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Suicide by Proxy	By : tamasama Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2305 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis powers or any of the characters depicted herein. This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to the events of any person's life, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter List
- 1-Introduction
- 2-Love
- 3-Lust
- 4-Hate
- 5-Envy
- 3
- 4
- 5
Hate

Matthew pushed the hair from his face and tried readjusting his uncomfortable position on the hard ground. He lay in a patch of bushes (not the rose kind this time around, thankfully) across the street from Alfred's house, his trusty pair of binoculars over his eyes. Although he was sure that no one would have noticed him there even if he were wearing his bright red mounty uniform and singing 'Hips Don't Lie' at he very top of his lungs, he was wearing a camo shirt and a black pair of jeans to try and blend into the shadows a little better. It was day three of 'Operation Find Out Who The Heck His Brother Was Fucking' and he was ornery and tired. The first day he had called everyone he worked for or with and politely told them all to kindly fuck off for a while and packed everything that he would need: A week's worth of clothes and food and his spying equipment were tossed into his car and he was off. The second day he tapped America's phones, set up small surveillance bugs in his car and throughout his home, and began his twenty-four hour tracking. Alfred woke up at ten o' five in the morning. The first thing he did was go to the bathroom and mutter angrily about Mexican food. He took a twenty-seven minute shower and got ready. For breakfast he had two eggs, a massive pile of hash browns, and two cups of coffee. He ate while reading the Times and leaning dangerously far back in his chair.

He got a phone call from a telemarketer. He told them to 'fuck off and stop calling so early' before he hung up. He went to the store and bought eggs, milk, and (much to Canada's silent rage) another pack of condoms. 'Studded for you pleasure'. It came up to $14.86. The cashier looked friendly. They had better be friendly to his big brother, if they knew what was good for them. He drove to some fast food joint (how much did he need to eat in a day?) and ordered a chicken sandwich meal with a large fry and a strawberry shake. The man who took his order had a thick Scandinavian accent. It was $11.56. He filled his gas tank and bought another pack of cigarettes at a station (smoked one next to the pumps). He then went down to a local church for an hour and fifteen minutes (it was Sunday, after all, and Alfred could be a real religious nut at times). Once he was done there he took a walk around the downtown area, seemingly at random. He got another call. It was a woman, she asked him if he was busy the next day. Alfred said no, asked her if she wanted to do something. She laughed and said yes. Canada's hands clenched into tight fists at their laid-back exchange and he felt the nails break the skin of his palms and didn't care, but he couldn't be sure that that woman was the culprit just yet. He would need to wait until the next day.

Alfred went to a bar and ate yet again, bumped into some of his human buddies and played some cards. He lost twenty-five dollars. They all parted ways and Alfred headed home. It was 6:30PM when he left, and almost seven by the time he arrived at his suburban dwelling. He fed his cat and played an FPS for a couple of hours, yelling at people through the headset. He ate again, microwaving a TV dinner and wolfing it down through an episode of that cartoon with the talking sea life. He watched the news while he digested. By about 10:30 he got into his exercise clothes and took a run through a park that was close to his home. After his work out was over he got into the shower for ten minutes to freshen up a bit. He threw in a load of laundry and used a cat teaser to play with his pet for about ten minutes. He vacuumed (laughing as he chased the terrified animal about the living room) and swept. Threw the clothes into the drier and yawned, his hand over his mouth and one eye shut. He had a snack of some chocolate chip cookies over an episode of The X-files and went to bed at 1:26AM.

It was now day three and although Matthew was sore from running all about town after his brother and needing to hide in some of the most uncomfortable spots, he felt more awake than the five hours of sleep he had caught called for. His stomach grumbled incessantly (he was far too busy the day before to eat anything beyond a granola bar) and his back ached. He pulled a canteen of water from it's little perch on his thigh and took a long pull of the cool water. He returned the binoculars to his eyes as he slowly licked a few drops of water from his lips, peeking into Alfred's window and watching his lump of a form wriggle about under the blankets. Through the ear bud Canada wore he heard the alarm clock begin to shriek. It was nine twenty-five. What a strange time to set an alarm for, but no matter. He was waking up. He stretched and climbed out from the soft bed, slapping his alarm off as he made his way to the bathroom. Canada let out an excited little puff of air from his nostrils when the American forgot to close the door behind himself and urinated.

