. If it keeps me from being a nuisance than that's just a perk'

He did suffer alone for the most part, but some occasions would be forced to eat by Ivan, Gilbert, or Mattie. Alfred's mindset still hadn't changed. He felt he deserved the pain he caused himself, but soon enough the starving and purging weren't enough. Alfred soon became numb to the pain of being a skeleton and was trying to find ways to harm himself. Then he discovered the method he uses to this day, cutting"

"Stop! Stop it! I do not want to read anymore! I do not want to 'ear it!" France shook his head and covered his ears. He was sobbing and shaking, trying so hard not to pass out. China looked around and found everyone sobbing, including himself. They all remembered meetings, where they insulted him. They all saw him shake off every hurtful phrase and hurtful name, laugh and brush it off like it was just a spec of sand on his shoulder. But soon enough, a grain of sand turns into a dune to swallow you whole.

"After every meeting during the Great Depression, Alfred would go somewhere private and put a cut on his arm for every insult he heard. Some of the insults went as followed: Fat, Stupid, Trashy, Nuisance, Putrid, Immature, Pathetic, Weak, Selfish, Ignorant, Childish, Sloppy. A Joke, A Bitch, A Nothing, A Worthless Excuse for a Nation. The insults swirled in his mind, and even after the depression was over he was conditioned to think they were true. Alfred's mind constantly tells him these things, and Alfred still to this day cuts his arms after meetings. It became so routine to him that he doesn't always wait. He conceals his arms almost all the time, and when he needs to be sleeveless he will conceal his scars with magic. The magic is so strong that the spell never really fades, which would explain why no one has seen the scars that ripple down his arm. America still has eating disorders, but he has been getting better after Russia and he got married.

Alfred's scars aren't fully from self harm. Some of them are from wars, attacks, and sacrifices he has made. One scar Alfred has is a deep gash running from his right pec to his left hip. He received this gash during the Second World War when British troops had captured the Italies. Even though the general was told by American generals to wait for Arthur to decide punishment methods, he decided to go against them. Alfred was fortunately at the base and walking passed the room where the Italies were being kept. Alfred had been the one to order the generals around, thus knew the Italies should be alone. Wanting to talk to them, he stepped into the cell to witness the British man quickly snatching a whip. Alfred quickly stepped in front of the two nations, taking the full gash. Alfred was furious at the general for disobeying not only his orders but the orders of his military. After Alfred dismissed the general, he simply treated his own wound and helped the Italies be more comfortable until Arthur arrived"

"That wanker! I would have torn that general a brand new arse hole! Do either of you remember his name?" England asked, looking at the Italies. They were both lost in the memory, but still were coherent enough to answer the Brit's question. They both shook their heads, and England was seeing red. China continued.

"Another scar America has is over his heart. It's a deep burn scar from 1814 when England burnt America's capital to the ground. The scar healed over time, only to be reopened when 9/11 happened. The scar always aches on the anniversary of both events, and Alfred feels so sick that he just stays in bed.

Speaking of 9/11, there are other scars from that tragic day. America also has two crossed gashes across his chest from the towers and a gash from his front shoulder to his back rotary cuff from the plane in PA. He also has small scars from the rubble that fell on him when he towers collapsed and still gets migraines and fevers on the anniversary from the severe concussion he received.

Scars litter America's toned body from all sorts of things. The Boston Bombing left a gash on his abdomen, right next to the one for the Boston Massacre (which basically was the kickstart to the revolution). Anytime a school is shot up with major fatalities (a few examples being Parkland High School, Virginia Tech, and Sandy Hook Elementary who all had death tolls above 15) America receives a piercing ear-splitting migraine and a small gash on his side. Even down to the fact that gangs have shoot outs every day, America receives small scratches on his lower back right above his car crash scar.

America's body is a work of art telling so many sad truths, stories to which I can not explain. You nations must be warned. The end is coming fast, so I suggest you read quickly.

Your hero is in need"

A loud plop was heard, and China looked up. France had fainted, and England was right by his side. France woke up not even a few seconds later and began to sob. Finland felt every ounce of his heart tear to bits. Sweden was just trying to stop the tears that flowed from his cheeks but couldn't. The Baltics were crying, especially Lithuania. Matthew, Kiku, Matthias, Gilbert, and Lovino were just crying in one large huddle. Spain was just spaced out, but also angry. He was angry that he hurt Alfred. Germany and Italy were cradling each other, and Germany just had a distant look in his eyes. Ukraine was too busy trying to calm down a hysterical Belarus she didn't even notice Russia was gone. China shot out of his chair when he heard a loud bang. He ran from the room, bolting from corridor to corridor. He finally came to the large doors which were the exit. He saw the angry and emotional Russia trying to pry open the large oak doors.

"Let me out of this hell hole! I have to see him! I have to see me Fredka! My sunflower needs me dammit! I have to go to him! Please let me out! Please let me leave! Please, please, please!" Russia was banging hysterically on the doors, only to be stopped by China.

"We are almost done aru! The book said so! We have to return to the room now, aru!" China pulled back the Russian, who was still in tears. How much longer would it take? How much will they find out? When will they leave?

What's in Alfred's core?