A/N: Um? America's POV? There will be a perspective change soon though. Many POV changes in this chapter.

As I watched Netherlands sleep, I sighed heavily. I couldn't sleep, and that's for sure. I stared out the window and watched the moon cross it before I was able to lay my head on the pillow and slowly drift off.

And that's when it happened.

I felt a hand clap over my mouth and I was silently pulled from the bed. I opened my eyes to see a man, who was obviously out to kill me. His fist shot out and broke my nose. We had a silent fight until he was able to slip a black bag over my head, filled with a sickly sweet scent.

I quickly lost consciousness.

When I came back from my black out, I still couldn't see. A blindfold was over my eyes. I felt that my arms were chained up, as well as my ankles. I heard footsteps coming towards me, and a slow water dripping in the background.

"I finally got you." The familiar Scottish accent rang out, bouncing off the walls of the room, so I couldn't pinpoint his location. "Now you won't be screwing with our wedding." He sighed and started walking. I couldn't know what direction.

Confusion overwhelmed me and I hung my head. I heard him laugh.

"Shameful yet?" He asked. "You're in a basement, somewhere. I'm not telling you where, but I will tell you it's somewhere where you can hear me take your girlfriend away from you." He sighed. "I'm really second guessing how badly I should hurt you." I felt a strong blow to my stomach, followed by my shoulder. The pain carried on for what felt like minutes, until he finally kicked my diaphragm. Blood flooded my mouth and I spat it out, onto the ground. "It looks like the Hero needs saving, huh?" He said, his laughter slowly getting fainter.

I felt the overwhelming sense of desperation, sadness, and a third emotion I couldn't pinpoint.

Depression.

I felt tears well up in my eyes, and had to let them fall past my blindfold. There would be tear tracks in the dirt and blood.

I'm going to die here, aren't I?

ЖЖЖNETHERLANDS' POVЖЖЖ

"He's fine." Cyprus said encouragingly. "There's no need to worry. He's probably off freaking out about his best friend getting married." We all knew. Cyprus, Romano, Prussia, and I all knew that he was more than just a best friend. "He's OK."

I took a deep breath and nodded. He was probably fine.

I sat back on my bed and let Prussia sit down next to me. He'd taken off the bandages from his eye, and the scab over his eye would most definitely scar. And it would be cool as hell.

"Come on sweets, you have to organize you farm." Prussia sighed and took my hand. I smiled at him and used his help to stand up.

I was really shaking as I slipped on my work clothes. I actually had to employ Cyprus' help to get into the clothes. I knew I would have to eat soon, but I didn't want the kid that I had the slight possibility of carrying.

I quickly did my farm work and flopped onto the couch. I glanced over at the people in the house. Egypt replaced Prussia. I got up, to see that Egypt was cooking Kushari. I got up, after I beckoned Romano over to help me up.

I sat down and started eating the plate of food, that obviously belonged to Egypt. He was about to protest, but decided against it.

"So, how are the tattoos?" Cyprus asked Egypt. He blushed, which was strange.

"They're healed over." He sighed. Romano and I looked at him inquisitively. He sighed in frustration and rolled up his sleeve. Just above the elbow, the tattoos started. They were Ancient Hieroglyphics, circling his arm. "I just had them re-done, because they were fading." He sighed.

"Poetic." I said as I started reading. Being a trade country helped when I was learning languages. I mostly only needed to hear someone speak it a few times, and I picked it up easily. I knew ancient runes fluently. Most of them at least.

He pulled down his sleeve before I could keep reading. From what I got, it was an entry to The Book of The Dead.

"It's beautiful." Romano commented. We were silent until I heard a person walking up the boardwalk. I jumped to the door, hoping it was America. When I opened the door, I saw Mauritius holding up booze. I smiled weakly, remembering Cyprus' words.

"In the three days you have as an unmarried woman, you have today to get your dress fitted, tomorrow to have a bachelorette party, the day after that to get sober and lucid and go to the church, and finally get married the day after that." She said.

And this would be the start of my party.

