Chapter Eleven: The Boy Stuck in Repeat

Warnings: Blood, Death, False Realities, Suicide Mention

-000-

Sealand's POV

I've died so many times that death doesn't feel like anything separate from living. Constantly phasing from life and death, having all my progress reset upon every failure, every death from someone else or myself breaking me into nothingness has left me longing for my soul to reach peace. Those other countries are different than I am. They will only experience permanent death once and it'll all be over. Their souls haven't cycled on an endless loop like mine has. This time was supposed to be the end of my suffering, of everyone's suffering, but Malice is a powerful demon. Her seeds of sin have sprouted from a soul that should have never existed. After all, I am a fluke of nature.

It's as they say, the road to Hell is paved through good intentions. I walked along Hell's path and had its flames lick the soles of my feet before turning too corrupt for my once pure soul to ever be redeemed. I should've known that her corrupt nature would be too much for myself alone, yet I wanted to try and take her to the grave with me. She put me through Hell, and I wanted to send her back.

Even so, this "death" isn't a true death, so the watch will not reset time for me as it has before. With my body still breathing and my heart still beating, I am still considered alive despite my soul being in a state of death. For now, I'll be trudging through limbo. She may have said that I would still view the world through my body's eyes, but I see nothing but the shroud of darkness in my state of "death."

A white flash wipes away the darkness; a wave of blurry color replaces it. Blobs of beige and blue blend in a blur. I rub my eyes and find the room around me returning to focus as bits of eye crust are wiped away. Did the watch reset anyways? The white flash of light is just like a reset.

A familiar blue wallpaper covers the walls in sailboats. This is my room. Every reset starts this way, so that must be what happened. I'll never know how that timeline ended, but I think I'm better off not knowing how it went down. The only certain thing is that Malice hasn't been defeated and everyone died; otherwise there would be no reset.

I never know how each timeline ends since I always die before she is defeated. I only know what I was able to see during that time, so my knowledge is limited. No matter how hard I try, I never reach the ending of the time before I'm reset again, and that's exactly how she wants it. If I can't see the ending, I can't defeat her fully. Even if Malice is to be defeated in that one time line, she lives through the resets just like I do.

"Peter, it's time for breakfast!" Dad calls.

"I'm coming!" The hardest thing about each reset is being limited in my moments of normalcy. There's only so long that I can enjoy this time before I end up getting kidnapped by the person possessed by Mal. It's irritating how I can't just say, 'hey, there's a deranged demon possessing someone and she's going to kill me and my loved ones' because it's always passed off as a bad dream until it happens. Then, it's too late to nip it in the bud when we had the chance. I really don't want to go through another time line doing the same thing. It's always the same ending, and I still have yet to find a new one.

I hobble down the stairs longing to crawl back into my bed and be the obnoxious kid I was before all this chaos. I really would do that for old time's sake if it weren't for the fact that I would be late to the meeting. I can't try to change time if I'm not there. I felt so useless during the one timeline when exactly that happened. I'm already absolutely useless so what's the difference?

"Make sure to eat up, Peter! Today's a big day!" Dad chimes. Today is a much bigger day than you know right now.

I feign enthusiasm with a smile. "I know! I'm so excited to go to the meeting!"

"What? Peter, I'm sorry but we did that last meeting. Don't you remember? We got McDonalds afterwards since you wanted it so bad."

"Sorry, Dad, I forgot. I guess I was in a really deep sleep just now. Deeper than I thought." Something's not adding up. Every reset starts on the day of the attack. This reset is acting like nothing happened.

Papa looked up from his newspaper. "Peter, your big brother is coming over to watch you while we're at the Nordic meeting today." The doorbell rings, so he sets the newspaper aside and pushes up his glasses. He opens the door and England comes in. Seeing England perfectly fine is odd, yet it's so perfect for him to be okay for once. Have I gone to Heaven? That's the only way this could be happening.

Before I realize it, tears are spilling down my face. "B-Big brother! You're safe!" His eyes widen with concern and mostly surprise. I plunge my face into his midsection and cling onto him. "I'm sorry! I'm so very sorry!"

"Are you alright, lad? Usually you don't show this much remorse after setting up one of your petty pranks before your parents take you back home. I'm not pleased about getting salty corn flakes, but there's no need to be this upset. I'm not going to punish you for that considering it happened a month ago."

