Semi-spoiler for this chapter: I edited chapter four to include the foreshadowing line :"Except for the man following him" so it seems less like it was pulled out of nowhere.


Alfred landed on the bed, tired from… well, everything, he guessed. He felt tired, like lead covered every part of his body. His heart, lungs, and skin, making it harder to move, and his lead covered eyes and brain made it harder to do. He was as heavy and useless like a stone. Matthew, however, was covered in pure, clean feathers polluted by nothing, dirtiness nor guilt. So free and fast, Canada could fly anywhere. Just like he used to. Canada was probably as far away from him as possible. He could see why now.

He already wasn't America, but now he wasn't Alfred either. The last thing he held onto was gone. Even Matthew… Even Canada didn't like him now. Nobody liked him. Maybe nobody actually loved him either, maybe ever. His economy was gone, and that was the only thing that anyone really cared about. It was enough to-

No, no, no, he didn't want to think about it! Even pondering of thinking about killed him on the inside of his already rotting self.

The hollow tick of his heart was the only thing moving in the room. Alfred pushed his face deeper into the pillow. He couldn't breath like last time, but this time he didn't care. It couldn't get any worse at this point. Two things were moving at this point. One of them was the door.

Alfred almost couldn't hear the footsteps, much less the ever so slightly opened door. Alfred sighed. "I'm signing out, doc, I just want to lie down for another minute."

The person took his hands from the hoodie pocket and patted Alfred's head. He swiped it away. Again he patted Alfred's head. Alfred started to turn around until he saw his brother's hoodie. Red like the leaf on his flag and smelling just like the blood of that tree, Alfred knew that it could only be one person. A pinch appeared on his arm, and his heart. He smiled.

"I'm so happy that you're here, I thought that you went to Montreal to get away from me, but now I see how that's not true! I knew you wouldn't abandon me! I love you, Mattie!", Alfred exclaimed happily. Maybe he was loved.

"Mhh", he replied. Alfred noticed that his arm was asleep, even though he wasn't on it. Maybe he should move. Alfred started to rise, feeling a little drowsy. Someone pushed him down. So weak. Alfred tried to face his friend, ask him what was going on. A wet rag was pushed into his face. It smelled like chloroform.

"What's the deal man?", he wanted to ask, trying to rise. He only yawned, and rolled onto his back. He saw the face of the man in the hoodie.

"I'm sorry, but I'll make it better again, I promise. Just trust me, please."

"Why", asked Alfred,struggling from the invisible bonds. Why did it have to happen again, why did it have to happen again, why, why, wasn't once enough? Would this keep happening, repeating forever, until he died? It was hard to fix things if this keeps happening again and again and- He started to cry, shedding tears. He started to cry, calling out, "Why Englan-"

Alfred yawned again, and Arthur put the chloroform soaked rag to his face. Struggling briefly, Alfred blacked out.

Once again, he was in Hell. But this time, there was no way out.


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