"It's a good thing I didn't forget this." Matthew huffed, zooming in with his rather expensive camera to snap a few pictures. Just because he had important business to attend to, that didn't mean that it had to be all work and no play. He took a moment while Alfred was in the shower to dig into his bag and pull out a can of green beans and scarf it down, rolling onto his side to try and alleviate some of the pain in his back. He needed to start bringing something softer to lay on because dang it this was ridiculous. The bud in his ear relayed the sound of the water being turned off so he rolled onto his back and watched though the window again. Everything appeared to be upside down. America got dressed (nicer clothes than he usually wore. Why didn't he dress up like that when he was going to Canada's house?) and combed his hair. He pulled a silver cross necklace on and clipped it with some difficulty. It was followed by a large golden ring on the right middle finger and a rather stylish belt. Canada whistled quietly to himself and snapped a few more pictures. Alfred was looking hot.

Alfred was looking hot for someone else. His mood darkened again and he set his camera aside and wriggled a little on the hard ground. Was it a date? It sure looked like a date. He grimaced when the oblivious blonde sent out a text and disappeared from the room, headed downstairs. Matthew didn't have a way to pick up his texts, only phone calls. All of the audio bugs in the world wouldn't help him in that area. He didn't have to dwell on it too long, though. Alfred walked from his house and locked the door behind himself (as if that had ever kept Matthew out) and made his way to the garage. As he was getting situated in his shiny Porsche the Canadian army-crawled over to his own vehicle. Of course he brought one that the American wouldn't immediately recognize. He slid into the driver's seat and buckled up, wiping a smear of dirt from his cheek as he put the car in drive and followed once Alfred's car had rounded the corner.

He drove for quite some time until they had pulled in to a large hospital parking lot. He parked on the other side of the lot and watched as Alfred climbed from his car and leaned on the glimmering hood. He pulled his cell from his pocket and made a short call. "I'm outside in the parking lot."

"I'll be right there."

Canada recognized the voice immediately. It was the same woman from the day before. He took another mouthful of water as he waited apprehensively for the mystery person to show. And there she was, he could tell by the infuriating way his brother's face lit up when she stepped out from the automatic doors. Her hair was long and black and wavy, dusting back and forth across the small of her back as she walked. She was a pretty little thing, that was for sure. Probably Mexican-American, petite, deeply tanned skin and a bountiful chest. Her tiny waist led down to the hips that swayed seductively with every step, and she had an ass like no other. Thick thighs, exotic-looking face with full pouting lips. Well la-de-fucking-da, wasn't she just quite the catch? He wanted to rip his steering wheel from it's base and use it to smash his own car to pieces when they embraced next to Alfred's car. He actually had to look away when they kissed. It was more like a light peck but it was all too much for him to look upon at the moment. Those lips, Alfred's lips, were his and how dare that whore defile them with her nastiness?

Fighting off a bout of hyperventilation, Canada turned to look at them once more, to see that they had climbed into the car and were actually leaving the parking lot. Pulling his own car into gear he followed behind with his mind churning over what was happening and what, exactly, he was going to do about it. In all honesty he had hoped that this whole thing would have turned out to be nothing but a misunderstanding (how can a used condom in the trash be a misunderstanding?) and he would have gone home feeling foolish. He hadn't come up with any plan at all about how to rid himself of the nuisance if it had actually turned out to be something real. So he just followed them, gritting his teeth as he listened in on their conversation. It was so full of fresh-couple that it made him want to throw up. Her little giggles pissed him off and Alfred's crappy jokes made him seethe. He was the one that Alfred should have been feeding those cheesy lines to. How could his brother do this? How could he go out with some skank when he had a perfectly loving sibling waiting for him? Didn't he care about how he made Matthew feel? Didn't he even just care enough to push that bitch out of the car and be rid of her?