I quickly lost my worries as female nations flooded my house, and I started drinking heavily. Cyprus called Germany over, so he'd get drunk too, and start stripping.

"Well, Slovakia." I said and stumbled to the chair she was sitting in. "How much are you enjoying this?" I asked, my voice slurred.

"Very much so." She sighed, completely sober. "The blue haired kid is pretty good looking." She was talking about Poseidon, who had showed up after Germany. He had halfway stripped as well, which made him much more appealing to me in my drunken state.

"You should go talk to him." I said, swaying as I stood. She smiled and stood up. She walked to him.

Maybe she did get some alcohol in her. I thought.

"Are you OK?" I heard Egypt ask. He stuck around because he's gay. For Libya. I nodded sloppily and let him pull me up. He sat me down on my couch. "You should eat something."

"No, I-I'm fine." I hiccuped a bit and smiled. "Maybe I should go to sleep."

I waited for most of the guests to leave, before I stumbled into my bedroom. As I passed, I saw Oprah's face in the mist in the window.

Acid does wonders, now doesn't it?

I fell onto my sheets and quickly slipped into a doze.

Head throbbing, body aching, and stomach churning pain rattled through my body. I laid on the cool ground and turned onto my side. Snow touched my face and I opened my eyes. The burning white greeted me with the same soft singing.

"There was a monkey with a cane, behind mother's kitchen door. He had a hole in his coat, and his tail stuck straight through. There was ring on his finger, and it was made from pure gold. And so all the people thought, that the monkey was married." The old Dutch greeted me again with another song from my childhood. I smiled, for it was one of my favorite songs. "Netherlands, why are you in pain?"

"I was drinking to much. Now I'm going to wake up with the worst headache, and I'll probably throw up glitter." I muttered, my own voice hurting my head.

"Glitter?"

"Don't ask, Dad. Don't ask." I sighed and sat up with his help. He kissed my forehead, and I decided that my imagination of him wasn't so bad. I think I'd be able to live with it.

"Dearest Netherlands, if you know this will happen, why do it?" He asked in his rough voice.

"I do it because I need to forget my life. I need to forget everything." I sighed and let him wrap his arm around my shoulders, no matter how much I wanted to dislocate his arm.

"Silly girl." He whispered and kissed my forehead. Then he started singing softly in Dutch, so I could at least try to fall asleep.

I was still happy to have my father's embrace though.

I woke up to Cyprus banging pots and pans near my ear. And, oh god, did that hurt.

ЖЖЖSCOTLAND'S POVЖЖЖ

I refused to leave my room when I got back. I just laid on my bed, trying to think of what to do with America.

I couldn't just leave him there, in the basement of the church. I also couldn't let him go. I couldn't kill him either, nor could I keep him there, keeping him alive for all of eternity.

Maybe this would all just mull over and America would learn to love someone else.

Maybe. Just maybe.

I rubbed my eyes, knowing that I'd have to deal with him some time.

"Scotland!" I heard one of the Bailiwicks shout. "Get out here!" I grumbled as I stood up, without a shirt on. I was still wearing the necklace though. I hobbled out, into the front room, to see the girls plus Shetland horrified. "Sealand's dead." One of them sighed. I think it was Jersey, but I couldn't tell.

"Well, why am I not surprised?" I asked and walked into the kitchen. "England, are you going to take the land, even though you owned it anyway?"

"Yes." He simply said. I turned around, after I grabbed a piece of pie and headed back to my room.

Damn it! I thought as I took a bite into the chocolate foam. I'm taking a leaf out of Netherlands' book.

I flipped the book open and started drawing randomly. I ended up nowhere as the sun set. It was the 29th and my wedding was on the 31st. Time goes by fast, I guess.

I rested my head on my pillow and closed my eyes to sleep.

