(Author's Note: If you don't like drug use or are uncomfortable with it, please just wait until the next update comes out. Thanks!)

Ch. 10

As England walked up the stairs to the third floor, his breathing became more, and more ragged. By the time he was walking down the hall, England suspected he was going to have a breakdown right there in the hall.

England stopped in front of the fifth door to the left. In front of the room were he was supposedly going to ruin the rest of his life. Reasoning with the fact he was more frightened of his boss then of the drug, England pushed open the door and walked inside. Not looking at anything in the room yet, he closed the door and locked it. England turned and leaned against the door as he took in the room.

It was simply decorated, with only a single bed and nightstand pushed into a corner of the room. England looked at the rubber strap sitting curled up next to the syringe on the nightstand, and visibly winced. He sat on the bed and hesitated before picking up the syringe. He only touched it with his index finger and thumb, not wanting to touch it anymore than was necessary. England shook his head and set it back down gently. He un-zipped his bag and pulled out the box he bought in Washington. England ripped off the tape and looked inside.

The drug was already in tubes, waiting to be loaded into the syringe. England didn't process this. Not fully. His body went onto automatic as his brain clicked into overdrive.

What the hell was he doing? Didn't he always say this stuff was a mistake? That No-one should use it? Then why was he sitting here, about to jab himself with the same stuff he loathed so much?

Why should he be so scared anyway? The Prime Minister was just another man wasn't he? Why should he be taking these kind of orders from him? He was the whole bloody country and who was he? Some bloke that people elected to run the country. To order him around! He just needed to report him. To report him as insane, unfit to be in the office! So why didn't he? Of course, he was unable to tell anyone. Even being who he was, having the rank he did, he had no power. Not anymore. Not like anyone else. All the other countries had some level of control in their own land. Not him. Not anymore. This man had taken everything from him. Everything he had to lose anyway. How could he fight him? He had everyone under his thumb. He would never be able to compete with someone like that.

And it wasn't like America could do. Just disappear for a few years until the term was over. England couldn't do that. He was stuck with the man until he was forced out of office. He couldn't run for decades. He couldn't hide. So what else could he do but comply?

England pulled himself out of the web of his doubts. As he thought his body had worked on automatic, continuing to prep the drug he was going to shoot into his body, doing god-knows-what. He knew what it did to humans, and the long-term effects for America. But what happened as you did it?

England shook off that thought. What was going to happen was unavoidable. He couldn't fight it. The thought made him sad. If he couldn't speak up for himself anymore, what the hell had he become?

England held the rubber strap and wound it around his arm. Remembering the technique America had used, England secured one end and held the other end tightly with his teeth. The rubber tasted filthy. He wondered if that was a sign.

Actually hoping someone would start knocking on the locked door, England picked up the syringe and held it gingerly in his hand, eyeing it in distaste.

England took a deep breath to steady his hand, and pressed the needle to the crook of his arm. He winced as the needle pierced the skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed down on the plunger.

England almost released the strap in his teeth with a gasp as he could feel the chilled liquid rush into his blood-stream. England grit his teeth tighter instead, and tried to relax his arm to allow the foreign substance easier access to his body. He shivered violently as he could feel the cold liquid snake its way underneath his skin.

The strap loosened as England's teeth chattered together. England yanked the needle out of his arm, and dropped it on the floor as the force caused blood to gush out.

England dropped the strap in his mouth and pressed his hand against his arm, trying to stop the bleeding. He cursed himself for being such an idiot. He could have found something to wrap his arm for after the injection.

Keeping his hand pressed against his arm, England stood up to find some kind of cloth for the bleeding. He had barely taken a single step before he fell back onto the bed. England groaned as his muscles began to twitch uncontrollably.

That stuff, it was obviously laced with something. Some other drug. Some other drug, that was probably very addictive.

England could see dark spots dancing across his eyes. Was he going to pass out? Why? He took just as much as he was told to! But the dealer had thought he was talking to a human. Could he have a different reaction to this drug because he was a country? Did he take too much? Why the hell didn't he just ask America? Granted, America probably wouldn't have told him, but he still could have tried!

'Damn it.' England thought, right before he blacked out.

(Authors Note: Oh man, that pained me. I felt so bad writing Iggy like this! I feel like I'm torturing him in some strange way… I really have no idea if that's what you do when you take drugs though. [no I have not chosen a specific drug, nor do I have any plans to.] I sorta just went with my gut instinct.

And I'm sorry if I got the information about the Prime Minister wrong. I looked it up on Wiki. -_-U If I got it wrong please tell me! I hate it when I got information about the real world wrong in my stories!

Till the next chapter! [where things will really begin to pick up.]

Ciao!)