He hated her with every ounce of his being. He could even feel it in the tips of his hair. He hated her for getting between him and his beloved brother, he hated himself for obviously not being what Alfred wanted, and most of all he had a heavy rock of burning hate for Alfred himself sitting in his stomach for causing all of this by not learning to just keep it in his freakin' pants already! He watched them pull into a parking lot for some batting cages as he rolled on by to park a little ways down the street. He crept down the sidewalk and slipped into the establishment behind them. It was automated; People come in and pay at little individual kiosks, choosing the amount of time that they wanted and the intensity of the pitches with two little dials. It cost five dollars for ten minutes. Alfred pushed one of his green dollars into the slot and it spat it back out at him. Tried again, it wouldn't take it. Smoothed it out on the corner of the wall and it finally sucked it up. Medium intensity, please and thank you.

The device that pitched the balls was half-hidden behind a brick wall, with only the nozzle exposed. Behind that wall was where Canada was hiding, his back pressed up against the cool brick as he peeked around the edge and focused on staying invisible. Remaining unnoticed wasn't something that he had full control of, but if he focused on it with some high level of effort the effect became more pronounced and even people like Kumaringo wouldn't see him. His violet eyes narrowed to slits as he watched Alfred and That Woman laugh at some joke his brother had told. You know, one of the basics like 'so a horse walks into a bar'. Everything about her angered him; the way she moved, the way she would cover her mouth with the side of her fist when she laughed, how when she said a word that began with a 'b' her lips would really pop, making an 'o' shape so that the letter came out more like 'bo' than just 'b'. "Al, hand me the 'bo'at", "how a'bo'out you shut up!" "that's 'bo'ecause you're so cool". It was weird and it sounded weird and god damn it all how could Alfred stand it? When she was pretending to be mad her cheeks puffed up with air and when she made a joke she would always put her left hand on her hip. She was just so irritating in her sad attempts at being cute.

And then Alfred took a bat and prepared himself to hit a few balls. He stood there for a moment, wiping a little drop of sweat from his forehead with the sun shining down on him like a spotlight. His hair shimmered under the hot light and a small gust of wind sent it flowing beautifully, his left hand spinning the bat in slow circles at his side. Matthew swallowed audibly as he watched America get into position and tell That Woman to press 'start'. Oh maple he was just so dang attractive. Canada jumped, startled, when the machine at his side shot out a ball with a grinding 'pop'. While Alfred went about swinging away (hit twelve, missed three) Canada slunk around the machine to get a good look at it. Big and square-ish, mostly grey. The balls must have come from the tube that led into the main building a little ways away, and there was a little control panel on the side that dealt with turning the machine on and off, as well as the intensity. Matthew crept back to the hole and peeked out when he heard his brother talking to That Woman.

He felt like his stomach was going to curl up and rot when he saw that Alfred was doing that oh so cliché move that he loved to slap into all of his terribly sappy romance movies. 'Oh no! I can't function!' The heroine would say after being absolutely brutal at whatever it was she was trying to do. 'Let me help you' the handsome stranger would interject in that sticky-suave way and go about showing her how to do whatever it was. And he would always have to stand pressed up to her back, his voice low against her ear, his arms around her as he held whatever tool they were working at the time. Alfred was doing just that, pressed up against That Woman (who was blushing and looking at the ground) and offering little bits of advice as his hands held hers over the bat. While he was talking he took a moment to plant a little kiss on her ear and Canada raged about in the tiny space, whispering all manner of curses to himself and using up every ounce of willpower he had to not just jump out before them and beat That Woman to death with his bare hands. There were times when he wished that he was a s gun-crazy as his big brother.

