5 years later.
The government still refused to see them. Canada had exploded his outrage and yelled at them, demanding to see his brother, but the quietness of his voice didn't help. France was worried, and though, they still despised each other, France constantly assured Britain that things would be fine, and Britain had almost passed out from stressing out too much. Russia was having issues with China and Germany, so he was a bit occupied. Japan felt sorrowfull. He hoped America-san was alright, and wondered what was going on in that secretive country.
They had just hung up with the American government. Still, no news had reached the light of day, but everyone still waited for The United States to reveal anything about what was going on. Britain threw his hands in the air. "What the hell are we supposed to do now! Those stupid motherfuckers don't tell us a damn thing!"
France exhaled, and Britain's face had worry all over it, he couldn't hide all of it anymore. "Angelterre, calm down, it's going to be alright," France said. "Shut up," Britain snapped, but he stopped pacing back and forth. Canada was stricken with fear for his brother. "What are we going to do now?" Japan tuned back into the conversation. "The only thing we can do. Wait."
America was getting used to the chains. The weight of them, not the friction to his wrists. They still rubbed the skin raw. They beat him, and started twisting every constitutional right under the sun. He was sick all of the time, a sharp ache seeping from his heart. The country was consumed with rebels, and everything and everyone was taken over and replaced.
The rebels taunted him, teasing him with food when they knew he was starving. In that little cold room at night, he cried. Sobbed. He wanted his friends, he wanted the country to go back to how it was, no matter how poor or homeless it was. It was better than the blood of American citizens dripping through the cracks in the streets. It was better than the man who ruled now. It was better than anything.