"You're alive!" I shout without thinking about it.

He sighs before asking, "Did you have a nightmare or something? If so, then there's nothing to worry about. I'm perfectly fine and well."

"Y-Yeah, just a nightmare. It's no big deal. No one in the real world is dead." I stifle the urge to break out into messy sobs and instead wipe away my tears. Was everything really a dream? Were all the deaths fake? There's only one way to find out.

"England, do you have the Kirkland Watch?" I ask.

"That's a weird question. How do you even know about our heirloom? I didn't think I showed it to you considering you have a tendency to mess up my things." He pulls out a familiar golden pocket watch from his coat. On it, the Kirkland name is engraved. "Before you ask, I'm not giving it to you just yet. This is a special watch. I would only give it to you if the situation was dire." His face changes with his eyes widening in realization. "Please tell me you haven't been using this watch." Both England, Dad, and Papa stare at me, waiting to hear what I say.

"Why would it matter if everyone is safe now? This is a new timeline, isn't it?"

"Oh god, you have used it. I absolutely need to know what happened to cause you to need this watch."

Before I can answer, everything around me blurs as it did before. All the colors around me melt into blackness once more.

A high-pitched woman's voice rings through my head. "You weren't supposed to question the reality I put you in! I was trying to pacify you, but that's would be too easy for you, wouldn't it? I could give you a second shot at a fabricated utopia, but you would tear it apart just like you did to your body. It's your own fault that bad things happen to you."

I try to cry out, but my lungs feel like they're filled with tar just like before.

"Such a stupid little boy. I don't feel like babysitting you in the back of my head while I prepare ample vessels. This body is still fueling the sins, so I'll have to start aligning these pathetic captives with a sin while they incubate. For you, I'll just send you to sleep."

Within an instant, my mind shuts down and I plummet back into the curtains of darkness.

-000-

America's POV

"I'm going to guess you're a sodding wanker," England says in a snarky 'I'm better than you' voice.

France, sounding offended, remarks, "Charades is no fun if you just make rude remarks towards me. Shall I guess that you are the human embodiment of sexual tension?"

"You're an absolute pig! Does your mind only think of sex and drama?"

"I think of much more than that. You, however, only think of me and how much you want to-"

"I'm cutting you off there! I don't want to hear another word!" England huffs.

I let out a loud groan as a dull aching returns to my chest. I force my eyelids apart to see England pouting as France sits down. I assume they've been occupying themselves with charades, but I don't know why they try if it always ends on a sour note. Why doesn't France just cut it out with the dirty jokes and mend their friendship?

The two look at me. England's eyes tear up as he pounces on me. "Oh, America, I was so worried about you! It was absolutely awful to watch you getting mangled!"

I wince in pain and gently push him off. "Careful around my middle. I did just wake up after getting torn to bits by dogs." Saying it like it's a casual thing will make him stop caring about it, right?

England wipes away a tear, smearing a bit of my blood on his cheek. "Sorry about that. I was distraught watching what you went through, so it's a relief that you're okay."

I look down and see that my torso is wrapped in blood soaked bandages. Clearly this person doesn't have first-aid training. At least I had something to cover up the gaping hole in my body, but this man better not try to do this shit on a human.

"It's kinda weird that the guy decided to wrap me up, albeit poorly. Italy didn't have any bandages when he was constantly experimented on, so why the change?"

France's face droops into an expression of melancholy. "That poor boy. I am still doubtful that he is truly dead despite seeing it for myself. Besides that, it is odd that he suddenly decided to bandage you up. Do you think he is feeling remorse?"

I say, "I would hope that he's regretting all the chaos he's causing. If we're lucky, he'll decide to let us go. If not, we'll all be six feet under."

England's eyebrows furrow as his face contorts with frustration. "I don't understand why someone, presumably one of us, would want to kill us all. Sure we haven't been the best of nations but does that really mean that everyone deserves to die?"

France speaks, "And the tiny hint at our captor's identity is that he is related to you, Angleterre. Considering your world-conquering mission those many years ago, a good portion of nations could be considered a brother of yours."

