Author's note: I don't own Hetalia. I know, I already did a fic for 9 11, but I had to do another one, a better one. I think I'll do one fore Poland as well. What do you think?
The Day America Cried
Hello, my name is Alfred F. Jones. This story is a story of death. It is about 9 11, one of the worst days in American history. I can never forget that day, for I am the United States of America, and I felt the pain. I felt the death. I know.
I sat in New York's living room. Not far from the twin towers. She was making us coffee.
"Rachel, are you sure you're alright?" I asked. We both had felt like this would be a bad day. But we thought it would just be, oh I can't get a cap and I'm stuff in the rain type of bad day.
Rachel nodded as she set the coffee down. It was early, about seven. We talked, me mostly, about things. Soon, we went out for some New York air. It was eight fifty two.
We where close enough to see it, the first plane crash into the south tower. We both felt the pain. It was in my left eye, and Rachel felt the pain in her head, New York was her brain, Albany her heart. Then, when the second tower fell, more pain. I could fell the pain of the American people. New York could fell the pain of her New Yorkers.
When the plane hit the Pentagon, it sent a stab in my heart. Thank God it wasn't the White house, or I would have been in even more pain.
I could fell it in Pennslvania too. I prayed that he was alright.
I felt like crying. One more scar to add to my body. More deaths to deal with. I'm the hero, but yet I can't save everyone. That day, along with other days, I cried with every American, I cried. The Day America Cried.