TheObsessedWriter: Hello people of fanfiction! I am back from the dead and hopefully things will go back on track for me and writing. I actually got a laptop from my mother and I absolutely love her for getting me one. I also graduated, so I am free from high school and will soon be in college. Now on to what is actually important...
I know I shouldn't be starting another story as I have other ones that I need to finish considering my long hiatus, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. More information will be located at the end of the chapter.
PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE AT BOTTOM!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or P.T. Silent Hill
Chapter 1
Lisa
It was like I could feel nothing...almost as if I was floating on air without a care in the world. Nothing could harm me, like I was protected by a shield that nothing could get past. I wish this is what the real world was like, but I was only allowed this protection in my dreams. A place that I could escape reality and only focus on things that gave me happiness...
England...
I twitched in my bed that voice seemed to follow me everywhere. Couldn't the bloody idiot leave me alone in my own dreams!?
England!
I rolled over as I tried to ignore the pestering voice and return back to sleep, who knows what the hour was. However, as I tried to go back to sleep, images appeared in front of my eyes. They moved too fast for me to make out what they were, but I noticed a familiar head of blonde hair amongst most of them. Why would he be in these images? In fact, what were these 'visions' anyway?
Arthur...help...
My eyes snapped open at the weak plea along with my human name. Countries never used their human names to address each other unless there was a close relationship between the involved countries. America had stopped calling me Arthur a long time ago...
Why? Why did I see those images that seemed to slip through my fingers before I had a chance to make sense of them? Why were all of them centered on America? So many questions that I had no answers to. I guess the next best plan of action was to contact the git, and, although I hate to admit it, because I was worried about him. Not many of the countries believed I have magic, but it has never lead me astray. There's a reason for everything as they say. I pushed myself into a sitting position, the blanket falling from my body to rest back on top of the mattress. Glancing at the clock, the numbers read 8:32 A.M. which meant according to the time difference between London and New York, it was 3:32 A.M. for America.
My phone was placed in front of the clock, an iPhone, as America insisted that I change from the simple flip phone I had before, stating I needed to keep up with modern times and technology. It took me awhile to understand how to work it, but I still see no reason why I had to change my phone just for the sake that it was one of the newest models out there. Was it worth it calling him, just to make sure he was fine? Would it justify me waking him in the middle of the night just so that it would put my mind at ease? For all I know, the git could be playing one of his silly video games, hyped up on caffeine and sugar. To hell with it, I reached out and grabbed the phone, intent on calling the American.
I remained sitting on my bed as I scrolled through my contacts, searching for America's number before hitting the call button. Holding the phone to my ear, I heard the phone ring, and waited patiently for the lad to answer. It rang a couple times before I was directed to the voicemail.
Hello, this is the Hero! Sorry, I can't answer the phone as I am saving the world. Leave a message and I will get back to you right away!
The message was followed by a beep, allowing me to leave a recorded message. I guess the idiot was actually asleep, surprising considering how often he stays up late.
"America, its England. Please call me back right after you get this message." I sighed deeply as I ended the call. I fell back on to the bed with a light thump, placing the phone right next to me as I stared up at the ceiling.
There was no reason to be worried. He was probably just asleep for once actually, and I was getting worked up with no real evidence that anything was wrong with America. The last time I saw him was at a G8 meeting three months ago, and he looked just fine to me. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Resisting the urge to sigh again, I got up from my place on the bed and realized that it would be best that I get ready for the day. I could always call him later when the time was actually decent for the young American. Walking over to my dresser, I pulled out the clothes I would wear before heading over to the bathroom to take a shower. I closed the door behind me and had set my clothes on top of the toilet before looking into the mirror. Emerald eyes stared back as I thought about the unsettling dream that had occurred. Was I worrying myself over nothing? I shouldn't concern myself with my former colony, he was grown and proved that he could take care of himself before. I guess it was just brotherly instinct that was taking over whether I liked it or not.
Turning away from the reflective glass, I turned on the water to a relatively warm temperature before removing my sleep clothes and stepping into the steady spray of water. I cleaned myself quickly before stepping out and drying with one of the towels. Before I had the chance to change into my clothes, I heard the loud ringtone that signaled to me that I had a message. I wrapped the towel around my waist before leaving the bathroom to go to my bedroom. The phone was exactly where I had left it on the bed and I picked it up before turning it on to see the message.
Expecting it to be a response from America, I opened the text message, but frowned slightly when I saw it was from an unknown person. There was no number, only said that it was unknown. I opened the message and scanned over the words.
You weren't the only one to see the visions. All the other countries saw them as well and you will all be involved soon. Tell me, how well do any of you know America? What does he really do outside of those meetings?
