The Man in the Drawing part 2

    I whipped around and glanced through the whole room. My eyes danced along the walls, floor and even the ceiling, until I heard a the sweet chime of a playful giggle. (e/c) orbs followed the sound to locate it, only to find that 2P England had returned to his spot in my drawing. Though his insane grin seemed more mischievous and sweet.
    "______, would you like me to grade it?" my teacher asked nicely, snapping me from my thoughts.
    "S-Sure.." I whispered and gave him a half-hearted smile.
    My teacher then gently grasped the drawing and stared. His light eyes were deciphering everything from the style to the way I colored the cupcake lover who stared back. "I give it an A+..."
    I smiled a little more as he handed me my drawing and I proceeded to sit at my assigned seat.
    Through the whole class I sat by myself, trying to think analytically as I stared at the swirling eyes in the  picture. Every so often I could have sworn he blinked, but it was usually a split second before I did. So I simply brushed it off at my eyes playing a trick on me.
    The rest of the day continued on like this until I got home.
    I had decided to hang the picture up with tape. Folding over the sticky strip to form a loop and placing one at each corner before placing it on my bedroom wall.
    My eyes dared to stare at it for longer than socially acceptable as I questioned him directly. "Are you real?"
    I didn't receive any type of response, though later that night I noticed he was missing again.
    I had already gotten into my pajamas and I slipped into bed, wishing I could fall asleep before the monster returned home. No, I don't mean 2P England when I say that.
    A loud bang could be heard from the front door as the beast sauntered up the stairs. His eyes always bore  aggression and his face was always twisted with wrath. He was my 'father'.
    No, I wasn't adopted.
    When I was around five years old me, my mom and my dad lived a happy life until the day a murdered stepped  in.
    It was one in the morning and I could go to sleep. The sound of blood-curdling screams had kept me awake.
    I was laying so that my eyes were shut and I was pretending to sleep. I didn't want the man to know I could hear his foot falls as he neared my bed.
    I heard him unsheathe his blade, but he never stuck me. Instead he sighed and I heard, what I presumed was, a knife hit the ground.
    I felt his arms wrap around me as he carried me away, back to his home.
    I wish he had just killed me, because now I'm simply tortured. He could and never can kill me. He doesn't have the guts. So instead he leaves me almost dead.
    I'm his little punching bag.
    I glanced back over at my drawing, where 2P England had returned , as I began to shake with nothing was sheer terror.
    The look the man in my drawing bore almost looked like pity, yet he kept his grin. It was his eyes the showed me his true emotion. Even though he knew not of what I feared, he pitied me.
    "_____..." the man growled as he opened my bedroom door. "Come here."
    I slowly let my feet dangle over the side of my bed and hit the floor. Straightening out my shaky legs, I made my way over to him with light foot falls. "Y-Yes?"
    It didn't take as long as usual for me to black out the night, maybe I'm growing weaker. But while I slept my ears picked up a soft tune. It was soothing and the accent was hypnotic. I felt a gentle hand sweep through my hair and heard a soft sniffle every so often.
    Maybe I dreamt that, for when I woke up that Saturday morning I was alone again.
    My eyes made the way to the drawing, only to find him missing again. My (e/c) orbs proceeded around the room, looking for something that would tell me it wasn't a dream. And there it was, on my night stand. A cupcake with blue and pink frosting, sprinkled on top was chocolate shavings.
    I slowly reached out and gently grasped the baked good in my left hand. When I unwrapped it I found it to be chocolate.
    Slowly I bit into the chocolate cake and savored the flavour. Letting my brain send out signals of that lovely hormone named dopamine. The happy hormone.
    It numbed the pain my sore aching body. But all too soon the lovely little frosted cupcake was gone.
    I looked over to my drawing, as if it were a window to a new world, and whispered hoarsely. "Thank you."
    Again, I received no response.
    I sighed and reached under my bed to grab my sketchbook. Feeling around for the spiral bound black book I finally found it and pulled it out. I placed it on my lap and reached into my night stand drawer, pulling out a small bag.
    Unzipping the small bag I found my typical drawing pencils and little sharpener while I opened my  sketchbook to a fresh page.
    I tapped the end of my pencil against my bottom lip as I began to let my imagination wander. Soon it settled on me drawing a cupcake with a jagged knife resting behind it. All of this was sitting on a reflective table.
    When I finished it didn't look right, and I soon realized it was the knife that was throwing me off. I was never very good at foreshortening.
    I then proceeded to erase the knife to make it look better, but as I did so I heard a sweet giggle. Knowing now where it was coming from I looked at the drawing that hung on my boring wall.
    "Something funny?" I questioned the grinning man. A genuine smile of my own took form on my saddened face where a fake one usually sat.
    I shook my head when I got no response and giggled softly. "You'll never answer me...."
    I heard shifting papers and looked back to see he had left again. "But I know you're real..."
    After waiting a few moments I returned back to my drawing and finished my little edit. Then proceeding to stare at it saying that it was presentable, while I turned to a new page and began a different sketch.
    The day went on like this and soon enough came the time where I was cuddling back under my covers,  begging for warmth.
    When I finally drifted into a peaceful dream.
    The warm sun drenched my (s/t) skin as I sat on an old swing in a park. In my hands was a lovely little baked good with orange frosting and pink sprinkles.
    "You're so cute~" a thick British accent chimed and I turned to meet the loving blue eyes of 2P England.
    "Th-thanks..." I whispered almost too softly.
    He moved closer and sat on the swing next to meet, giving me a warm smiled. The swing creaked as he began to pump his legs and giggle cutely.
    His happiness must have been contagious because I began to smile and copy his movements.
    He began to hum a sweet tune he swung higher and higher.
    I never swung as high as him, for fear that the precious cupcake on my lap would fly away.
    "I'd like to give you this." my cheeks turned red as I bashfully handed him the cupcake.
    Just as his finger tips graced the side of the gift I presented to him I woke up.
    Morning sun drifted in through my window and I looked over to my drawing. "Good morning Arthur...."