America's POV:

"America! America, are you okay?!" Rhode Island screeched when Lithuania and I entered my home, our faces solemn. Rhode Island looked up at me questioningly, his head slightly tilted to the side. I tried to smile at him, but I couldn't. It was too hard.

"Where's Alaska?" he asked quietly. He peeked around behind me, as if he expected Alaska to be hiding there. I bit my lip and resisted the urge to cry, getting on my knees so that I was level with Rhode Island's vision.

"He's gone. He died in the hospital," I said quietly. Rhode Island shook his head, tears beginning to stream down his face. I tried to hug him but he wrenched away.

"Y-you're lying! Alaska can't be dead! You're lying!" he sobbed, running off to his room. I started to go after him, but Lithuania placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. He shook his head slowly.

"Just...just give him some time," he said softly, giving me a small smile. I swallowed and nodded, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. Lithuania squeezed my shoulder and went into the kitchen to start cooking dinner. Shakily, I made my way to my room and collapsed onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks, dampening my sheets. My body shook as I began to sob quietly, gripping my blankets tightly in my hands.

"America?" a voice said softly. I sat bolt upright, staring at the doorway. Delaware gazed back at me blankly, his young face filled with grief, making him look older.

"Is it true? Is Alaska..." the oldest state's voice broke and he looked down at his feet, his brown hair falling in front of his face. I nodded, also looking down at my feet. Delaware gritted his teeth and buried his head in his hands. Tears leaked through his fingers and fell to the floor.

"I was a terrible older brother. I was so awful to him, just because he was different. We all were," Delaware said softly, still not looking up at me. My eyes widened in shock and I jumped up, wrapping my arms around my younger brother, hugging him close. Delaware hugged me back, resting his head on my shoulder.

"Who did it? Who killed him?!" Delaware growled, his grip on me tightening. He looked up at me, a determined and loathing glint in his eyes. I flinched, not wanting to tell him, but I knew it couldn't be helped.

"Syria, Russia, and...and...Canada," I said, biting my lip. The anger in Delaware's eyes quickly changed to shock, then horror, and back to anger again. He wrenched out of my grip, sprinting out of the room and towards the front door.

"Delaware! Delaware, wait!" I shouted, running after him. He flung the door open and ran out into the rainy night, nearly slipping on the concrete steps as he went. I ran after him, chasing him as he sprinted down the streets. He began to slow down and then fell to his hands and knees, sobbing.

I stood silently, keeping my distance from the distraught state. Turning around, I ran back into the house, tears streaming down my face. I went into my room and slammed the door shut, locking it. I reached under my pillow and grabbed my razor, my knuckles white as I gripped it tightly. I had failed too many times, and I couldn't stand it anymore!

Making a few cuts in my forearms first, I lowered the blade toward my wrist. Taking a slow breath, I made deep, ragged slices in my wrists. Blood seeped out of my wounds, pooling around me. My vision began to fade slightly, black framing it. I collapsed to the ground, my conciousness slowly leaving me. Just before I passed out, I saw that I was flickering in and out of view. I was fading. I smiled softly and closed my eyes. It was finally over. No more pain. No more suffering. No more insults from people who should've been caring about me. Finally, I would have peace.