Chapter 1: Big Boy Now

I need to hurt. I need the pain. I like it. I can't live without it. I need to do it. I know it's wrong, but I really need it.

Latvia stood up from his bed, walked to the wall, and punched it with all of the strength he could.

That was weak! It barely hurt! This is nothing compared to what I get from Russia! I can do better than that!

Latvia punched the wall repeatedly, each time hitting harder than the last. If there were any neighbours nearby to hear, they might even call the sound desperate. Knuckles bleeding, Latvia lowered into a crouch, clutching his head with his fingers and digging his nails into his scalp.

It's not enough. It isn't enough anymore. I need to do more! I need to hurt more!

He strode quickly over to his small study. His house wasn't large or full of homely items, but he did keep a separate room for his work and all documents associated with being involved in the government. And there was a lot of paperwork involved in the government.

Reaching to the dusty side of the shelf, Latvia pulled out the thickest dated book of records that he had. Testing the weight, it seemed heavy enough. He threw the book down on his foot, letting the bottom of the spine hit him on the soft spot just before his toes.

Damn it, not even close to enough!

He made his way to the kitchen and repeated the process with the plates, adding bruises to his bruises.

Still not enough!

Taking advantage of his isolation, Latvia left the house. There were no neighbours for at least a kilometer. Living in rural areas had an advantage sometimes. Latvia ran into the trees to where he knew of a large boulder. It was six feet in height, roughly rounded and reasonably smooth, with a couple of footholds and smaller flat surfaces that made it easy to climb.

Once upon a time, Latvia would sit on the rock, enjoy the solitude, and think. Sometimes, Lithuania would join him and the two would sit in silence together, looking at the sky through the treetops. But that was a long time ago.

Now, the rock seemed like the perfect punching bag.

Latvia began to unload his frustrations onto the rock, punching it with vigour.

I'm so stupid! So useless! Pathetic! It's no wonder I'm so small! No wonder I still look so young compared to the others!

When his hands grew numb, Latvia began to kick the rock with his feet and shins. The combat training from the wars was certainly useful for allowing the best technique.

What's wrong with me? I can't stand up to Russia. He squeezes me down, keeping me small.

His legs grew numb and were bleeding from the scratches. On impulse, he strode closer to the rock, and slammed his head into the side face.

I'm too scared to do anything. I don't like being scared. I don't want to be afraid. Not anymore...

Latvia's thoughts trailed off and he smiled as he slipped into the numb and peaceful realm of unconsciousness.

He awoke slowly, feeling groggy. It was as though his head was stuffed with cotton and his his thoughts were being dragged through molasses. As odd a feeling as it was, Latvia didn't feel any pain. Not in his head, not on his body. He was numb and, dare he say it, almost happy.

As the dirt ground into his wounds, Latvia felt a sense of peace. He was not weak. He could take it, all of it. What could be worse than this? Russia's abuse, a piece of cake compared to what he was able to do to himself. No one could say that he was weak if they knew about this. It took strength to be able to damage oneself as much as this. If he were human, there was a decent chance he could have killed himself like this. The thought probably should have scared him, but at the moment, it didn't.

Latvia stood up from the ground, scratching the dirt into the cuts on his arms and legs, taking no mind of the bruises on his feet and hands. It might hurt physically, but Latvia couldn't care less. He barely felt it, and he didn't care. Maybe it would hurt later, but for now, Latvia was content with the feeling he had now.

Only the strong can handle this. I am strong. I am proving it. Some day, everyone will see.

He headed back to the house and tucked into his study. He needed to get the paperwork done before the next World Meeting. When was it, anyways? Three days, four maybe? Not a lot of time, but he knew he could do it. He proved his strength to himself. Now his resolve. He can do anything because nothing can bother him now.

What even triggered that anyways? Why did I just suddenly need to hurt myself?

Latvia sat and looked over the documents on his desk. There were three piles: one for his government and his national responsibility, one for the World Meeting that included the topics to be covered and his expected contribution, and the last for his personal affairs. The final pile was the smallest by a huge margin. There might have been ten pages in the pile, but it had been a while since the last time he had brought himself to look at the pile. His drivers license wasn't expiring soon, his insurance wasn't due for months, and taxes had already passed. There wasn't much else that he needed for himself.