I press my knees into my chest and think. How many brothers does he have? "Let's name off your family. There's me of course."

"There is also my little Canada," France says. His face drops again at the thought of Canada being the one inflicting torture on us. "God, I hope Canada is not responsible."

"There are my older brothers, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland. I'm not fond of those three considering their constant bullying when I was young. Is there anyone I'm forgetting?"

"Yeah, you forgot the little dude! Y'know, Sealand?"

England scoffs. "Sealand? That boy can barely maintain what's left of his fort. How is he supposed to go conquering when he's always busy trying not to drown?"

I raise my eyebrow. "You do realize snide remarks like that could have set him off the edge? What if you fucked him up and made him evil?"

"Me? Make that kid evil? I doubt our petty squabbles meant anything. I was softer on you than I am with him. Then again, you weren't constantly trying to get on my every last nerve."

France coldly sneers, "You are a sour one, Angleterre. Words hurt more than you think, especially to a child who looks up to you so much."

England's eyes are downcast. "Perhaps I forget that he is only forty years old compared to my thousands of years." He quickly changes his tone and says, "But it's not like the little bugger would actually care about what I think. Our bickering is mutual."

"This is like pissing in a violin! I am done arguing with you!"

"God, frog, if you're going to say some stupid French saying to me, don't directly translate it into English or you might as well say nothing for all I care! Your odd sayings are incredibly stupid, even in your native tongue?"

"Well, the phrase literally translates to 'pissing in a violin' so it doesn't make much sense in English. Why is it that I have to accommodate to you and your native English-speaking tongue all the time, yet you still complain? Why is it that we cannot speak French? I know that you learned it."

I give up on the argument. While I do love him, my brother is a prideful man. "Hey, let's just drop this for now. Instead, can you fill me in on anything that happened while I was out?"

England says, "Surprisingly, nothing really important happened. Your recovery was awfully quick compared to how long it takes me to heal."

France smirks, "It looks like your age is starting to show."

"You're older than me, dumbass," England quips back.

"Even so, there is a brand new invention called moisturizer that can help you maintain your youthful glow as I do. You should give it a try when you get the chance."

"I know what moisturizer is! At least I'm not a sissy that spends an hour tending to my face alone!"

"You can only dream of having perfect skin such as mine! You will always feel like tree bark while I am still in the prime of my youth with skin softer than silk. You are merely jealous of my retained beauty!"

"I will never be jealous of your indulgence to vanity. I am prideful, but not as disgustingly self-absorbed as you are."

"I am not self-absorbed! I care for others as well as myself. I work hard to maintain my appearance, so do not put a damper on all my hard work!"

I pipe up, "Cut it out, both of you! I get that you both like to fight with each other, but I'm not in the mood for it!"

France glares at me. "I am below petty squabbles. It is his fault that I am always roped into them."

I roll my eyes at the remark. Those two will never get along.

-000-

Russia's POV

It is a relief that I died recently. Through the agony, I will learn how to behave in the perfect way to keep from getting hurt by the person behind the mask. I must always study people to avoid them hurting me. No one will ever be exempt from that rule because no one is to be trusted. Some people like to cause pain while others are destined to get hurt. My methods lessen the pain inflicted on me.

I trudge over to the slumped over body in the corner and crouch down to observe its face. Japan's eyes are still blank as ever, and caked on bits of blood still remain all over his stomach. I would doctor him in hopes of his recovery, but he would only kill himself again. Is this the third suicide? The only use that their bodies serve is to make my art or to fill my needs for attention. The beautiful painted sunflowers on the grey walls are made from death just as nations are. Collapse brings new life in the decaying corpse that is Earth. Maybe I will fade away peacefully. Drowning is not painful like the cuts I endured earlier. I will have to study him carefully to avoid such an event like that.

Bored, I prod at Japan's arm. There is no response since he is dead once more. Is it cowardly or brilliant to cause your own temporary death to avoid the unwanted present? The answer would depend on the person and that answer can be used to evaluate a personality. People are like complex machines, though instead of cracking them open to see how it operates, I have to watch the person constantly to map out proper responses to make.