What? I wasn't the only one to see those strange images? The only thing in the message that worried me slightly was what the unknown person implied. That we really didn't know America as well as we thought. How could we not, he practically told all of us what he did every day. If anything, America should be the one to not know us well. The best thing I could do now was to ignore the message until I got all the facts straight, no need to rush to conclusions. I tossed the phone back onto the bed before heading back to the bathroom to change into some clothes. A few minutes later, I walked out of the bathroom in clean clothes back into my bedroom. I grabbed the phone before putting in my right pocket and placed my night clothes messily on the bed.
Before I could head to the kitchen to make myself something to eat, my vision darkened around the edges, threatening to bring me back to unconsciousness. I shook my head a couple times to clear the feeling, a few droplets falling from my damp, blonde hair, but spots appeared before my eyes. If anything, the dizziness only got worse and so had my breathing. Since when did it seem like my lungs had been filled with water? I was forced down to my knees as I turned so that my back could lean against the beige wall. My eyesight was beginning to come in and out of focus and my lungs felt like someone had set them on fire. Eventually, I faded into darkness.
...
I slowly woke up to the feeling that someone had taken sledgehammer and used it to bash my head in a couple of times. My eyes fluttered open a couple of times before I could keep them open. Groaning, I pushed myself up halfway so that I could take in my surroundings. I looked all around me, and felt my breath stop in my throat. I could make out the slumped over figures of the countries that laid unconscious on the floor...if it could even be considered that.
The whole area felt like a black hole, you couldn't make out anything besides the figures on the floor, and you couldn't see any floor or walls. It seemed like you could walk in one direction forever and not make any destination or hit any wall or stopping point. Slowly I began to stand shakily on my feet before my attention was drawn to the moaning of the other people in the room. It seemed like everyone was beginning to wake up, but they will be in for a shock when they discover where we are.
"Ugh, what the 'ell 'appened?" I could already feel annoyance start to settle in as I heard the frog's voice. Of course he would be the first one to wake up, it couldn't be someone sensible like Germany or even Japan.
"Well frog, if I didn't know any better I'd say that even you should know the situation we are in right now." I responded in the most mocking voice I had.
"What was that!? Do you 'ave any idea where we could possibly be, black sheep!?"
"I told you to stop calling me that you French bastard!" I grabbed him by the collar of his blue cape, effectively choking him.
Before we could get any further in our argument, we were separated by a swing of a metal pipe. Both us jump apart before we could be hit, only one person would carry a pipe on them and we turned to face Russia who held a seemingly innocent smile on his face, but the aura he was admitting was very contradicting to his expression.
"How about we try not to fight, comrades? We must try to figure out where we are first, da?" Russia raised his pipe up, as if to intimidate us, needless to say it work.
France and I both glanced at each other before turning our attention back on to the frightening Russian in front of us. We both silently agreed that it was best not to anger the large Russian man that could easily knock us both out with that pipe of his.
"Oui, I apologize for our behavior, Russia." France practically rushed the words out of fear.
"You're right, Russia, its best that we figure out where we are first." I spoke, out of fear and out of common sense. It was in our best interest that we figure out where we were so that we could get out of here.
Russia looked us both over before returning to the other countries that were slowly picking themselves off of the floor. France and I sent a glare towards each other before rejoining the group to help. Germany was already at the front of the large group, counting the number of countries present, as he was sort of the unofficial leader in these types of situations. The only other one that would try to take charge would be America, shouting at the top of his lungs that 'He was the Hero' and it was a part of his job. The stubborn idiot, I could already hear him...wait, actually I didn't hear anything that sounded remotely like him. I looked around me a couple of times, France giving me a questioning look when I glanced in his direction.
"Where's America?" I asked, referring to everyone that was near that also seemed to share my confusion. We all began to look around us, searching for the familiar blonde hair and brown, leather bomber jacket the boy always wore. It was rare to see him without it, like it was a part of him.
"Has anyone seen America? What about you England seeing as you were the first one up." Germany focused his blue eyes on me like I was the one that had all the answers just because I was the first one up.
"I haven't seen the git since the last meeting me had. I tried calling him before we all appeared here, but all I got was voicemail. If he was here, he left before I woke up." I answered, he accepted my answer before addressing the other countries.
"It seems like America is the only one missing then. We have to figure out where we are and then come up with a strategy on how to escape."
"Germany~ Germany~ I'm scared! This place is so dark and scary." I watched as Italy latched himself on to Germany's left arm, clutching the fabric of his military jacket. The auburn haired man had tears already appearing in his tightly closed eyes. How was he a country again?
I could see that his older twin brother, Romano, also known as South Italy, glare at Germany in annoyance, but didn't say anything. The glare on Germany was short lived before it turned on Spain as the cheerful, curly haired brunette enveloped the temperamental Italian in a hug. The latter trying to push the Spaniard away from him, which appeared to be useless.
"Stupid American would leave us on our own without warning." I heard China mutter under his breath before I could feel my anger flare up. America may be an idiot sometimes, but he wouldn't abandon us on our own. However, I just ignored the Chinese man's comment before I noticed a light in the corner of my eye.
