AN: Heyo, my creatures! I have finally written a Hetalia fic! Now I'm starting to delve into my dark side... My alter ego would like a word...

Alter: Hello, I am the reason why Leppy is NOT allowed to type in the middle of the night. She can come up with dark, twisted stories. Enjoy, my savages

Why could no one see me? I asked myself that everyday, many more times than I could count. Well, people could see me sometimes, but that was very rare. What did I do to deserve this? No one likes to be ignored, constantly, every single day of your life!


Was it because I was too quiet? I know I don't say much, but every one else is so loud. I feel like I'm drowning in all of the noise. Besides, if I spoke, it's not like any one would listen. They would just talk over me. If someone actually heard me, I can't even respond, I'm so shy. But I can change that! Maybe I could be louder, maybe...


Was it because I'm to polite? I never interrupt anyone. I never speak out of place. I just let people push me around. I let them hurt me for no reason. But I could change that! Maybe I could be more like America, maybe...


Was it because I was a freak? I'm the quiet country. The one that doesn't like fighting. The one that is scared of intimacy. No other countries are like that. But I could change that! Maybe, I could pretend to like other things, to be less of a freak, maybe...


No one saw me. 'No one cares to see me.' I realised, horribly. 'No one wants to see me.'


It would be better if no one saw me


It wouldn't matter


No one would care


No one would notice


No one would even see


Red blood streamed from the ten new cuts on my arm. It dribbled down and landed on the carpet, a constant pattern symbolising my pain.


They slashed across previous scars, some almost completely faded and some that were still red. It wasn't the first time he had ever done this, after all.


'If I let the blood flow, I would just die. I wonder if anyone, anyone at all, would remember me and come check.' I thought idly.


Then red hot anger filled me. I was right, no one would see if I died here. No one would know! 'Well, I'll make them see!' I thought determinedly, wrapping my arm quickly in some bandages that I had strewn across the table. I packed a few things in my pockets that I would need for the meeting and started to run. I left Kuma here, I didn't want the bear to see what I was about to do.

Hopefully, no one would forget this meeting for a long time.

"Okay guys," America began, "this is what we'll do. I'll be the hero, of course, and England can be my sidekick! He can feed them his stupid scones and they'll get stomach damage. Or better yet, he can through the scones at them as missiles. They're hard enough!"

"How dare you!" England declared. "Those scones are great! Ask anyone!"

Everyone around the room mumbled in disagreement.

"See!" America announced. "Everyone thinks your cooking sucks!"

"Well, it's not like you asked me!"

The room fell silent. They all stared at the door where Canada was leaning against. There was something they didn't like about his expression. It seemed rather... dark. But what scared them more was the bandages wrapped around Canada's arm. It was stained red with blood, so much so that there was hardly any white left.

"Oh, hey bro," America said somewhat awkwardly. "You're right, I didn't ask. What do you think about England's cooking? And, uh, your arm-"

"It doesn't matter!" Canada snapped. "Besides, it's not like you would listen. You never listen! You never even see me!" He stormed past America and climbed up onto the table, standing tall on it.

"Well? Do you see me now!?" He demanded. "England? Do you finally recognise me?"

"Canada, bro. Calm down, we-"

"What about you, France?" Canada interupted.

"Of course I see you, my little Canada."

"No! NO! I am NOT 'your little Canada', okay!?" Canada screamed, he could feel tears running down his face. "No one can see me! You all ignore me, you all hate me!" He gave a slightly maniacal laugh and said "After all, out of sight, out of mind, right!?" He laughed some more.

'Okay, things are getting really bad.' England thought worriedly. 'He's going hysterical!'

"I'll make sure that you all will remember me!" America jumped onto the table to tackle Canada. But before he could, Canada pulled a deadly looking carving knife from his pocket.

"What are you doing with a knife!? Never mind, just put it down, slowly." America held his arms up in a placating guesture.

"No!" Canada's sobs slowed, until they were just whimpers. "I...I don't want to be alone anymore. I don't want to be ignored." After saying this, he turned the knife and plunged it deep into his stomach.

America's cry was the last thing he remembered.

AN: Well, my creatures, what shall happen in the next chapter? Will the Canada die, or will he live? Will the others mourn at his funeral, or will they help him recover both physically and emotionally in the hospital? Well, it is all up to you. Let me know if you would like to see how this continues... Farewell, my creatures.