He slipped back to the side of the machine, groaning at the stifling heat, and cranked the intensity to the highest level. He looked out again and snickered meanly to himself when Alfred backed away and pushed the 'on' button. The balls shot out like they were thrown by a professional, one after another, and it was just so funny how That Woman shrieked and cowered against the painful assault. She was hit by four by the time Alfred had managed to get to her and pull her away, and it was even funny that he was hit by them as well. It was what he deserved for being out with some whore. Oh of course, she was crying. What a whiner, it was only a few baseballs to the midsection and chest, what was there to cry about? And god damn it now Alfred was hugging her. He helped her up and held her close to himself, pushing some of her hair from her face and wiping up a tear with his finger as he said something Canada was too busy losing himself in rage to actually hear. Alfred smiled and she smiled in return. They packed up their things and began to leave.

They went to see a movie, something sappy and romantic (Matthew rolled in rage as they spent the whole damn time kissing and giggling). They went out to a little café to eat and Canada sat a little ways away from them, his face hidden behind a newspaper. He paid off a waiter to spit in their food. He shook with concealed laughter at the look on their faces when they noticed the thick tendrils of saliva mixed amongst their meal. Quite appalled, Alfred argued with the manager for some ten minutes and then left, turning down the offer for complementary free food. They went to an arcade and Canada (knowing that Alfred only ever used the left dance pad) slicked the right pad of a popular full-body rhythm game with some lotion he had been carrying. He peeked from a nearby photo booth and grinned when That Woman slipped mid-song and fell down with a painful thud.

And now here they were, sitting on a thin blanket that Alfred had purchased some ten minutes ago from a small store, setting out picnic foods. Canada was peeking at them from behind a tree, gnawing his fingernails as he tried to figure a way to mess up this particular activity until he saw a man a little ways away playing fetch with his rather large German Sheppard.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Wait, what, who said that?"

"Hi, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Dude, I didn't even see you. Haha, sorry about that."

"May I ask a favor?"

"What's up?"

"You see those people over there?"

"Uh-huh."

"I'll give you a hundred bucks to run your dog through their picnic and mess it up."

"…What?"

"I'll pay you one hundred American dollars, cash, to leash your dog and pretend that it's gotten from your control and run through their stuff."

"A hundred bucks?"

"Yes."

"Why? That guy steal your chic or something?"

"Or something."

"So a hundred bucks, huh?"

"Yes, right now."

The bill was passed from Matthew to the man who whistled his dog back and chained it. "This is weird."

"Make sure you don't leave anything unscathed. See if your dog can just eat everything or something. Oh, and be sure to step on That Woman while your at it."

"R-right."

The man took off running towards them, shouting lamely for his dog to stop running. The dog almost did stop running a few times, but he got it moving again. That Woman shrieked when the dog ran across the blanket, scattering food about and the man actually managed to trip over a thermos on accident and slam into her. Alfred stood and moved back and forth, seemingly unsure of what to save. His girlfriend rolling around on the ground, now wet with food and drink and being squished by the guy with the dog? The food that was being wolfed down by a rather large canine? His own fancy clothes that would surly be ruined by the mess if he tried to jump into it? Canada sat behind the tree laughing loudly into his hands until it hurt. By the time his mirth had faded off into soft giggles and an ache in his ribs the man had wrangled his dog and apologized profusely before running off. That Woman looked a mess and appeared to be on the verge of tears again and Alfred looked rather distraught. His expression said something like 'Why is my day turning out so crappy?'

When she turned around Alfred burst out laughing at the tomato that was stuck to her bum, and to all of Matthew's chagrin she began to laugh as well. They just laughed and laughed and laughed together at the ridiculousness of the situation as they went about cleaning the mess that was supposed to be their dinner. And once everything was in a neat pile they sat on the grass and began pawing at each other like a bad day was some kind of aphrodisiac and Matthew felt tears sting his eyes at the knowledge that everything he had tried just was not working. He watched, deep in a pool of jealously and hate as they rolled about on the grass together. There was only one thing he could do to stop them from going back to one of their houses and rubbing around on each other in some disgusting way. The wavy-haired blonde jogged away toward where Alfred had parked his beautiful Porsche. Taking a small knife from his belt, he looked around and saw no one. A stab and yank, on to the next tire to stab and yank, and the way around until all four tires were quite thoroughly slashed. Hell, why stop there? Drag that blade up and down across the immaculate paint job while cringing at the awful sound it was making. Well it was sad to see the pretty car violated in such a way and he knew it would make his brother sad, but Alfred had made him do it! If he would have just gone home instead of persisting on touching that horrible woman he would have had his car spared.

