So for those of you who skipped Chapter Nine and Chapter Eleven, I'm going to add in a hotline for you men and women who may have been sexually assaulted.

Hotline: https://www.rainn.org.

I just want you all to know from the bottom of my heart that you are all gorgeous and beautiful people, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise or take advantage of you, okay?

This hotline will always be here for you to use. :)

God bless you all, and enjoy the rest of my story, okay? ^^

Love you all my peeps 😘😘😘

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Britain fell to the floor, his head spinning.

He saw Kalda's blurry image, but even opening his eyes to simply look at her seemed like a hard task.

Kalda didn't say anything as she turned her back on Britain, giving him the silent treatment.

Kalda didn't even bother to help him stand up, either, for she was still upset about the newspaper article.

She sat down at the table, and Britain clutched the closest chair to help himself stand up.

He saw her face more clearly now, Kalda's sapphire blue and white makeup still on her face.

Britain touched his own face and body, noticing that he still had his mask and costume on from the night before.

He felt weak and out of breath, and he couldn't even process anything at the moment.

Kalda just sighed in annoyance, but to his ears, her annoyed sigh didn't sounded human.

She wasn't speaking at all, and Britain could tell by her aura that she was purposely giving him the silent treatment.

What did I do to make her so mad at me? he wondered in confusion. And why do I feel so dizzy and sick?

"H-hello," Britain stammered out, wanting to get a normal conversation going. "Good morning, Kalda."

"About time you showed up," Kalda snapped at him, an unpleasant look on her face. "I have something to show you."

Britain was happy that Kalda was speaking to him, but he would have much rather heard more pleasant words from her.

Before he could even respond, Kalda shoved the newspaper into his face.

He took the paper into his hands, seeing the headline:

"BRITAIN UND JANE SITTING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Britain was confused, so he read on.

"Eighteen year old girl getting Britain's love at America's Halloveen Party, October 31st."

He felt his cheeks burn as he continued to read more of the article.

"Sleepy time already, Britain? I zhought zhat you vould be smarter zhan zhat!"

Britain gasped, and almost screamed, seeing a picture of him hugging Kalda close to his chest in his bed.

The look on Kalda's face was one of horror, and even in the picture her tear-stained face was saddening.

His stomach clenched as he saw the look on his face, a look of lust and carelessness.

Britain looked at Kalda, and noticed that the unpleasant look on her face hadn't disappeared.

Her makeup made her look even scarier, and he could see the tear stains from where her makeup once was.

Britain looked back at the picture and he almost vomited because he was so horrified.

He saw that the article was written and published by none other than one Prussia/Gilbert Beilschmidt, and that made Britain's blood boil.

Why, that nasty, idiotic, perverted, son of a-

"Like what you see?" Kalda sneered, already knowing Britain's answer. "I guess this was your plan all along, huh? Now you'll leave me to find the next girl, right?"

Britain slowly and sadly put his forehead on top of the table, not quite sure how to feel.

Guilty?

Angry?

Sad?

Tired?

Weak?

Hot?

Cold?

Ashamed?

Britain actually did feel ashamed, and he now saw why Kalda hated him.

He looked up at her, untying his mask as he stared into her beautiful and angry brown eyes.

"You have every right to be angry with me," Britain told her honestly. "I...I have no words or apology that will make this disappear."

He swallowed, his throat dry as a desert.

"Or to make you feel better or for you to forgive me," he quickly added on. "If you don't forgive me at all, I won't care because I deserve every piece of anger that you have towards me."

There was silence, so he felt the need to continue speaking.

"What I did last night, according to this article, which is also something that I sadly can't remember, was wrong and a complete violation of you as a woman," he admitted. "If you hate me, I deserve it accordingly."

A nasty, empty silence hung in the air between them, and Kalda just kept looking at Britain with hate burning inside her eyes.

The unpleasant look still hadn't vanished from her face, and Britain wasn't expecting it to.

Kalda had every right to be mad at him, and Britain was not going to blame her at all because of her feelings.

For if anyone should be blamed, it was him.

Not Prussia for releasing the article to everyone in the whole world, not Kalda for begging Britain to go to the party, not Kalda for trusting him not to get drunk wasted like all of those other fools at the party that night....

No.

Britain was the one to blame, and that was okay with him.

He would take the blame like a man, he wouldn't lie, and he would be honest above all else.

Kalda didn't move, but she did soften.

She closed her eyes, her head hanging low over the table.

She looked guilty as well, for what Britain was unsure of, and he didn't expect her to tell him.

All of a sudden, Kalda started crying.

Britain didn't know what to do, and he was still dizzy because of his slow-going hangover recovery.

Kalda sniffled, looking up at Britain.

Her makeup was smeared, so he handed her a bunch of napkins for her to use as tissues.

"Are you all right?" he asked, hoping that she would speak to him again.

"It's just," Kalda started, blowing her nose, "I've never heard someone apologize to me like that before."

She's crying because I apologized to her? Britain questioned to himself, confused.

"I was just being honest," he told her calmly. "Is...there something wrong with that?"

"Either it's your British accent that makes you sound super sincere or something else, but this is the first time that someone has been honest to me," Kalda answered, becoming calm as well.

She wasn't crying anymore, her voice kind and genuine instead of broken and angry.

"Really?" Britain asked her. "Aren't your brothers honest to you?"

"Sometimes," Kalda replied, trying to wipe the tears off of her cheeks.

"Here, let me help," Britain told her as he did his best to stand up. "You're smearing your makeup."

"I was going to take a shower anyway," Kalda answered, letting him wipe her cheeks.

Britain saw her lips, and it took all of his strength not to kiss her.

I violated her once, he told himself. I'm never doing that again.