I walked through the forest, filled with the blue of the ocean. Greens and purples and blacks mixed with the blue that surrounded me. It was only the moonlight making it blue, which intrigued me. It was a weirdly familiar forest. Everything seemed like I'd seen it before. Every shadow seemed like something lurked in it, and every tree seemed like it was staring at me. I looked around because I heard a sharp crack. I watched a young man with read hair pull himself off the ground. He was wearing a dark brown cloak with green and black clothing underneath. A quiver of arrows were strapped onto his back and he held a longbow in his fingers. The young man suddenly looked surprisingly familiar. He was in fact me, just from the past. The younger me walked forward quickly, looking over his shoulder nervously about every five seconds. He tripped over another root, falling directly into the trap that was strategically placed there. He writhed in the net that immediately strung him up and panicked when chuckles came from the trees above him.

"We got a good one!" A weaselly voice sneered. A few more of them said more along those lines. The three older men jumped down and all held knifes.

"You're ours'." Another said and smiled deviously. They creeped towards the younger me until one fell to the ground, an arrow in the side of his throat. One pulled it out, in hope that it would help, but only drowning his comrade in his own blood. The two of them quickly started running out of sight. The younger me started scrambling in panic as he thought the same fate would happen to him, only for a brown haired man to walk to him and cut him loose.

"I'm not going to hurt you, boy." The brown haired man sighed as my younger self tried scrambling away. "Here, take my bow if you don't believe me. I'm Burgundy by the way." Burgundy said, handing his bow to the me that I was watching. I took the weapon shakily. "I'm your mother's friend, there's no way I'd kill you."

"How do I know that?" I asked. My voice had changed before that, so I sounded surprisingly adult like. Burgundy was taken aback.

"Here." He pulled out a leather cord from around his neck and untied the knot. He dropped it into my hand. "Take this so you trust me, and keep yourself safe." He sighed and quickly dashed off without his bow, leaving me staring at his back.

I didn't open my eyes as I woke up, having a massive headache. I quickly pulled my blanket over my head, trying to block out the blinding light coming from the window. In the darkness, I felt around for my pencils and book, before someone charged in loudly.

"Scotland! Wake up!" I heard Mann yell. She tugged away my blanket, or at least she tried. I had a ready grip on the thick fabric, for I had this happen too many times. "Scotty! Why are you being so mean?" She whined and finally tore away the blanket. I curled up tighter and had to be dragged away.

My head hit the floor loudly, and that's what got me out of bed. Mann grinned widely.

"You're getting married tomorrow." She said, almost teasing me.

ЖЖЖNETHERLAND'S POVЖЖЖ

I laid on the bathroom floor with my head in the tub. France was bleaching it again. He also apparently had this magical remedy for dry hair. From what I smelled, it was vinegar.

"Of, but you will have to find a way to get the smell out." Romano sighed, interrupting France's constant babbling about his favorite designers.

"There's peppermint oil in the bottom cupboard." I said and he pulled out a bottle. It was about the size of a bottle of fingernail polish remover.

"You two aren't listening to me at all!" France said, teasing us. We both smirked at him and the room fell silent except for the sound of Project Runway from the next room.

I'm still wondering how Cyprus gets the American TV shows.

I waited, squirming, for about another half hour, before could stand up and get his hands off my neck. That always bugged me. It was because of the collar Spain put me in. He also half strangled me a few times. It's him that made me paranoid of most things. Pirating as a Sea Beggar helped the paranoia a bit. A bit. A lot. Same difference.

I sat down at the island in my kitchen and heard my stomach cry out for food. I scrunched my eyebrows and gave it to it, looking at the fridge. Aardbeiengebakjes were what caught my eye first.

I quickly pulled them out and bit into one. When I swallowed, sea water filled my throat and I had to run to the bathroom to cough it up. My head was still throbbing and I felt like I was going to throw up. Consequently, I did.

I stared at the green and pink vomit, specked with glitter.

Lots and lots of glitter.

"I didn't think I ate that much." I said and Cyprus looked at it too. She shrugged and flushed it away.

I sat on my bed, trying to ignore the smell of my hair. It was sickly, but France said it would go away when it dried.

I'd already picked up more pills from the pharmacy. Yeah, I was hording them, just so if something happened, I'd keep my sight. I had about a year and a half of pills all stocked up.

