Alright, I got the first chapter finished and yes, I've been nothing but lazy for a long time now! Surprisingly, I got this one done first instead of the Kanata one. Hopefully no one forgot about the story yet and I hope that you all enjoy this! I know I will! }:-D Mwa ha ha ha ha! I am SO going to Hell for this!

This wasn't my idea to be here, it was Canada's. Apearantly I have "some issues that I need to talk about." And a therapist was the frozen hockey-nuts first choice. The dude's just saying that I'm crazy and that's really started to piss me off. No matter what excuse he puts on it like "I've been trying to help you open up and express your feelings in a non-violent way for years" or "It's healthier to just talk about your feelings instead of just blowing things up or invading other countries." Psh, whatever.

What was this guy doing anyways? All he's done in the past half hour I've been here is ask me how my day went and then started asking me how everything makes me "feel." And then writing down in his notebook everytime I talk. Is he playing tick-tack-toe with himself or something? Man, this guy is just irritating. He's not even listening to me! After telling him how I felt about how this stupid secion was going he just sat there calmly and started to write more down in his notebook.

"Do something interesting already!" I yelled at him. "What about hypnotizing me or show me those inkblot things that all look like butterflys or something! I'm going to die of bordom here!"

"Is that what you want to do?" he asked in that same calm voice that was giving me a headache and at the same time creeping me out. It was like he was Russia or something!

"Yes!" I shouted. "Anything! Just stop asking me how stuff makes me feel!"

"All right then," he said. I let out a sigh of releif until I saw that he had started writing in that damned notebook again. 'WHAT THE FUCK IS HE WRITING IN THAT?!'

"Unfortunatelly," he said closing the notebook and setting it down in his lap. "I'm aftaid that I don't have any rorschach tests with me today. But we could try hypnosis if you really want to."

I raised an eyebrow to this. I was just joking about the whole hypnosis thing but what the hell? Why not? It was the only half-interesting thing I'd heard in this whole thing. "Cool, so how do we do this?" I asked. "I mean, I don't really believe in hypnosis or anything; but man, at least now I can tell people that someone tried to hypnotise me! This is gonna be awesome!"

He opened up his notebook one last time to scribble something down before he sat it on the table next to him. "Alright, lie down on the loveseat and take some deap breaths to try and relax," he told me. I got up from my chair and crossed the room to the loveseat that it seemed like all therapists had in their offices. When I sat down I realized that it was probably the most comfortable thing in the room. I layed my head back on the soft, plush cushion and closed my eyes as I started to take deep breaths. "Can you hypnotise me now?" I asked opening an eye after a few breaths.

He was only about two feet from the me with his notebook in his hand again. "How about trying to take ten deep breaths and I'll see if you need to take more," he told me. I did as he said and started counting. '1.. .2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7... 8... 9... 10. Hey, this is pretty relaxing.' "Good," he said. I could hear more scribbling. "Now I want you to listen to what I'm going to say and just stay as calm as you can." His voice was sounding so smooth and level I was wondering if this guy wasn't a real therapist and Russia had sent him to me.

"You're floating," he said calmly. "And as you float longer, all the tention in your body is being washed away with the calm breeze around you." I could actually feel it. I was floating. I could feel the breeze. "You're surrounded by clouds. You're as light as a feather and you feel the wind is carrying you softly through them." 'How is this guy doing this?' "Are you relaxed Alfred?"

"Yes," I answered without meaning to.

"Good. Now take ten more deep breaths. With every one of these you will feel the last drops of stress and tension drip down and out of your body." 'One... two...' "The tension is draining out of your head and neck." 'Three... four...' "From your shoulders, chest, and upper arms." 'Five... six...' "Your forarms down to your fingertips and on through your back and down to your waist." 'Severn... eight...' "Gone from your waist to your knees." 'Nine... ten...' "And finally, your lower legs and down out from the souls of your feet and the tips of your toes."

I had never been this relaxed and stress free in my entire life. I was floating still and everything in the world was gone. Nothing else existed besides me, the clouds, and the breeze that was carrying me. "You are so relaxed that you don't want to move a single muscle in your body. Now Alfred, I want you to open your eyes in your mind and look at the clouds around you." I opened my imaginary eyes and saw that I was indeed floating through the sky. There was no ground underneath me, but a thick layer of clouds with no openings to the earth under them. The clouds seemed so plush and inviting.

"Alferd, there is a door in front of you. There is no peap hole or window on it. Only a red, wooden door with a brass knob and lock. " It appeared in front of me. A red door with only the knob and lock. I didn't know what was behind it. It seemed harmless enough but it was off-putting, such a huge, solid contrast to the clouds around and under it. "How does this door seem to you Alfred? Is it inviting?"

"No," I said automatically. "I don't know what's behind it. Something important might be behind it but I don't know what it is. I want to know but.." I trailed off not knowing what to say. "I feel like I've seen what's behind it before but I don't remember; the door or what's behind it." More scribbling noise.

"Open the door, Alfred." I reached over and took hold of the knob but it wouldn't turn.

"It's locked," I told him.

"Just as I thought," he said in reply. "Reach into your pocket, Alfred. The key is in there." It was. It was a large key but not one like people had today. It was old; the end was bolky with two rectangles that hung off of it. It looked like it weighed about a pound but it was as light as I felt. I insurted the key into the lock and turned it until I heard and felt a loud click from the mechanism.

"It fits," I told him.

"Good. Behind the door is something imporant, Alfred; something that you forgot over the years. Now open the door, Alfred. See what it is that you've forgoten."

I opened the door and I was struck dumb by what I saw.