"Am I the only one to see a light over there, or am I imagining it?"
Most-if not all-the countries turned towards me before looking in the direction that I was. Sure enough, there was a faint, blue glow that floated in one spot. We all shared a look between each other before I slowly headed toward it. Despite how dangerous it might be, it was better than just standing around, waiting for something to happen. Behind me the others followed, who knows, it might even lead us to America. The only sounds were the echoing of all our footsteps on the dark floor and the soft whimpering from Italy as he held on to Germany. Immediately behind me was France, standing a little too close to me for comfort. I was about to tell him off, but suddenly the blue ball of light disappeared.
We all froze, wondering what was about to happen. Suddenly, it was like we were in a movie theater as in front of us it began to lighten up much like a screen that was about to show a movie.
"This is so unawesome! What the hell is going on!?" The former country known as Prussia exclaimed, pulling on his white hair in confusion about the current events. Just what was going on?
Suddenly, white text appeared on the screen in front of us. Seeing that no one was going to read aloud what was written, I took on the job.
"All of you seem to think that you know what America is really like, but do you really? In actuality, there is more than you know. How many of you know what he does outside of meetings and politics? None of you do." Just what was being implied here?
I resumed reading what was appearing, "America, Alfred F. Jones has a special job that he does that none of you know about. You all shall watch from the beginning to what has currently happened in order to understand."
It remained silent within the room, as I finished reading. No one knew how to take what was just read. What job? And from the beginning? How long had America done this job? Were we about to watch memories of these events? So many questions, and I had a feeling that we were about to get all our answers. Knowing we had little choice but to watch whatever that was about to be shown, we slowly retreated down to the floor. All of us forming our own little groups of people we were most comfortable with. The Axis and Allies was one along with Prussia so Germany could watch him, the Nordics were another, Austria, Hungary, Spain, and Romano was another. Russia's sisters Belarus and Ukraine were seated with Belgium and Netherlands, Liechtenstein and Switzerland was another as Switzerland didn't allow anyone near his little sister. The Baltic countries were another group, Greece, Turkey, and Egypt was another one and surprisingly there was no fighting among Greece and Turkey and both were being very focused. The last group consisted of Hong Kong, South Korea, and Cuba.
The screen began to play something and all of us leaned forward in anticipation. However we were shocked to see America unconscious on a concrete floor in what appeared to be a small room. However, we remained silent and proceeded to watch with careful eyes.
America began to regain consciousness, shaking his head before pushing himself into a standing position. He looked around the room in confusion about his location, knowing he didn't belong here.
"What the hell? Where the hell am I!?" He continued to evaluate the room, noticing cockroaches walk across the floor and walls.
Watch out. The gap in the door...it's a separate reality.
The only me is me. Are you sure the only you is you?
The voice made him jump as he looked around for a source, but found none. Ignoring the bugs, he proceeded to the only door available within the room. Slowly turning the knob, America pushed the door open to enter what appeared to be a hallway of a normal house. As he enter, he closed the door behind him and cautiously walked forward, hearing what sounded like a radio playing.
"Hello? Is somebody living here? I'm a little lost." He called out ahead, testing to see if anyone was actually home. No response came as America waited before he decided to keep moving forward.
The hallway was very simple, continuing straight before making a right that led to who knows where. America wasn't very interested in finding out, but knew that he had little choice. America walked slowly, passing an inside plant on his right as well as a clock that displayed 23:59 in red numbers, meaning it was a minute until midnight, military time. The further he walked, the louder the radio got and he stopped to listen to it. It apparently was a police report, and when he heard it, he really wished he hadn't.
We regret to report the murder of the wife and her two children by their husband and father, the father purchased the rifle used in the crime at his local gun store two days earlier. This brutal killing took place while the family was gathered at home on a Sunday afternoon. The day of the crime, the father went to the trunk of his car, retrieved the rifle, and shot his wife as she was cleaning up the kitchen after lunch.
When his ten-year-old son came to investigate the commotion, the father shot him, too. His six-year-old daughter had the good sense to hide in the bathroom, but reports suggest he lured her out by telling her it was just a game. The girl was found shot once at point blank range.
The mother, who he shot in the stomach, was pregnant at the time. Police arriving on-scene after neighbors called 911 found the father in his car, listening to the radio. Several days before the murder, neighbors say they heard the father repeating a sequence of numbers in a loud voice. They said it was like he was chanting some strange spell.
There was another family shot to death in the same state last month, and in December last year, a man used a rifle and meat cleaver to murder his entire family. In each case, the perpetrators were fathers. State police say the string of domestic homicides appears unrelated, though it could be part of a larger trend, such as employment, childcare, and other social issues facing the average family.
America looked like he was going to be sick once the report was finished, especially as the reader read it in such a monotone, uncaring tone didn't help much.
