Chapter 36

Hey! Rosycat again. Fauna wasn't quite sure what to do this chapter so it's me again!

Italy POV (finally)

Italy wished he could stay asleep forever, but no such luck.

As he blearily began to rise back to consciousness, he became aware of stabbing, throbbing wounds all over his body.

He whimpered weakly, why did it hurt so much?

He kept his eyes closed, trying to sink back into unconsciousness. At least there he could dream of pasta and happiness…

But a childish voice pierced into his brain, making him wince a little, agitating his wounds even further.

"Come on, wake up already!" it whined. "You're so borrriiing like this!"

It shook his roughly and he gasped in pain, his eyes finally shooting open.

Terrified and pain- filled golden orbs met shining, gleeful dark black ones, and Italy suddenly remembered what had happened.

He shrank back in fear, eyes shining with the beginnings of tears.

"Please…" he whispered faintly. It even hurt to talk. "G- go away…"

Moldova rolled his eyes. "Why would I do that, silly? Then I'd be all alone again! Now get up and come with me!"

Italy didn't move, his eyes still wide. "It hurts too much…" he whimpered. "Please…"

Moldova huffed childishly. "You're such a crybaby." he grumbled. Then he looked over at the shadow who was still hovering nearby. "I can always ask him to make it so it actually hurts too much!" he exclaimed, seeming to brighten a bit at the prospect.

Italy yelped in fear at the idea and shrank back again, shivering uncontrollably.

Moldova rolled his eyes and poked Italy with his shoe, making him cry out again as it shifted his right arm, which had been broken, and probably several other broken bones.

"Get up then!" Moldova said, annoyed. "I wish I'd found someone less whiny…"

This isn't happening… thought Italy tearfully. Please… someone…. Germany… help…

But no one was here to help him.

Italy weakly tried to stand up, his recently broken arm dangling uselessly at his side as he used his working on to support himself, and tried to stand up.

Instantly agony filled all of his body, many wounds he hadn't even known he had making themselves known. Broken ribs shifted in his body, stabbing into anywhere they could reach. More wounds on his body opened back up and began to bleed again, and Italy immediately collapsed again to the ground, the pain overwhelming him.

He whimpered and curled into a ball, agitating his ribs even further, and panted, gasping as he waited for the stabbing feeling to fade.

Eventually it subsided slightly, and Italy became aware of Moldova standing off to the side a bit, telling him to hurry up already or he'd tell the shadow to have some more fun with him.

Italy looked up at his pitiless, sadistic black eyes with his tear- drenched face. His eyes were shining wetly.

"I can't." he whimpered, his voice hoarse. He wondered why. Maybe he'd been screaming… "It's too hard."

Moldova threw up his hands in an imitation of a child's temper tantrum.

"Yes you can!" then his voice changed, becoming more threatening. His eyes turned an even deeper black. "Now do it now or you'll wish it only hurt this bad."

Italy's eyes widened, more tears welling up. How had this happened…? He just wanted to go home! With Romano and Germany!

But he couldn't. He took a deep breath and tried again to stand.

Black spots swam in front of his vision. He gasped, and all he could feel was pain.

Whywhywhywhy. a voice chanted weakly in his head. He was so frightened… and alone. And in so much pain.

But he was standing up. He leaned against the wall, ignoring the way it hurt him, and tried to breathe. Tried to imagine Germany, telling him to be stronger. To focus. Germany… Italy closed his eyes.

Then Moldova interrupted his thoughts, clapping childishly. "Yay! You finally made it! Now come on! Follow me." and he skipped off down the hall.

Italy opened his eyes and stared hopelessly after him. He remembered how just maybe a day before he'd been skipping just like Moldova into the mansion, now that seemed an impossible feat. How could he possibly follow…? He had a broken leg, a broken arm, broken ribs…

The shadow was still behind him, glaring triumphantly, sadistic glee in its gaze.

It brought up one clawed shadowy hand, it's meaning clear. Move, or you'll wish you did.

Italy gulped, and shivered in disgust when he felt a bit of blood mixed with his saliva.

He took a shaky, painful step, one working arm braced against the wall to aide him, and almost blacked out, colours, especially red, flashing in front of his vision.

He took deep breaths, more tears coming from his eyes, as he attempted to steady himself, gasps of pain still pulling themselves from his mouth.

The shadow grinned at him malevolently and pointed forward again.

America POV

America sank through the quicksand incredibly fast, helped by his struggling. He had been sure his 'awesome hero strength' would be enough to get out, but sadly no.

As he finally sank completely through, he passed into another room below.

America shook himself off, grinning. "Hah!" he cried. "Of course! Heroes can never be defeated!" he exclaimed, his loud voice echoing through the empty chamber.

A cold breeze came through the room, a dark aura seeming to envelop it.

Not that America noticed, of course. He never had been good at the mystical art of 'reading the atmosphere'.

Cold, dark gray eyes blinked into existence, focusing on the confident nation with an eerie smile.

America stayed oblivious for a few more moments, before finally turning around with a small frown.

"Huh." he mused. "It's kinda chilly in here."

Then he noticed the eyes. "Oh shit!" he blurted.

He danced backward, readying Denmark's axe.

He didn't notice the second monster, this one with creepily unemotional ice blue eyes, right behind him.

AUTHORS NOTE

Rosycat here! I considered doing America a bit more, but ended up just going with that. At least now you kinda know how he got to where he was last chapter, and I'll continue his POV next time.

And… please don't kill me okay? I know… that was incredibly dark. My poor baby. Hehe. Review?