I scratch at a scab on Japan's chest until beads of red rise above the crusty flesh. Bits of dried blood are added to the collection of other bits of flaked off blood underneath my fingernails. I continue to pick and scratch as more and more red bubbles flow up to the surface until there's an ample amount for me to use. I dip my finger into the pool forming on Japan's chest and begin to write on the wall above his body.

Trait: Man finds comments about torture to be demeaning towards him.

Trait: Man is fueled by anger and acts impulsively once angered

Past: Man may have drowned before

Once I think of enough to write for now, I let my arm fall slack to my side. How much longer will I be alone in here with these quiet bodies? Any semblance of another human's company would quiet my buzzing mind before I start to see the things. Even close, intimate company would be better than this thick quietness. If someone were to give me love, I could forget everything.

As I look at the dark wall for too long, I begin to see formations of non-existent things. Tiny wisps of sickly, human-like figures wander in my line of vision. Many of the figures are severely deformed, yet they all resemble the same vague image of a boy.

"Can you see me?" One asks with sad eyes staring into mine. "No one else sees me." His body looks normal except for the bruises formed around his neck with a rope trailing behind. Though it is hard to see, I can tell that the boy's hands are an ugly purple.

"Do not worry, little boy, I can see you still," I respond. "No matter how many times you ask, I will still answer you with a 'yes' every time."

His glazed over eyes dart to the side. "It's my own fault that I died. I was hoping to be put to rest." His hands fumble with the rope around his neck carelessly. "This version of myself will forever be trapped in time while the true 'me' trudges on."

I smile with no thought and say, "I do not think I will ever understand your babblings about time. I am sure your soul will eventually find rest."

His face shifts with sadness. "I can never find rest until the true 'me' finds a way to break free from her. I happened a very long time ago, so there will probably be many more failed versions of myself to come before we all reach peace."

"Do you always talk vaguely? I could help you if you explained what happened."

He jerked his head away from me. "My time was pathetic, and it's embarrassing that I ever thought that hanging myself would fix the problem. Now I'll be stuck in repetitive resets until I either find a way to defeat her or pass off the watch. Only problem is that I don't have control anymore, and my existence is that of a fraction of his spirit to serve as merely a marker in time to avoid repeats of timelines. I wonder how long it will be until there are no more pieces of his soul left to implant into that watch."

"Indeed, time will only tell."

Silent tears cascade down his face as he fumbles more with his rope necklace. "No matter how many times we talk, I'm never satisfied with your answers." Just as he came, the boy fades into the surrounding darkness. I never cared for the mysterious ghost-like people appearing, but they occupy me from the worsening reality around me.

As I often do, I lay down and nestle myself between the two cold bodies. Carefully, I turn them both over to face me. I pick up China's arm and place it behind my back to give myself the faint illusion that he's holding me. I pull Japan closer despite the pooling blood sticking to my clothes and wrap his arm over me to hold his cold hand.

"Oh, Japan, you are so incredibly cold!" I exclaim. "It seems as though the weather outside is awful. The walk home must have been difficult even with your coat on." Just like a child, I play pretend with my 'dolls.' "Do not worry, darling, because I will warm you up!" I rub my face into China's chest.

"You are cold as well, China. I told you to bring a scarf just like I do, but you did not want to listen. When will you learn, China?" I pull China closer like a teddy bear, but the scent of blood is too strong. Coughing, I yell, "China! You did not even bother to shower before getting into bed! I will forgive you this time, but do not dare to crawl into our bed like this again without expecting to clean the dirty sheets."

"Japan is not smelly, unlike you," I pause talking for a moment. "Do not worry, I still love you very much! Both of you are beautiful!"

Tiredness creeps to my eyes before I realize it. As my eyelids grow heavier, I embrace China and Japan with the last bit of strength I have left. I hope that one day these bodies will not be the only ones giving me affection.

-000-

A/N: So as I finish my proofreading, I'm at school under lockdown: shelter in place. I want to eat lunch but I have to wait until they finish investigating. It's shit like this that makes me want to go to that private school I've been eyeballing. I hope my little sister isn't scared. She may be under lockdown too since her school is across the parking lot. I can't reach her phone, so I don't know how she's doing. You bet that she's getting a lecture when we get home. As I sit in the band room waiting for an update, I long for lunch and better gun control. I'll see ya in the next chapter! (hopefully in a safer circumstance)