"How could anyone do that to their own family!?" America growled out, hands clenching at his sides. "Why would anyone in their right mind believe that it would be okay to do that!? They were just children!"
We all looked we were about to be sick ourselves, but the pure anger that showed through America's voice surprised, and frightened, us as well. No family should have to go through that, and you would have to be insane to be the one to do it yourself. The atmosphere within the abandoned, empty house was very tense and definitely had an air of mystery, as well as it being a very creepy place.
Pushing down the anger that was boiling over, he continued walking down the hallway only to stop at a table that was placed against the wall on the left and was faintly lit with the hall light. There was a radio turned slightly with the antenna up, most likely broadcasting the police report. At the right end of the table was a framed photo that was taken during a wedding that held the happy couple. Between both ends was an ash tray that had a couple butt ends of cigarettes, a key ring that held keys, some matches, and an opened bar of chocolate that had a couple pieces missing. The only strange thing was that a thick layer of dust rested on top of the table and all the objects on it.
"This place has got to be abandoned..." America muttered, picking up the ring of keys, "No one leaves their house without their keys first of all, and plus, just look at all this dust. It looks like no one has touched this place in forever."
America returned the keys back to their rightful place before observing the rest of the hall way. Framed pictures littered the walls, but all were blurry, making you unable to see what they were. He turned right and walked to what seemed like an entry way with potted plants on either side of a door on the left side. A creaking noise sounded throughout the hall and he quickly looked around for the source. Noticing his shadow move slightly, America looked up to see the chandelier move side to side, the creaking noise matching its rhythm.
"Really? That's what's making all that noise?" America exhaled before moving toward what he guessed was the front door. He turned the knob slowly only to find that he couldn't turn it far, it being locked. Now how was he supposed to get out? This had to be the only exit. He tried the knob a couple more times before giving up and walking to the other door at the end, passing a staircase on his way. Seeing no reason to go up when he was trying to find an escape.
Besides, the dusty stairs seemed to give off a creepy feeling, as if giving him a silent message not to go up to the next level. He turned his head back to the last door available on the first floor. Taking a deep breath in, America turned the door handle and pushed forward. To his surprise, the door actually opened and led him to a short hallway that had another wooden door at the end. Having little choice but to keep going in the same direction, he pushed the other door open and felt his heart stop in his chest.
The door opened to reveal the same hall way that he had just left. The same framed pictures, the same time of 23:59 in the same red numbers. He had just circled back to where he had just been without turning around. The door behind him closed, and as much as he pulled and pushed, the door refused to budge. It seemed like America was trapped within the unknown house.
"Wait one minute! Where the hell is he anyway!? This place hasn't answered anything!" I rose from my spot slightly in anger. If anything, the house only brought more questions.
"This place looks really scary...did America really walk through it before?" Italy was gripping tightly to Germany's arm, a frightened expression on his face.
Did he really walk in that building? Was there anything inside it? Was America hurt by anything?
Knowing that we weren't going to get any answers by talking, we went back to silence and watched as the events began to unfold in front of us. What would we learn from it?
Knowing that the hall had already been searched, America walked briskly and turned the corner to see the same entry way and staircase as well as an opened door at the end. He tried the front door one last time, but it remained lock and he headed toward the open door. Just as he was about a foot away from the door, it slowly shut itself closed. America jerked backwards from the door just as a squeak sounded behind him to reveal that the door that had knocks come from within earlier had now cracked open.
"I know that door was locked when I checked the first time, and it was definitely locked from the inside. Why do I get a bad feeling that this isn't a good idea to be here..."
The closer America got to the suddenly opened door, he saw a flood of cockroaches run from the inside, they scattered around on the walls and floor.
"I see, as soon as this door opens, all the cockroaches come flooding out. That really doesn't reassure me that there is anything good inside." He approached the door so that he could see within the crack, but was met with darkness. "As much as I don't want to go inside, I need to find a way out before I find something undesirable." From the outside, he could hear the loud cries of what was a baby.
As he reached for the door handle and stepped closer, there was movement from inside the room. All that was seen was what looked like to be the form of a woman that was deathly pale with dark hair that grabbed the knob and quickly slammed the door shut. America jumped so far back that his back hit the wall with a face that showed utter fear. His blue eyes were wide with fright and a hand held on to the front of his t-shirt in an iron grasp, the blood leaving his face. All he heard was the previously closed door creak open and he wasted no time running through it.
We all had released a scream of some sort when the unknown figure had slammed the door, some louder than others. All of us were in a form of shock to see what a fellow country had encountered, and we could already tell that the story was far from over as we watched America run, the look of terror on his face, the same look that we all shared. My concern rose for the boy as in the time that I had known him from when I first found him as a young colony to the man I knew today, he has never allowed his fear to show to others, putting on a brave front. However, right now as we watched the screen, I saw a person scared to death of what was happening right in front of him. I have a feeling we would all react very similar if we were put in the same situation as America.