Standing only a few feet from the now opened door I saw myself. My younger self. I couldn't have been more than 60 at the time but I looked about 3 maybe 4. My younger self was facing away from me-towards something that was slowly resurfacing in my mind as I watched it.

In front of me was England. He sat on his old bed that he had when we still lived together. The covers were pulled up over his legs but they didn't cover what needed to be covered. I never thought I'd see this-nor did I want to. He sat on his bed with some kind of lube dripping down his hand as he masterbated.

That wasn't what shocked me the most though. Oh no. The worst was that through the moans and pants he let out into the open air above him, he was saying my name. Over and over-getting louder each time.

He took a half-glance to the doorway that I stood in beofre turning back. After only half a moment did his face turn to one of shock and I thought that he must have seen me standing there in front of the world of clouds behind me.

"Enwand?" my younger self asked. He stood stalk-still for a second before rushing to cover himself. "What are you doing?"

"N-nothing!," he almost shouted in panic.

My younger self cocked his head to the side innocently. "Your lieing," he said simply. He crossed his arms and stuck out his bottom lip stubbornly.

In that moment, something in England's deminore changed. I couldn't put my finger on it but it was almost like he was more relaxed now. "All right then," he said. "You've caught me. Come up here and I'll tell you."

He spoke with slured words like he'd been drinking. I suddenly smelled that there was a wauffed stench of cheap beer in the room as I saw the blonde child try to climb onto the bed. England seemed impatiant though and grabbed hold of my nightshift to jank me onto the bed. The small child landed head-first and the gown had floan up to reviele a distinct lack of underclothes.

"Take off your clothes," England rassped harshly. The child sat up and looked confused.

"Why," he asked.

"Do you want to find out or not," the elder hissed through clenched teeth. The younger looked frightened by this.

"Maybe I should just go back to bed," he said easing his way back to the bedside. 'Yes! For the love of God get out of this room!' England wasn't having it though. He grabbed hold of the childs' arm and flung him underneath him so that he hovered drunkenly over him. He screamed from the pain in his arm but England either didn't hear it or didn't care.

He planted a sloppy, rough kiss on his lips before starting to trail them up and down his tiny body. He didn't even bother to take the clothing off but instead grabbed hold of the front with both hands and ripped it open. He bit down harshly into his neck. The frail child screamed out again from the new pain being inflicted.

As the poor, naked colony started to cry, England reached down a hand and started to jerk himself off while trailing lower with his kisses a short way to wrap his lips around the tiny limp member. He was a child! A child that had blood coming from his neck! That was being molested! That was begging and pleading for this to stop happening to him! 'But... the kid is me...' I was frozen.

England let go of the todlers extremities with a loud 'pop.' He crained his head up to the child's ear and started to whisper but I could hear his every raspy word as clear as day. "If you do as I tell you, I'll stop being so rough." I let out a simultanious shudder with my smaller self as I felt his breath on the shell of my ear as well.

"O-ok," he studdered out in a voice that seemed high-pitched and broken even for a child. Tears were rolling down his face from red, puffy eyes. After that everything that I saw was like being in one of those 4D movie theaters. You know, the ones where the chairs move with the screen and air is blown in your face to make it feel like you're experienceing everything that's in the movie.

But I could feel everything that he was doing to the child.

I felt it when he kissed the smaller me.

I gagged when I felt the tongue being forced down his windpipe.

My scalp ach when his hair was pulled and felt the sickening pressure in my hands when he made the younger me touch him. I could feel the wet precum coat my hands. I felt his hands over mine as he made me tighten my grip.

I gagged again and felt my jaw ach when he forced me to give him a blowjob.

I felt the incredible pain as he stretched and prepared me and the worst pain of all... when he raped me.

'England... raped me. He raped me.'

My own tears fell in time with my younger selves. This couldn't have happened. This was some kind of sick joke. When I get out of there I'm gonna beat the shit out of this fucked up therapist and demand an explaination.

"There's nothing to expain, Alfred," I heard his voice say. 'How can he hear what I'm thinking?!' "Because you're thinking out loud, Alfred," he answered me. "Turn around and walk out of the door, but don't lock it," he said. As I turned away I could feel the pressure in my backside as Englands shot his load inside me. I walked out the door and closed it behind me as the noise in the room had finally stopped.

I was in the world of clouds again now, but it seemed like they were mocking me more than comforting me. I wanted to leave. "You will, Alfred." My eyes started to sting from the tears. "I want you to count backwards from 10-slowly. With every number the breaze will faid along with the clouds around you and you will feel more aware of your surroundings." '10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1.'

I opened my eyes to find that everything I saw was fuzzy and I had to blink away some of the still-remaining tears before I could see that I was back in the therapy room on the loveseat. The tears on my face were real. The man known as Dr. Samson Johnson sat beside me with a tissue offered in my direction. I ignored it. I lifted Texas from my eyes long enough to wipe my face with the sleave of my jacket before putting the lenses back in place, standing, and walked out the door to the office without saying anything else to Dr. Johnson.

Yep, I'm definatly going to Hell. Then again, I knew that when I wrote the prequil to this so no surprise there!

And there wasn't really anything bad in here that you guys didn't read in that. Tell me what you think about how the first chapter went in the reviews and tell me what direction you think I should go in with it because unless I get some kind of motivation from readers, this will NEVER get more chapters and I have something morbidly horrible in mind to do that all you sickos like me will love.

Also, I don't have any spellcheck so if you guys could tell me if I messed up somewhere that would be great! I'm good with constructive criticism so say whatever you like in the comments! Even if you don't like the story go ahead and tell me how you feel! (P.S. It might just incourage me!)

The idea I have on how to take this story is kinda short to be honest so give me some ideas for more chapters too! Also I'm finishing this chapter at 1:42a.m. and I'm tired as fuck.