"You can go home after your shower if you wish," Britain suggested. "I won't stop you. In fact, I encourage you to leave, and I would be surprised if you didn't."

"If you're sure," Kalda nodded, standing up.

Kalda walked up to the doorway of the kitchen, but Britain stopped her before she could leave.

"Kalda," he said, looking at her.

"Yeah?" Kalda asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

"Are those...my clothes?" he questioned, becoming a little upset as he saw her wearing one of his white undershirts and a pair of his brown slacks.

Kalda just smiled awkwardly at his question.

"What?" she said. "It was dark in the room this morning."

Britain just rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"Plus...I like the way that they smell," Kalda added, holding up the collar of the shirt to her nose.

Britain yelped a little as Kalda suddenly ran out of the kitchen to get ready for her shower, scared of how he would react to her statement.

He sighed, still not feeling the greatest.

Britain then processed her words, going crazy.

"YOU LIKE THE SMELL OF MY CLOTHES?" he yelled in awkward confusion, running up to her room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another crazy day had started.

It only got worse when Kalda saw the condition that Britain was in. 

Kalda was upset that Britain had disobeyed her by getting drunk, then her nightmare came true, and then everything just went downhill from there.

Still, Kalda supposed that she couldn't blame him no more than she could blame herself.

It was Kalda's idea to go to the party, and she had pressured him into going with her.

Now I see why he avoids the parties, she realized as she closed her suitcase, latching it shut.

Kalda grabbed the leather handle in both hands, walking down the stairs.

"I'm really sorry," Kalda apologized. "I'm at fault just as much as you."

"That's all right," Britain told her, a small smile on his face. "You don't have to be sorry."

Kalda just smiled as well, walking out of his house without any further conversation.

She sighed once she sat down in her assigned seat on the airplane, trying to figure out what to say to her brothers when they yelled at her after her arrival.

Kalda had never actually read the article herself, so she asked Britain if it would be okay to bring the newspaper article with her.

Britain had told Kalda to take it, for reasons which she dared not to repeat, so she started reading it on her way home.

"Zhat poor girl, ja?" a woman asked Kalda in the seat beside her.

Kalda tried not to blush at the woman's concern for her, so she looked back at the picture of herself; she knew that no one would recognize her, so she was relieved.

"Yeah," Kalda agreed, looking at the article again. "She must be really scared to go anywhere now."

Kalda was speaking on behalf of herself, but she wanted to put her words in third person so that she wouldn't give herself away.

"Some men just don't care for vomen like zhey should," the woman continued on, and Kalda could tell that she was from Germany.

"I'm sure he's a nice person when he's not drunk," Kalda replied, and she knew deep down that what she had just said was true.

Britain was nice, and kind; he wasn't a nurturer, he had admitted that himself, but he still cared for things and people in a way that was fatherly.

"Perhaps," the woman continued, "but zhat still doesn't excuse vhat he did."

"Well, of course it doesn't," Kalda calmly agreed, "but I'm sure that he just got carried away."

The plane landed a few minutes later, and the woman stood up as Kalda followed suit.

"I hope zhat zhis clears off soon," she said. "It vould be a pity if she got persecuted for zhis."

Kalda just nodded, walking into the airport to grab her luggage and a quick taxi ride home.

I swear, if they yell at me, I'm going to hurt them where it hurts the most, Kalda plotted angrily, opening up the door.

"I'm home you pasta-loving jerk-faces!" Kalda yelled for no reason, grinning when she heard thudding come down the stairs.

"KALDA!" her two brothers said in unison, tackling her to the floor in a hug.

"Are you okay?" Veneziano asked.

"We read the article!" Romano interjected. "Are you hurt? Any bruises?"

"Do you have any bite marks?" Veneziano added on. "Is he secretly a vampire?"

Kalda sighed and rolled her eyes, pushing them aside as she stood up.

"One, I'm okay," Kalda started off defensively, "two, I'm not hurt, and three, Britain is not a vampire. He was just drunk and didn't know what he was doing. That's it, okay?"

"I'm still going to rip his head off!" Romano declared.

Kalda face-palmed, about ready to rip her brothers in half herself.

"And I'm about ready to rip you two in half!" Kalda yelled, losing her temper already. "It's one thing to yell at me, but it's another thing to threaten Britain!"

"Oh, please," Romano scoffed. "You don't actually like the guy, do you?"

"He wasn't that bad to start out with," Kalda replied, and the confused and angry looks on her brothers' faces told Kalda that she had spilled it.

She sighed, holding her head in one hand to think of an excuse.

"I don't even know what I'm saying anymore," she told them. "This whole thing is just out of whack."

She went upstairs and to her room, putting away her clothes.

Kalda walked downstairs again to grab a small snack when she heard a knock on the door.

She opened it, and gasped when she saw Britain standing there.

"What exactly are you doing here?" Kalda asked.

Britain slowly pulled out a bouquet of red English roses from behind his back, and Kalda carefully grasped them in her hands.

"English roses?" Kalda smirked, looking at him. "How thoughtful and unbelievably cliche' of you."

Britain chuckled as he grinned.

"It was the only apology that I could think of that wasn't intimate or ones that didn't come from France," he admitted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

Kalda laughed, giving him some space so that he could walk into the house.

"Prepare yourself," she told him. "You're walking into a war zone now."

"What do you mean?" Britain questioned, looking at Kalda with confusion.

"COME HERE YOU ENGLISH, PERVERTED, AND TEA DRINKING IDIOT!" Romano screamed at the top of his lungs, tackling Britain to the floor.

"GET OFF OF ME YOU PASTA-LOVING WANKER!" Britain fought back.

"What happened to them?" Veneziano asked Kalda, seeing that Romano and Britain were attacking each other on the floor.

"I honestly have no idea," Kalda shrugged, completely done with everyone for the rest of the day.