"Germany! Germany! Please tell me that wasn't real! It was so scary!" Tears left Italy's eyes and he held on to the blonde German for dear life in a bone-crushing hug.
Even France had managed to latch himself on me, his face pale with fright, before I shrugged him off. No need for him to think I wanted his contact with me. I looked around to see that everybody had grabbed on to someone, seeking comfort from what looked like a ghoul of some sort. Even I had no idea what the creature could have possibly been, except for the fact that it took on a humanoid shape. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat before I forced myself to continue watching my former colony.
He slammed the door behind him with his back resting against the wood in the short, simple hallway before he slowly slid down to a sitting position. Cradling his head in his hands, America fought to keep his breathing under control, as well as fight back the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. However, his body betrayed him, as tears fell freely down his cheeks.
"W-what was that...that thing!?" America exclaimed, breathing harshly, "I don't-don't know what is w-was, but I gotta get out of here."
Counting slowly to ten within his head, he slowed down his breathing until it was back to normal. He had to repeat a couple of times before he was able to calm his racing heart. He stood on shaky legs before he forced himself to go through the door ahead.
It was what it had been before, the hallway looping over and over, no matter how many times he entered through the same door. He took enough deep breath before walking forward through the same hall. 23:59 still remained on the clock as he passed it, making to turn around the corner before he stopped in his tracks. As he had turned, he had caught a glimpse of something in the middle of the entry way, under the swinging chandelier, before he reversed away. His heart beat began racing once again as he slowly peeked around the corner, confirming his fear.
A lone, white figure stood, leaning slightly to its left, under the light. It seemed to be facing towards the young American, but refused to move. Able to see more of the creature, there was more signs that it was a woman. Was being the key term. Despite being paper white, and hideously deformed, it wore a dirtied, white dress that had long sleeves and went to its ankles. There was, however, a large blood stain around the stomach area and the figure was very lanky and tall. It almost reached where the chandelier swung, but in no way did it seem friendly.
"What the hell do I do!? I can't kill whatever it is, I have no weapon on me. Is it just gonna stand there!?" He muttered harshly to himself.
Working up the courage on just running around the creature before it could attack him, America took a step forward. The second he stepped forward, the light flashed a couple times, the figure not moving, before all light in the entry way just disappeared. America stood frozen in shock before he knew that he had to move fast. He bolted through the darkness, intent on finding the door and making a break for it. Arms waving through the dark room, he quickly found the knob and pushed the door open before shutting it behind him. Ignoring the fear that tried to resurface, America continued through the repeatedly seen door into the hallway that had turned into a nightmare. However, he remained unsure on what would be around the corner when he would turn right. Would the creature be there? Would it be closer than it was before? He peeked from around the corner, his face barely showed, but you were able to see blonde strands of hair if you looked from the other side. As he looked, he noticed with great with relief that the creature had disappeared from sight, but it brought more problems to mind. What if it wanted to draw him into a feeling of security just to attack him later? What if it was waiting for him behind the door he would go through? What if it was waiting on the staircase just so that he couldn't see it? So many what ifs…
He couldn't stand here and debate about it and risk getting himself killed…wait, could he die? Countries were immortal as long as they had people to represent, that's why there was personifications of countries in the first place. They represented the people, the cultures and beliefs that they all shared and carried. Shaking his head, he continued on through the hall at a slow, cautious pace. The door that was shut by the creature was now wide open on his right. There seemed to be movement from within with shadows flickering across the wall that was visible to him from his place a couple steps away. Knowing he couldn't walk back from where he came from, America approached the door and almost jumped when he looked inside. On the floor laid a flickering flashlight. He walked in and bent down to receive the only source of light he found that wasn't attached to the walls or ceiling.
He clicked the power switch on the flashlight before it went from flickering to a continuous light that reflected on the tiled wall, cockroaches scattering from the light. Before he could have time to react, the door behind him swung shut. America dashed toward the door, hysterically pulling on the handle for an escape. Suddenly, the cries of an infant could be heard from inside the room which froze America on the spot. He slowly turned around and glanced all over the room, which was a bathroom, looking for a crying child. From the door, there was a white bath tub to his right and a sink and toilet to his left, along with a cabinet with a mirror above the sink. All of the bathroom was in desperate need of cleaning as mold seemed to cover every inch within.
America walked to the sink, avoiding looking in the mirror to see what might be behind him, when cries forced him to look in the sink. What he saw made bile rise to the back of his throat before he swallowed it back down.
What we saw made all of want to throw up ourselves. It was disturbing to look at from where we were, who knows what it was like for America.
A fetus laid in the sink, a bloody mess staining the once white sink by the drain. If observed closely, you would be able to tell that it was very premature. The legs and arms had just started forming and there were no eyes for the baby to see, but the mouth had formed and loud wails could be heard. The neck was stretched longer than what a normal fetus had and a nose was beginning to form on the face.