It worked out exactly as planned. Alfred and That Woman made their way up from the park hand in hand, all smiles and flushed cheeks. Alfred saw the horrible state of his car and just stared and stared and stared before he took a deep and shaky breath. He called for a taxi and a tow truck. He reassured her that he was fine but this was just all too much and he had a lot to do with his car. The taxi showed up and she climbed in.

Matthew was sitting in his own car, listening to the exchange through his ear bud. Alfred leaned in towards his girlfriend and kissed her lightly on the nose with a slightly strained smile. "I'll call ya later, okay?"

"I'm sure they'll find out who did it, Al."

"I know, baby." And as he pulled back, "I love you."

She smiled sweetly and returned the sentiment. Matthew could feel bile rising in his throat so he pushed his car door open and stuck his head out but all that came up was a crazed fit of laughter. Love? Love? He knew his brother was self-absorbed but to say that he 'loves' one of his citizens was beyond narcissism. Playing around with them, befriending them, even rutting away with them was a fairly common thing that every nation did, but to love? It was like loving a strand of hair, a skin cell, one single white blood cell! It was ridiculous and stupid so there was no way in hell he could actually mean it! There was no way, right? Right? His laughter cracked and he pushed his hand over his mouth to try and muffle it lest his brother hear him. There was absolutely no way in hell, right? His eyes began to sting and all at once tears began to fall, fat and glistening, down onto the concrete and yet he just continued to laugh. It was actually starting to hurt. He heard her address through the little speaker in his ear and he laughed harder and harder, struggling to breath and wincing at the pain in his side.

Still cackling he sat back in his seat and shut the door. He started the car and pulled away, leaving his brother to wait for the tow truck. Love! There was no way it was true and if it was then there was only one way to cut that right in the bud. The thought brought on another hysterical fit of laughter as he cruised down the road to the van that he was staying in.

Bobby pins sure did come in handy. Canada fixed them about here and there in his hair and with a hat on they gave the appearance of having a shorter style. He tucked his ahego up into the hat then changed into a black T-shirt and blue jeans. Pulled on a worn pair of runners. He looked into the small mirror that he had and winked at himself. It was a fairly good disguise. He climbed out of the back of the white van he was using to sleep in while in the states and looked up at the sliver of a moon that hung in the sky. He nodded to himself and smiled.

In half an hour he parked out front of a well taken care of apartment building. 194 Thistle Street. Now which apartment was it? It was time for a little trial and error. So he went to every door and knocked. Some weren't answered. Random people came from others and he laughed as charmingly as he could, "oh, I'm sorry to wake you, I must be at the wrong one." And, some twenty minutes of misfires later, he knocked on apartment number 86, second floor. That Woman answered the door in an airy blue slip that accentuated the rise of her breasts and clung to all the right curves. At first a look of confusion, followed by a large smile.

"Al! What a surprise, come on in!" She said, moving to the side to let Matthew in. Well, apparently the disguise was working. Her apartment was warm and inviting, with various pictures of friends and family lining the walls. The entry area was hardwood that changed to a soft brown carpet in the living room. The lighting was soft and it smelled like flowers and that powder you sprinkle onto a carpet before vacuuming. How quaint.

"Why are you here? Did they find anything out about your car?" She asked as she shut the door and locked it.

"No, I just wanted to come over."

"Sweetie, what's wrong with your voice? It's so quiet."

"I- I think I'm coming down with something." When she walked by he noticed that she smelled like cotton candy. It was kind of nauseating in it's sweetness. She smelled like a stripper. Matthew followed behind her and took a seat on the soft loveseat when it was offered.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yeah." She left the room and he hated her more than he had before, if that was possible. He hated her for clearly being unable to tell the difference between himself and his brother. He could tell the difference, so how could anyone claiming to be in love with Alfred not be able? She was a whore, and now he knew that she was a liar.