See? Paranoid.

I grabbed my scythe and twirled it in my fingers. It was made of Black Ironwood, so it had never broken. The blade didn't chip either.

I sighed and pulled it to my chest. I didn't sleep well because of my drunkenness, and I was still tired from all of the nights I hadn't slept well.

I laid back and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if I'd ever get a break from my nightmares.

It was night. I was standing on the bow of Old Dutchy's ship. This was were I gained reputation as a Sea Beggar, and where I gained my murderous instinct. I stepped over the rail and leaned forward, letting the cool sea air blow on my face. A few brush ups with First Kirkland and Third Kirkland didn't phase me as I danced on the outside of the rail, dangerously dangling off the rotting wood. I slipped a bit and caught myself before I plunged into the deep water, over 10 meters below me. I jumped back up on the rail and flipped forward on my hands, so I could walk on them across the wood. My feet swung back and forth as I walked. This was a trick Old Dutchy taught me. If I wanted to be a pirate, I needed to be dexterous. He treated me like his daughter. Well, son really, but details don't count. I started wobbling and nearly toppled over. I felt a hand on my wrist and looked up to see Imamu. He was a dead African pirate, who grow a softness for me. He was cursed to sail forever with Dutchy for some reason or other.

"Thank you!" I said as he set me on the deck.

"Be more careful." He muttered. He was a man of few words, and rarely ever talked to anyone but me. He was one of the only crew members that showed me respect. He said that gender doesn't matter, it's only a matter of the heart and how strong it is. Very poetic man too.

"I'll try." I sighed and watched him walk back inside the cabin. The tattoos on his arms, chest, and neck were interesting. They were easy to stare at for minutes on end. I flipped upside down again and started walking again.

That night was one of the most normal ones of my life.

I sighed and stumbled up. I looked around my room to see that it was still day time. I looked at the clock. 15:47.

I walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. I jumped back when I saw my younger self in the reflection. The pirate version of me stared. She had the cut up hair, that stuck up in all directions that I wore for the first fourth of my sailing. It was convenient, and it wouldn't matter if I didn't take care of it back then. I grew it out when I was a captain, to make the statement of a female being the leader.

I touched the mirror slowly, and my reflection acted as a normal one would. I blinked hard to try and get it out of my mind. Then a grin spread across the younger Me's face. I didn't do that.

"You don't commit." She said, loud enough for me to hear. "He'll never love you." I stared, questioningly, at the mirror. She mocked me. "You look so stupid like that."

"Shut up. I'm you in a couple hundred years." I said, feeling a little insane. "You shouldn't disrespect me."

"Pourquoi?" She asked, whining. "I'm stronger. Braver. Less attached. I have less to live for, therefore I can live longer."

"Shut up." I hissed. She leaned forward, and an invisible hand forced me down as well, like I was her reflection.

"But that's no fun!" She sneered and scrunched up her face. I felt my own twist up as well, involuntarily. "You look stupid while you're doing that."

"Shut up." I repeated.

"What for?" She asked and twirled around. My body did the same. "It's fun seeing you do this." She sighed. "You are just a weak old woman who can't even show emotion. That's pathetic."

"I SAID SHUT UP!" I screamed and slammed my fist into the mirror. It shattered and all fell onto the counter. My fist stayed on the wall, having shards of glass stabbed into it. Cyprus ran into the room and stared at me.

I probably looked insane, panting and staring at the wall where a mirror once was. I was just screaming at my reflection, she had reason to think I was crazy.

"Netherlands, come with me." She said and looked at my torn up hand. She pulled me into the front room and started disinfecting my hand. "Are you OK?" She asked, obviously concerned.

"Yeah, I'm just getting some bad memories."

"Well, we need to pack up and get you to the church." I was about to ask why, but I found out I truly didn't care.

A/N:Aardbeiengebakjes are Dutch strawberry pastries. I hope I spelled it right again.

First Kirkland is Scotland, Second Kirkland is England, Third Kirkland is Ireland, and so on and so forth.

Finally, Pourquoi? is Why? in French.