America stumbled away from the sink, hand covering his mouth to stop from throwing up and tears streaming down his face. Why? Why was he forced to live through this? What had he done to deserve this!? He tried to calm himself, but jumped in fear when footsteps began echoing throughout the hall outside the door…heading toward the bathroom. With each step that echoed, the cries of the fetus only grew louder, calling for its mother.
"No! Shut up!" America panicked, wildly looking from the sink to the door, "You're leading it straight to where I am!"
His heart stopped dead in his chest when the footsteps stopped, and the door handle slowly turned itself from the outside force. He backed himself against the grimy wall, his breathing becoming erratic and his pulse sky-rocketing. The door handle was pulled multiple times, but the door didn't open, like something was keeping the creature out. He walked near the door, turning his attention on the wall behind the bath tub, focusing on a hole in the wall. Peering closer to the hole, something was reflected by the flashlight, a glare coming off of it every few seconds before stopping.
"That was definitely an eye! The way it reflected the light, almost blinking, but it was completely black…"
A creaking noise soon followed and he turned around with lightning speed to see the door to the hallway open just a crack. He took a deep breath before venturing out into the hall. Not even daring to take a look behind him, he made a mad dash for the door to continue the never ending loop of the hallway.
When he walked into the same hallway, it was almost completely dark and that frightened him. He took small, slow steps and neared the table that had the radio, which had been turned on again.
Don't touch that dial now, we're just getting started.
America made his way to turn the radio off as it didn't help with his current situation, but the next phrase made his arm freeze in mid-air.
Look behind you…
I said, look behind you…
The phrase made a shiver run up America's spine, but he refused to look behind him, knowing he wasn't going to like what he saw. Walking away from the radio down the hall, America kept going straight without looking behind himself. The radio, however, kept saying strange phrases that faded the further he walked away.
You can't trust the tap water.
204863…
He walked through the door into a new loop, the hallway remained dark like it was, no lights being turned back on. He walked forward, his flashlight allowing him to see where he went and was about to pass the table in the foyer when something caught his attention. By the radio was the same photo of the married couple, but it had a message scrawled on it in blue pen.
'Gouge it out!' was written above the couple's heads, but a large 'X' was beneath the female figure.
"What? Gouge what out? The only thing I can think of would be the eye, but I could be wrong. What purpose would that serve anyway!?"
Taking a quick look around, America picked up one of the matches, lighting it before burning out the right eye of the female in the picture. A loud creak resonated throughout the hall, the sign of a door being opened. He turned around to see that the door that led to a new loop was now wide open. Apparently, if he hadn't burned the eye out of the photo, he would have been stuck in this loop until he had found the way to open the door. America placed the picture back on the table before quickly making his way to and out the door. Entering the next loop, he crept in the hall through the foyer and stopped at one of the walls. Written upon the beige wall was another message that wasn't completed.
"I can hear them calling to me from-, calling from where? Actually, you know what, I think I'm better off not knowing. However, I get the feeling that I'll find out the answer whether I like it or not."
Finding nothing else that wasn't there before, he continued on to the next loop.
We all looked at each other, taking in America's reactions to his situation. If we didn't know better, we'd say that he was remarkably calm where he was, but no one could be if they were really trapped in a place like that. There was no one with him, so why was he so intent on looking brave and acting like this didn't affect him?
"England-san, you are watching this very closely, is something bothering you?" I heard Japan ask from my left, and all the Axis and Allies turned toward me for an answer.
"I'm just confused? Angry? I have so many emotions going through my mind and so many questions. Why is this happening to America first of all, and where is he anyway? Before we were all taken here I tried calling him only to get his voicemail, and before that I had very strange images in my dream."
"Strange images?"
"Yes, they moved too quickly for me to make any sense of them, but I recognized what I think was America in most of them. That was the reason I called him in the first place."
"That is very strange, but I don't think there is anything that you could do at the moment other than watch whatever is happening on the screen. It may give you more clues."
Nodding, I turned my attention back to the screen.
Something was off, America noticed, when he walked into the next loop. First off, the hallway was lit up in a strange, red glow that seemed to get brighter if he walked further down the hall and to the right. Did he want to get closer? Did he want to know where that red light might lead to? Grabbing a hold of whatever courage he had left, America quickly turned the corner where the red light seemed to originate from. Above him, where the chandelier had been swinging earlier was now replaced with a hanging refrigerator. Unknown liquid spilled from the lower corner of the refrigerator's door, but he could probably guess that it was blood. It's hard not to recognize blood with all the wars his country had gone too. Walking around where the blood was dripping on to the floor, he was about to walk to the door when muffled, childish screaming stopped him.
'No…that can't be coming from where I think it is.' Swallowing thickly, America looked up to where the fridge hung. His fears were now confirmed. The once still fridge was now shaking uncontrollably with muffled screaming, from what sounded like a little girl, that came from inside. The radio was turned on again, giving what sounded like more information from a police report.