"You're lucky, I just had dinner an hour ago." She said happily, coming into the room with a bowl of soup that she had heated in the microwave. She set it in front of him on the coffee table. Canada forced a smile and swallowed a spoonful. He stiffened when she down next to him, her ankles crossed and knees pointing in his direction.

"What do you think?" She put a small hand onto his thigh and he wanted to punch her in the mouth.

"It's good." And it was, but he was damn sure that she had never gone through as much trouble as he had to feed the American. He had put his everything into all of the food he cooked for that man, so how in the hell could she claim to love him when she only fed him something as half-hearted as this? Why did Alfred like her so much when Matthew could one-up everything that she had to offer? He put the spoon into the bowl and pushed it away from himself. What was he here for, anyway? All he knew was that he had come with the intention of getting her out of his brother's life… somehow. But how? He looked around, barely hearing her words, and considered different ways to go about breaking up with her.

Alarms went off in his head when her hand slipped over his thigh and settled on his crotch. "I know why you're here." She was saying with a seductive smile, "Need to work out some of that stress, right?"

Canada said nothing as she slowly undid his fly and leaned forward to kiss along his neck. Her mouth felt like a slimy leech crawling over his skin and he worried that he was going to throw up. He just sat unmoving as she undid his pants and freed his member, lightly stroking it with her soft, warm fingers. He was completely unsure what to do but he also wondered how well she fared in bed. Was that the reason Alfred liked this particular human so much? She let the flesh of his neck go and leaned down to envelope him in the warm, wet recess of her mouth. As her head moved up and down on him he admitted that it felt nice but he was absolutely sure that he was better in every way. How much practice did she have? By the looks of her maybe four years. He had lifetimes under his belt, damn it, so why the hell did his brother like her so damn much? He felt the anger rising as she worked obliviously, the hate for this woman growing and growing until it all but consumed him. He was better than her in every way! He was a better cook, he was better in bed, he loved and cared for his brother like no one else was capable and here this woman was, stealing his Alfred away! She was irritating and average and nothing but a short-lived useless human so WHY THE HELL WAS SHE WITH HIS BROTHER WHEN HE WASN'T?

He grabbed her by fistful of hair and threw her to the floor with more force than was probably necessary, electing a little squeak of surprise from her. He dropped down over her and pushed the little slip up and out of the way, then snatched her panties and with one hard yank ripped them almost fully from her hips. He hated her so much and hated her more as she moaned softly when he pushed two fingers up into her already moistened sex, testing to see how hard it would be to get it in. He used his other hand to pull his jeans down a little ways as his fingers explored the hot cavern, knowing that his brother had felt this before. This was what she was using to steal his brother and god damn it all it pissed him off.

"H-hey, Al, not so rough." She winced, trying to close her legs.

He pulled his fingers from her and took a moment to aim, pressing the head of his penis against her opening. "Woah, wait! Put on a condom first!" She breathed, wriggling beneath him. So that explained his brother's sudden interest in them. He had thought it was weird that he was wasting time with them, since it wasn't like countries could conceive or mate with humans. There was also no fear of STDs. The fact that his brother was using a useless item to placate this useless woman enraged him even more.

"Shut up." Was all he said as he rammed inside of her so hard that it hurt even him, never mind how painful it must have been for her. After he took a moment to wait for the little ache in the tip of his member to abate, he pushed her legs wide apart and began thrusting into the slick heat and god damn it, it felt good and even that really pissed him off. After a moment her little pained whimpers turned into moans of pleasure that rang out loudly in the comfortably furnished room and she lifted her hips up into his thrusts, apparently having forgotten the need for some form of protection.

