Struggling against the bonds, he stopped and noticed the mirror on the opposite wall, reflecting the window above him and all it showed. England must have put it there to make him more content with staying; all it did was make him think of his brother. At least Canada shared the same sky, (even if he could barely see any of it). If he was taken from Montreal, he couldn't have gone far.
Unless it had been more than one day. If it was four or even two days, than he could be anywhere in the world: an abandoned English castle; the catacombs of Paris, to the northernmost parts of Siberia. No one would know where he was. Canada would forget him, abandoned to the end of the wicked dust in darkness.
He screamed; concerned only letting out his pain, and that he was here, alive. No matter how much he was already dead. If love was life, he was going to die. In fact, he was already dead. There was nothing left anymore. He wanted to laugh, but he cried instead. What was the point? He was just stirring in his misery. Nothing was farther from where he used to be than where he was now; financial success only hurt him; he didn't know what was real anymore, and didn't even know who he was either. Everyone abandoned him, even Canada. He had nothing left. He wept. The door opened. There was a tray with a soda, a couple of scones, and-
"A hamburger for lunch, your favorite! I don't know if you would like it the way I made it, so I hope it's to your liking."
"But England, I don't know anything about me anymore. I don't even know who I am any-"
"Well that's not true. You're brave and strong, aren't you?"
"No."
"You stand up for justice."
"I can't even stand up for mysel-
"And you're a brave hero-
"England, heroes don't get ra-
"A hero who enjoys freedom."
"England, I'm not free. In fact, I'm not anything at all. I'm just..."
England's brow furrowed. "Alfred, don't act like that. That's silly, because you're you. You're Alfred F. Jones, United States of America. I love you more than anything, and that's because you're you. I love you." Arthur kissed his forehead as he tried to briefly turn away before stopping; he couldn't control what England did to his body.
Pulling away, England noticed that his ward was sad. He coughed. He didn't expect Alfred to react badly. England tried to think; what would excite him? Then he remembered. Reaching into his bag, England pulled out-
"My coat. Where did you get it?", he asked, sounding a little surprised. England smiled.
You left this in the meeting room the other day. It was messy and torn, so I fixed it up for you", he said, laying it in front of his ward. After waiting for several minutes for a response, England decided to ask what he thought. He said that he didn't deserve it; it was America's coat.
"How many times do I have to tell you? Do you have amnesia? You're America, Alfred. Don't keep saying that you're not."
He shrugged, and said okay. Arthur didn't believe him.
It was clear that Alfred was sad, but he didn't know that it was this much. After spending several minutes pondering and debating whether it was a good idea, he realized that probably nothing else would make him stir, England decided to say: "But Canada also loves you as well. You have to believe at that."
Alfred's eyes lit up at the mention of his brother. England hadn't seen that look in his eyes since⦠Since Alfred started to avoid him. So instead of backing off when Alfred asked about him, Arthur encouraged the conversation and said: "I didn't get to talk to him earlier, but he seemed really desperate to see you once you ran off. In fact, he seems like he was ready to search the entire continent for you."
"Matthew didn't abandon me?", he said with a fearful smile. "Didn't he lie about being in Montreal to avoid me?"
"Of course, he was in Paris with France until he heard that you went missing, and headed straight over to where you were seen last. I don't know where you got that idea, but he was worried sick over you. A lot of people are worried about you."
"So Mattie did care."
"He does care", Arthur corrected, "I would have invited him here if I didn't think he would try taking you away. You ran away once, Alfred, and that's more than enough for me. No one's taking you away from me again." Still pondering over what England said to act, he was once again kissed on his forehead. England left. Alfred thought.
So multiple people were looking for him? People cared so much about him that they were looking over the whole world for him. It didn't matter that he had felt hopeless; people were worried, looking all around for him. Even if it was only his brother, that was already more than enough. Alfred needed to escape. He pulled on both of the chains pulling his arms to the ground until he became tired and had blood dripping down him. Just like before, until Matt came for him. Mattie didn't want to lose him. He couldn't die here, not without seeing his brother.
Instead of giving up, he just focused on pulling with all his might on one chain until it started to bend and then break. Encouraged, he did the same with the other chain, cracking and breaking under five minutes. Chain shards covered his jacket. For the first time in days, Alfred stood up. All he would have to do would be to climb into the window. Then he would be free. Gingerly shaking off the filth on his jacket, Alfred put it on himself and looked out the window, staring at the sky as the sun covered him in its light. He felt not just like Alfred, but like America again. He smiled. He climbed out the window, slipping slightly only once. He could finally smell the fresh air and see all of the beautiful sky. Alfred smiled.
America was free again.
This is the second to last chapter. Sorry for publishing this so late at 9: 50 PM, but I didn't have this typed up (again), and didn't have enough time to write it on the computer. I listened to "Song for the Unsung Hero" for this. I started to write this at my brother's graduation, and the choir sang it. It just fit it so well. Stuyvesant High School. Also, please tell me what you think of this story, or at lease England. Thank you for your consideration. Good day, and good night.