After killing his family, the father hung himself with a garden hose they had in the garage.
However, as America listened, he could faintly hear a muffled voice say 'umbilical cord' where the radio had said 'garden hose'.
America's grip on the flashlight tightened, his knuckles turning white. Keeping his eyes forward, he rushed to the door, almost ripping it off its hinges in his haste to get out of the hall. In the new loop the red light remained, giving off an eerie atmosphere. He moved to the foyer, and stopped where the message was written on the wall…another word had been added.
"I can hear them calling to me from HELL…" America paled considerably, not liking the way that sounded, but he knew that the longer he stayed in this house the more likely his chance was on encountering the creature. Quickly passing the stairs, America walked through the door, through the short hallway back into the repeating hall. The red light remained, but there was no longer any screaming coming from the little girl.
Approaching where the front door was, he noticed with relief that the refrigerator no longer hung from the ceiling, but was replaced with a swinging red light. Despite that being the only change in the loop, he walked through the door into the next loop. When he entered the next loop, it felt as if he had been on some strong pain medication, the hallway had been distorted. Walking carefully, as it felt like he was on a rocking boat, he gripped on to the wall to keep his balance. However, to anyone else that was watching, the hallway was actually normal. America kept walking until he came across a fallen picture frame to his right that revealed a hole in the wall. Putting his face closer to the wall and peering through the hole, it looked into the bathroom.
"This is where that creature looked at me earlier from when I was in the bathroom." America whispered.
Pained moaning came from inside, and the radio echoed throughout the hall.
I've got a message for all you folks down there in radio land. Now's the time for action. Our society is rotten to the core.
Female screaming sounded from inside, but nobody could be seen. The screaming was cut short as the sound of metal and blood splattering the ground hit America's ears. The groaning continued a few seconds longer before it stopped.
I'm talking to all the fine, upstanding folks that got their welfare cut, got their jobs pulled out from under 'em. Yeah, you! You know what to do! Now's the time! Do it!
Stepping away from the peephole, writing was written on the wall above it. 'No turning back now.' A shiver racked America's body, whether from the sudden cold air or fear, he really didn't know. Continuing down the hall, the red light had now vanished and the foyer had a normal light. Passing the base of the stairs, he entered through the door to the never-ending loop filled with nightmares. When entering the hall it seemed brighter, but of course it would with that weird, red light now gone. Hopefully it wouldn't come back anytime soon. He walked through the hall, nothing was added at the front, so he continued onward. Passing the front entrance and the stairs to the door, he grabbed the handle and pulled. However, nothing happened. The door refused to budge from its locked state. Frowning, America tried a few more pulls before giving up and searching for some clue on how to get out. Searching the place, between both doors, he found nothing. He only took a few steps before voices assaulted his hearing.
I'm headed there now.
J'y suis dirigé maintenant.*
Olen otsikkona siellä nyt.*
Ich bin jetzt da geleitet.*
I'll call later.
Ti chiamo più tardi.*
Watashi wa atode denwa shimasu yo.*
Jag ringer senare.*
Trying to ignore all the voices that spoke in so many languages, America pushed forward to the door, fumbling with the knob. The moment he passed through the doorway, it was as if someone had pushed mute on all the voices at the same time. When all those voices had spoken, America didn't know how much longer he could have taken. He pushed the door open and walked through. So far it looked normal by the lighting, but who knows what he would find.
He neared where the clock was located, and noticed a portrait that looked like it was ripped into pieces. Knowing his luck, he had a feeling that his only way out of here was to locate each individual piece and put them in the frame with the lower right corner piece that had been left. America looked in his current area, searching for photo pieces and noticed a piece of paper among the discarded beer cans and bottles below the clock. Grabbing it, he put it in his right pocket on his jacket. Nothing more laid on the floor, so he checked the vase that was to the right of the clock which held a potted plant, which held another slip of paper.
Heading over to the table that held the radio on top of it, America searched for more of the photo. No paper was held on the table, but to his right was a window and when he looked out it he released a scream. Standing on the outside, pale arms leaning against the bars shielding the window was the creature. America stumbled backwards, but the figure resembling a woman remained where it was, however, it twitched rather violently as it leaned against the window. It was more grotesque up close, its eyes were black and stared right at America. The skin was as pale as a white sheet and the short, choppy hair was as black as ink. It was the face that was most disturbing because it held a hunger for the American that was trapped on the inside. Quickly glancing around, America saw a piece of the photo beneath the window. He looked between the window and the floor before ducking to grab the paper and backing away just as fast.
Refusing to look out the window anymore, he continued toward the bathroom and found another piece lodged in a ceiling beam between the foyer and the bathroom, which meant that he had found four pieces so far. There couldn't be too many more because all of the pieces were fairly large and the entire picture was pretty small. He passed the entrance door near the stairs and another piece was found at the base leading toward the door. Five pieces had to be enough, right? America headed back to where the clock was and took the frame off the wall. Slowly, he placed each of the pieces he found in the frame and felt terror freeze his insides. There was one piece still missing.