As she panted and moaned and wrapped her lithe arms around the back of his neck all he could think of was how utterly betrayed he felt. How many years had he put into his brother? He lavished him in gifts (regardless of whether or not Alfred knew who was leaving random items on his porch from time to time), he was always there for him when he needed someone to talk with or just felt like shooting the shit, he always stood up for him. He had put his heart and his god damned soul into learning everything that there was to know about Alfred and this was how he was repaid? By some useless, irritating woman being the one he decides he wants? He was always ignored and it was only worse when Alfred was nearby. No one took him seriously, it was like he was just some running gag about being totally uninteresting to the point that he was invisible. All England cared about was Alfred, why didn't he care about him? He was as much of a part of the United Kingdom as Alfred was at some point, maybe even more! Even France ignored him more often than not. Matthew spent about half of his time speaking that bastard's language and still he didn't care about him!

"Oh god, Al, this has gotta be the best you're ever given me." That Woman was saying, leaning up on one of her elbows and rolling a nipple between her fingers. Canada looked up into her eyes for the first time since he had arrived, glaring. A look of confusion flashed over her face. "Al, your eyes-"

"I hate you." The words slipped from his lips like a bitter acid as his hands clamped around her thin neck, the pads of his thumbs pushing against her esophagus. Her eyes grew wide and Canada knew that she had finally figured out that he wasn't Alfred. She must have been so confused, did she even know that her boyfriend had a brother? She let out a little squeak.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you." Matthew was saying as he increased the pressure on her throat, still slamming into her as he did so. He was squeezing the fragile neck of this girl, this woman, this little bitch whore who had tried to come between himself and his brother. He was strangling her and she was everything. She was her in all of her rage-worthy ways, she was Alfred standing in the sun bat in hand, she was himself in Alfred's eternal shadow, she was the whole damn world and her struggled thrashing just felt so damn good. He took her, claimed her, stole her away from his brother as he stared into her frantic eyes and repeated those words over and over again like some kind of mantra, watching her die with so much pleasure that he was sure he would cum any time.

Her struggling slowed and eventually stopped, her head lolling back and her eyes rolling up a little ways and yet he only squeezed harder and used her like the thing that she was. Humans died so easily, it was actually kind of funny. He pushed into her lifeless body twice more and came with a shudder. And he just stayed hunched over her, still squeezing the unresponsive neck and catching his breath. "I hate you."

Some five minutes passed before the cramp growing in his left hand forced him to finally let go, and he pulled his softened member out with an audible and squishy-sounding 'pop'. Ew. He stood and pulled up his pants, feeling rather filthy for having touched That Woman, so he decided to take a shower. While he stood under the warm spray he tried to figure out what to do with her. He didn't want America finding out that she had been killed since that was sure to send him into a depression for quite some time (he wouldn't been in a 'hanging out' kind of mood, Canada was sure) so he needed to do something with the body. After feeling sufficiently cleaned he climbed out of the tub and dried himself with one of her towels. He had nothing to fear in doing it, as countries didn't have things like finger prints or DNA. He could easily just leave her there, lying in the middle of the room, and never be found out. But he didn't like the idea of hurting Alfred's feelings.

Once he was dressed again (took out the pins and stuffed the hat into his pocket, happy to let his hair down) he walked out to her and took her by an ankle, dragging her behind himself and into the kitchen. It was a good thing his brother didn't like fat women or that would have been very difficult. He looked about himself. Maybe he should chop her up into little pieces and dispose of her that way? It sounded awful messy. He rummaged about in her drawers but only managed to come up with a paring knife, a cheese cutter, and a steak knife. Well that wasn't going to work. He tossed them back into the drawer and closed it. There was obviously no way to make it look like a suicide, so that option was out. Maybe burying her would be the answer? As he thought he sat down on the floor next to her and unpeeled a banana he had procured from the kitchen island.

"What do you think?" He asked her, taking a bite. Well, apparently even in death she was a bitch. She gave no answer and Canada just shrugged. "I don't think that would work too well, I don't want them finding you." He once again entertained the idea of just leaving her there, but he was pretty sure that Alfred intended to visit her the next day and the last thing he needed was his brother whining on and on about his girlfriend dying.