He had only been independent from the USSR since 1991, so less than twenty-five years. He knew that he was still young, and fairly new to the workload, but that didn't mean that he didn't have to do everything that his government asked of him. He didn't know how some of the other more powerful countries dealt with it. All of the stress and ridicule. Latvia wasn't even a large or powerful country. He still had several ties to Russia through his people and military especially, so it isn't as though he's completely on his own in his affairs. At least some of them.

America looks almost the same age as he does, and he can handle everything without batting an eye. On top of the normal responsibilities, America is also a part of the G8 and the one of the most powerful countries in the world, economically. He also gets laughed at for his country's stereotypes and his general stupidity. How is it that he can be fine while Latvia suffers?

Did I do something wrong? Is it my fault that I feel like this all the time?

Clearly he must be doing something if he's the only one that feels the need to hurt himself to calm himself down. It isn't healthy, it's definitely the wrong thing to do, but it makes him feel strong and it helps to get rid of the awful feelings of self-hatred and loathing. Best of all, is gets rid of the fear. When he feels that much pain, and when he takes control, the fear, the shaking, and everything he hates about himself disappear for the moment.

It also feels really good.

Why would he want to stop? If it feels good, keeps him calm, and keeps the negatives at bay, why would he ever consider giving up the habit? Just because it is generally frowned upon? Latvia knows already that he can easily hide any injuries that he inflicts upon his body. He's been hiding himself for a very long time. When he lived with Russia, it was easy to hide broken fingers and toes from hitting his limbs against walls and floors. The constant shaking and trembling caused by his nervous nature hid the shaking from the pain in his legs and back when he stood and sat.

Is is sad that I have more experience hiding myself than doing the job I was born to do? Literally what I was created for?

Maybe it's just because hiding is easy? Generally, people do not assume that one is harming oneself. They will assume that there is something else going on, usually something external. They would probably accuse Russia of abuse before they suspected self harm.

Hiding becomes even easier without any of the telltale marks associated with self harm. When people think of self harm, it's always cutting, burning, and starvation. If it's just bruises and broken bones, then it can be passed off as extreme clumsiness. With all of his shaking, it's easy for Latvia to come up with excuses for his injuries.

To an extent, it is surprising that neither Lithuania or Estonia has noticed anything strange about the younger country. At the same time, the three did not interact nearly as much as the other nations expect. The three of them have very little in common, besides proximity and the time that they had spent living in Russia's house. Sure, the three had looked out for each other, but they didn't spend much time talking about anything personal. They are three different people with three different lives and three different sets of experiences. Though they are grouped together as the Baltic States, they aren't very close.

Latvia just felt alone.

No one is like me at all.

He felt alone in every aspect of his life. Alone in the harm, alone with his feelings, alone with no friends, alone with no one to speak to, and alone with all of the goddamn growing pile of paperwork in front of him on the desk right now. How would he finish it all before the World Meeting? Less than 72 hours to get through both stacks of paper. On the down side, Latvia is a nation, so he has a lot of responsibilities. On the up side, though, he is a nation. Staying up for 72 straight hours to finish the work won't kill him. It won't even hurt.

It only took 62 hours. Sometimes, I can work fast, I suppose. Only six hours until the World Meeting starts.

After a quick glance at the clock, Latvia booked it out of his house. With any luck, he would make it to the meeting on time. Lithuania is the host this time, so he should be able to make it with plenty of time. It's only a three and a half hour trip from Riga to Vilnius, maybe four hours with the border crossing. He figured he could take a nap when he gets there. Two hours should be enough to catch up on sleep, right? It's not nearly enough, but it will have to do.

A quick glance in the car mirror showed Latvia that he still looked like someone had beat him half to death. Technically, he was, but no one needed to know that he had caused it himself. No way to hide it now. At least he had the next three and a half hours to come up with a good excuse. After all this time, it's almost a game. Maybe he could even try to make himself seem strong or tough this time. Tripping, stairs, and getting mugged only work so many times, after all. He'd have to come up with something a bit more creative. This could be fun.

Maybe. Almost.

A/N: Hey! As a sidenote, there is a poll on my profile for future Hetalia fics. I know that it says angst on it, but I'll probably be writing some friendship fics as well. Check it out. I'd love to hear your feedback!

-Shippo704