Chapter Two

Shit. That was the word that first popped into Alfred's mind. Then it came again, more frenzied. Shit shit shit shit shit! He was alone in the gallery, he was sure of that now. Arthur, Arthur was-

No, no, he mustn't think about it. If he believed hard enough, he would still be there. Right?

"Arthur…?" Alfred hesitatingly called into the silence. "If you're doing this to scare me, this is so not funny, dude." A nervous laugh bubbled over his lips.

The response, of course, was what he dreadingly expected. Nothing, absolutely nothing. Shiiiiit.

"ARTHUR!" he desperately screamed. "ANSWER ME! I'M SORRY I CALLED THIS PLACE BORING, OK? J-JUST TELL ME YOU'RE FINE, PLEASE!" Alfred's eyes began to tear up from fear and sorrow. "No…" He couldn't have just vanished like that.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Calm down, Al. There has to be a way to find Iggy and get out of here alive. You just have to stay in control and everything will be fine. If you're blinded by terror, you'll never get out of here. His heart rate slowed slightly as his rarely reasonable side spoke up. Besides, maybe he missed something in his search. It would be a simple matter to search the gallery again, it wasn't all that big.

Taking one last deep breath, he began to walk back to where the main exhibits were. Yet again, the lights flickered, then went out, already chipping at his courage. Lights flickering usually meant something paranormal going down. Flickering and then going out was a hundred times worse. At least it was in those movies he liked to watch. Whatever, nothing was going to distract him from his goal.

The first order of business was to double check that all those windows were locked. He approached the first two he saw, which were by the reception desk. Upon closer inspection, they were not in fact locked. It looked as if he would be able to open them as a window in his house. However, several attempts proved it impossible.

Dripping with sweat, Alfred took a step away from the window. "Phew," he sighed as he wiped his brow. "It's liked they're jammed or something." Then he stifled a scream as he looked back up. A red fluid was leaking from beneath the window.

Yeah, no. This wasn't happening. No way. Alfred backed away slowly, then turned on his heel and ran up the white marble stairs. Maybe it would be less… Freaky… up there.

A distant sound reached his ears, then grew louder. Alfred's hopes grew brighter and the sound came closer. Footsteps! Somebody was here after all. He wasn't alone! The American, giving off a small whoop, thundered up the remaining stairs to the next level. Ah, finally. This cruel joke was going to be over quickly.

The footsteps were ringing throughout the empty room now. Alfred looked around with a small smile on his face. His own fear seemed so distant now that the horror seemed over. Finally, he located the source of the tattoo of steps. Then he reeled backwards at it fully hit him.

The window! It was coming from outside the window! But he was on the second story… No sooner could he think this than the shape of a human being passed outside of the glass. The footsteps faded until they no longer existed. Perhaps they never did. Perhaps it was all a bad dream. But Alfred's senses told him otherwise. If this was a dream, then it was by far the most vivid one he'd ever had.

Alfred realized he was hyperventilating and attempted to sooth himself with this delusion. Soon he'd wake up at Iggy's house and Arthur would be lecturing him about sleeping late. Arthur… He shook his head. He still had to find the grumpy Brit, dream or not. He made a mental note to stay away from windows and took off again.

He passed those weird headless statues and that comfy looking couch again, paying them little heed. They weren't important at the moment. Alfred, after a moment of deliberation, decided to visit that mural again. Something about it drew him towards it. Expecting the worst, he stepped inside. As he expected, something was off. There was blue paint dripping from underneath towards the middle of the childish painting.

He squinted at it, unable to make to find any rhyme or reason to the drippings. After a few moments, he happened to glace at the floor. His heart began to beat faster and faster as the letters put themselves together in his head.

COME ALFRED

Now the blue paint formed itself into a message as his eyes were drawn up to it once more. This time, there was no mistaking the message.

come down below alfred

ill show you someplace secret

Well, this was just wonderful. Whatever this thing or things was, it knew his name. And it wanted him downstairs. This day was just getting better and better. Even worse, he had no idea why the thing or things wanted him. It could want to eat him for all he knew.

Alfred gave a futile yell. "I TASTE REALLY BAD, BELIEVE ME! I'VE TRIED!" Yeah, that wouldn't turn away any monster hungry for the blood of an American. Even he wouldn't be deterred by that. Though he was right, he did taste terrible. Funny the things you do when you get bored.

…Stop stalling, Alfred. There wasn't any avoiding going downstairs. Not unless he wanted to stay up here for the rest of his life. And seeing as he was a country, it was going to take a very long time for him to die. He'd go crazy up in this room all alone. All alone. Alfred shuddered at the thought.

It wasn't as if he had anything to lose. Besides, it was his only lead to find Arthur. And the people from the gallery, he added as an afterthought. If Iggy was in danger or hurt, there was no way on this earth that he was going to abandon him. All that talk of being hero would be just that if he saved himself. Talk. What would the other nations think of him then? He'd be nothing more than a big mouth, all words and nothing to back it up.

Anyways, there was certain things that he hadn't told Iggy yet. Someday, he wanted to bravery to tell them to him.

Alfred took the stairs slower than he did earlier, still slightly reluctant and fearful. I'm not a coward. Anybody would be scared in this situation, no matter who it was. Justifications, justifications, another side of him whispered. Go away, he whispered back, not caring about how crazy doing so was. Gosh darn voices in his head, acting like they knew everything and owned the place.

After finding nothing new in the entrance, he walked into the room with the freakish eel painting. With a start, Alfred realized that he was feeling the same tug that he did in the mural room. Except this time it was stronger. Much stronger. As if in a dream, he sleepwalked towards the late painter's masterpiece.

One of the ropes blocking visitors from getting too close was missing. In its place was two footprints, made from the same paint that was leaking from the multicolored mural. Another step brought him directly on top of the prints. This must be the down below the paint told me about… Alfred noted dimly.

Before he knew what he was doing, Alfred took another step. He felt weighted down suddenly, as if he had jumped into a swimming pool. He was drowning, drowning, in the hopeless depths of the blue paint. But oddly, he wasn't distressed in the slightest.

His eyelids grew heavy. The darkness was coming on fast now, and there wasn't any escape. So he surrendered himself and knew no more.

Lay me down

Let the only sound

Be the overflow

Pockets full of stones

Lay me down

Let the only sound

Be the overflow…