"It would serve him right, messing around with humans. They die all the time, what should you expect out of them?" He muttered to himself between bites. He lifted himself from the floor and grabbed her by the ankle again and just drug her about the house behind himself and he looked around and thought about what he was going to do with her. He stopped down a hallway to look at the pictures hung there. A Christmas photo with her, probably her parents, what appeared to be siblings and a rather large fluffy brown dog. Her with some friends. A picture of Alfred sleeping, his face having been doodled on in marker. He took that one.

"You have to have more of his stuff." He said half to her and half to himself as he drug her limp body behind himself and walked to the bedroom. He stepped in and dropped her in the doorway, then went about scouring the room for any traces of America. A pair of his boxers. Definitely keeping that. A few more pictures in a large wooden dresser. He tore her face from them all and pocketed the Alfred sides. He saw that she had two missed calls. The button beeped when pushed.

"Hey honey, it's mom. Raul's birthday is next week, are you coming to Reno for it? I swear he'll cry if you say no! Call me back tomorrow, alright?"

Beep, deleted.

"Miss Hernandez, this is the dean of McLammin College calling to let you know that I got your entry essay and I must say, it was quite good! I'm hoping to speak with you so that we can set up a meeting to finalize your transfer."

Beep, deleted.

Canada looked back at That Woman's crumpled form and frowned. Maybe water? He nodded and pulled her back to the kitchen where he went about stuffing her into a suitcase he had found in a hall closet. Once it was zipped (he had to sit on it to get it to close) he went into the office and opened Word, where he wrote a short letter:

Al,

I'm eloping with Jackson. I know that you don't know him but I've been having an affair with him for some time now. I should have been more honest with you but better late than never, I suppose.

Goodbye.

He left it flashing on the screen and went back into the kitchen to retrieve her. Although she was relatively light he had some trouble lugging her down the stairs and out to his car, where he dumped her into the trunk. It took twenty minutes to drive out to a lake large and deep enough for his purposes and another half an hour to procure a boat. He unzipped the case a ways and stuffed some large and heavy rocks in with her before he struggled to toss the bag into the little paddle boat before himself. He dropped it onto his foot and yelped in pain, giving it a hard kick. The second time it almost made it in before it slipped the wrong way and fell into the shallow water, splashing him. Third time's a charm, or so they say, and he managed to get the wet and heavy bag into the boat and paddle out to the middle of the still lake. Crickets chirped in the murky twilight as he pushed the suitcase into the water with a loud slash and his boat almost capsized.

Once that was finally over and done with he sat back in the boat and took a minute to relax and catch his breath. It had been an eventful couple of days and he was beginning to feel wiped. He kind of had a hankering for hot chocolate. Maybe when he got home he would just cuddle up with Kumariji and watch movies. A bird called in the distance and now that was felt confident that she wasn't going to float up to the surface he slowly began paddling back to the shore. It really was a nice morning, quite relaxing.

A few days later, Matthew sat at America's kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. Alfred was reading the newspaper. The day after he had disposed of that trash his brother was so fond of keeping, Alfred had called him and told him all about the botched date and the fate of his beautiful car.

"Maybe it's a sign? Maybe God doesn't want you two together?" Canada had said, knowing that throwing God into something always made his brother take it more seriously.

"I dunno, maybe you're right? Sorry I didn't mention her before, bro. I was a little embarrassed thinking that you might say I was self-absorbed or something." He had laughed. "I'll give it more time, though."

The next day he had gone to visit her and found the note. He called Matthew and invited him over. They got drunk and Alfred raged about his home, calling That Woman all sorts of unsavory names before he laid his head down on the table and cried. Matthew was right there behind him, stroking his hair and reassuring him that he was better off without her. She was a liar, she had never loved him. She ran off with some douche bag and clearly didn't care about Alfred at all.

America said that it still hurt. Canada told him that it was okay to be upset.

Alfred was more mad than sad now, but he opted to not talk about it. Canada was alright with that. Now his brother was his again.
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Suicide by Proxy