PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU BEGIN!
I approach the subject of Bulimic!America with a great deal of caution. As a person who's struggled with bulimia for quite a while now, I decided I could do an accurate portrayal of the illness. But beyond that- America's thoughts and feelings are largely based on my own experience with certain family members. Both the disorder and its side effects shall be described in rather graphic detail later on, and are not for the fainthearted. That being said, this will also contain Yaoi and sexual encounters of the US/UK sort. IF YOU FIND ANY OF THE ABOVE UNCOMFORTABLE OR OFFENSIVE, please do not read any further. Also, please do not flame if you don't like Hetalia Darkfic. Thanks. for those who wish to continue, please enjoy the ride :D
Darkfic is read.
It makes you blue.
I don't own Hetalia.
I hate Mary Sue ^^
"Still eating the junk food, fatso?"
"Looks like you put on a couple extra pounds, fatty."
Why? Why did Britain keep hurting him like that?
Though no physical blows were struck against him, Britain's wickedly sharp tongue did more damage than his fists could have. (His words hurt worse than he realized. Cut deeper than he noticed.)
Dozens upon dozens of empty bags and boxes littered America's houses, torn open in a violent rage, their contents consumed in haste. (All of them America's favorites- doughnuts, hamburgers, and candy- but he ate them so fast he didn't even taste it.) Empty cans of soda covered the coffee table in the living room, aluminum crushed and useless.
The bathroom door was closed and locked, the faucet running to obscure any sound. Still, the muffled sound of gagging and coughing could be heard from inside the bathroom.
America was bent over the toilet, gagging one final time, emptying the last of the contents of his stomach.
(He'd eaten so much that he literally felt sick. It didn't matter- he would have thrown it all up anyway.)
Britain, why do you do this to me?
(America had traded one form of bondage for another…this one far more sinister…more dangerous.)
All I want to do…is be beautiful…for you.
He knows it's a stupid though. To be beautiful…he shouldn't be so vain. He knows that. But he is. He wants to be beautiful.
But more than that, he wants control. He wants to show Britain that it is he, America, who had control over his life. (though he knows, deep down, that this…thing inside him is truly the one in control, now. This compulsion had enslaved him.)
("Why? Why? It's not fair..."
"...You know why."
If only this had such an easy answer.)
The things you do to me...
...I'm going to fall apart.
Cherries are red
Oceans are blue
Please be so kind
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