"But where would it be!? Unless…no way, it can't be up there. I refuse to go up the stairs to find the last damn piece. That is pretty much a death sentence." He placed the picture back where it was on the wall.
Taking a step back, he shoved his hands into his pants pockets, deciding whether or not to climb up the stairs. As the hall had been well-lit, the flashlight was turned off and placed in an inside pocket in his jacket, he may need it again.
About to start heading back toward the stairs, America felt something in his left pocket. Pulling it out, he almost cried in relief as it was the last piece of the photo. Having no idea how it got there, but not caring, he grabbed the frame and stuck the last piece in. Practically running to the door to start another loop, he stopped when a baby's laugh rang out. He was frozen in place, fear filling his mind, before he managed to take a few more steps. Another laugh resonated through the hall, and some instinct told him not to turn around. He stood his ground, goosebumps covering every inch of skin, but he did not turn around.
A sudden memory came to mind as he stood still near the table that held the radio and telephone, it was before he had begun this loop. In the short hallway that was through the door by the stairs, but before the door that begun each loop he had noticed something. Writing was now above the door that led to new loops.
I'm sorry, Lisa.
He didn't take much notice of it, as it seemed unimportant at the time, but now that he thought about it, maybe it was another clue. Taking a gamble that could either kill him or allow him to live, he said one simple phrase.
"Hello, Lisa."
A third baby laugh sounded after a few seconds before the phone began ringing, which nearly made America jump out of his skin. He looked at the phone, debating on if he should answer it or not, but it soon left a voicemail. A simple message that he knew was meant for him.
You have been chosen.
Deeming it safe to move, America walked around the corner, taking deep breaths to calm his racing nerves. The radio though had been turned on once more, not helping his mental state, but saying the final message it had. The message though was no police report.
Dad was such a drag. Every day he'd eat the same kind of food, dress the same, sit in front of the same kind of games… Yeah, he was just that kind of guy. But then one day, he goes and kills us all! He couldn't even be original about the way he did it. I'm not complaining…I was dying of boredom anyway, but guess what? I will be coming back, and I'm bringing my new toys with me.
That message was no report, if anything it almost sounded like a journal entry from one of the kids that were killed just by the mentioning of the word 'dad'.
As he had turned the corner, America saw the front door wide open and he wasted no time running out. He didn't stop running until he reached a city, street lamps glowing in the middle of the night. No one saw the blonde run, trying to find a hotel for the rest of the night as he waited for day light to return so that he could get back home. And no one saw the look on his face being that he had found out there was more to the world than he knew.
The screen had faded to black, but we all sat there in shock, taking in what we just witnessed. America had gone through that all alone, no doubt it had to be scarring for him. I didn't even want to think about what he had been 'chosen' for, if it was something as horrifying as this experience.
"America went through that alone…" I muttered, more to myself than anyone in particular, but everyone heard me in the deafening silence.
"None of us like the idea any more than you do, England-san, but we cannot change past events." Japan tried to reassure me.
"Angleterre*, despite what you may think of me, I see Amérique* like my own little brother too. No one should have to go through that." France said quietly so that only I could hear him.
There was much chatter between the different groups of countries, but I was afraid of what we would see next. I guess my biggest fear in watching these memories was if we would see America get hurt. My older brother protective instincts were coming strong, and I don't know how much more I could watch.
I didn't have long to think about it before the screen came to life with another memory. I hoped this one was easier to watch, but I have a feeling that it's only going to get worse from here on out.
To be continued…
Translations:
J'y suis dirigé maintenant. – I'm headed there now. [French]I
Olen otsikkona siellä nyt. – I'm headed there now. [Finnish]
Ich bin jetzt da geleitet. – I'm headed there now. [German]
Ti chiamo più tardi. – I'll call later. [Italian]
Watashi wa atode denwa shimasu yo. – I'll call later. [Japanese]
Jag ringer senare. – I'll call later. [Swedish]
Angleterre – England [French]
Amérique – America [French]
TheObsessedWriter: Thank you so much for reading the story, and if any of the translations are wrong, please tell me and I will fix the mistake as soon as possible. Now, PLEASE READ THE NEXT FEW SENTENCES!
IF THERE IS A STORY OR HORROR GAME THAT YOU KNOW OF AND WOULD LIKE TO APPEAR IN ONE OF THIS STORY'S CHAPTER, PLEASE PM ME OR LEAVE THE NAME IN A REVIEW. I MIGHT HAVE TO CHANGE A COUPLE DETAILS SO THAT IT WILL FIT THE CHARACTER(S), BUT I WILL DO MY BEST TO INCLUDE ALL ENTRYS.
Thank you again for reading this story, and please leave a review on your thoughts about it or what I could do to improve it.
~TheObsessedWriter