Hey guys. I'm sorry this took so long, but I've had so much homework and laptop troubles with a side order of drama, and you get the idea. But I am here now, friends! Here only to write more (hopefully) horrifying words. Shorter chapter, but I'll make sure the next one is longer. I guess I can say this chapter is in honor of the fact that Himapapa updated the blog... Davie... oh god... Guys, do you hear that sound? That's the sound of my heart shattering.

Chapter warnings: Foul language, blood, gore, character death

"I'm afraid," Seychelles whispered, breaking the silence that had previously engulfed the room. She tried to focus on her shoes but she kept glancing over at France and the horrible mutilation that marred his back.

"Me, too," Latvia nodded, shaking like a leaf.

"It'll be alright," Austria said, smiling weakly.

"You can't lie to them like that," Hungary hissed to him, quiet enough so no one else would hear.

"Yes I can," Austria replied quietly. "Would you rather I tell them the truth? That we're probably all going to at least be horribly tortured, if not killed, in this place?"

Hungary blinked and grew silent, looking away from the Austrian.

"Cuba still isn't back," Germany said, looking up. All the countries stared at the spot where the Cuban man had been tethered to the floor. He had been gone for almost four hours. No one wanted to say anything as they realized what had happened. The average 'session' with Canada lasted about an hour. So far, out of their little group, only France had been taken. This was the first time Cuba had been, and he hadn't returned.

"Cuba was always mistaking Canada for America, no matter what happened." France sighed. "Matthew might have thought…"

France trailed off, but they all knew where he was going. Germany took a deep breath and finished the statement. "… Zat Cuba was beyond saving."

"No, I won't do it." Japan shook his head, pushing the plate of food away from him. "If you can't eat anything, America-san, then I won't, either."

"You need to eat, dude. And like I said, its fine." Alfred said from the other side of the glass. They were in conjoined cells, separated by what seemed to be an unbreakable plane of glass. There weren't any bars at the front of the cell, either, just another glass wall with a sliding door on each that locked from the outside.

"But it's not fair that I get to eat and you don't. It'd be wrong of me to just flaunt all this food around right in front of you when you have none." Japan shook his head.

"I'm not a big fan of pancakes, anyway." America smiled weakly. Though Canada had been sure to keep Kiku well-fed, Alfred hadn't had so much as a morsel since they awoke in the glass jail cells. It'd had been almost twenty four hours, and America was starving. Japan had tried every possible way he could think of to somehow get the food to him, but it just wasn't possible.

Japan still hesitated, so America added, "Just because I go hungry doesn't mean both of us should."

Kiku sighed and ate the pancakes quickly, being sure to turn his back to Alfred so he didn't have to watch. Just as he finished, a quiet voice came from the hallway.

"Alfred, I have something for you," Canada said.

"Is it food?" Alfred said hopefully.

Canada laughed. "No, I'm afraid not." He reached into a messenger bag with the Canadian flag on it and pulled out several cords, each with little suction cups on the end. He flipped open the mail slot-like opening in America's glass door (too small for an arm to fit through, they'd tried) and tossed the sucking-cup sides of the wires in, keeping a good hold of the other end, which all attached to a remote control-like device that Canada held in his hands.

"Attach those to yourself, please," Matthew said, using another cord to plug the device into the wall.

"Why on Earth would I do that?" America gapped.

"Well for one, if you don't…" Canada hastily unlocked the door to Japan's cell and before either of them knew what was happening, Canada had an arm around Japan's neck and a pistol pressed up against his head. "I'll shoot him."

"O-okay," America swallowed hard, eyes wide. He quickly picked up the wires and pressing the little suction cups to his skin in random places.

"Good boy," Canada smiled wickedly, ruffling Kiku's hair before stepping back outside and closing the door again. He picked up the device and ran his finger lightly over it, narrowed eyes trying to decide which brightly colored button was best to press. He gave a little shrug and pressed down.

Alfred's eyes widened to sizes Japan hadn't even known were possible, and his entire body was flung against the ground, his back arching. His scream drowned out most of the crackling electricity that Canada was sending through his body. He scrapped at the ground with his nails and kicked with his feet, unable to stop the pain. Japan leapt for the glass and banged his fists up against it, but there was nothing he could do except watch as Alfred writhed in agony. It was almost an eternity, it seemed, until Canada finally pressed a button to stop the flow of electricity. Alfred's back flattened against the stone and his eyes were squeezed shut, tears flowing freely down his face.

"America-san!" Japan shouted worriedly, but if America heard him then he didn't show it. Canada tugged on the cords until they popped off, leaving red circles on the American's skin where they'd been attached, and pulled them out of the cell to shove in his bag again.

He waved to them as he walked away; calling over his shoulder, "See you again tomorrow, Alfred."

Wham!

The feeling of a hockey stick connecting with Austria's back drove the air out of him, causing him to slam his eyes shut and grit his teeth. He'd stopped screaming a long time ago, and had stopped struggled even farther back. It was useless. The hockey stick smacked against the back of his leg and he took a quick intake of breath. It wasn't so much a stinging slap as being hit with the Canadian equivalent of a baseball bat.

They'd been at this for what felt like days for the Austrian, minutes for the Canadian beating him, and about thirty-five minutes to anyone not involved. With that long an amount of time and each hit delivered with such power, it shouldn't have been that long before-

"God damn it!" Canada cursed as he connected the stick to Austria's abdomen and it let out a loud, resonating snap. "Stick broke…"

Austria didn't say anything, just closed his eyes and breathed heavily. It wasn't that Canada had broken him; it was just that he saw no point in saying anything. Or opening his eyes. Or moving. In fact, it was probably better that he wasn't moving, as it was entirely possible that some of his ribs had been broken and would puncture his lung if he moved. Judging, however, by the blood dripping from the side of his mouth, something inside him had already gotten seriously messed up by the encounter.

"Alright, come on, Roderick." Canada said interrupting his thoughts by pulling him to his feet rather roughly. Austria couldn't help but let out a whimper. Austria just glared at him barely able to stand. Canada pointed to the red liquid smeared on the Austrian's cheek, and innocently said, "You have, eh, a little blood on your face."

"Let me go you barbaric douche nozzle!" Hungary demanded as she was dragged down the hallway by her ankles. The spot on her arm where Canada had injected was red, as if about to break out into a rash. The poison that had been in the needle was surging through her veins, paralyzing her. Its icy grip on her limbs was the only thing she could feel.

"I can't do that," Canada said, smiling apologetically.

"Yes you can! Just pull me back to the room! Or better yet, LET US OUT!"

"Now you know I couldn't do that, you'd all just declare war on my country."

"And with good reason!"

They reached a door at the end of the hallway, grey and faded and plastic. The hinges were rusted and they squealed when Matthew threw the door open. He dragged her inside, and she glanced around, her head being the only thing she had control over. He was bringing her into a kitchen of some sort, the wall lined with knives and ovens and refrigerators. The floor was checkered white and black, and stained with little drops of blood. The walls, once white, were turning yellow and mold was crawling its way up the corners.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to cook you," He said noticing the horrified look on her face. He pulled her towards a huge refrigerator and dropped her legs to open the doors. "You will be going in here though."

"No." She said instantly. "God, no."

"I'm sorry," He picked her up by the waist and shoved her into the freezer, folding up her legs so she would fit. "But there's no other way."

"Fuck you." She hissed.

"Sorry, Russia's already doing that." He laughed at his own joke. "Well, I suppose it's really the other way around, but, eh, technicalities. Oh, I almost forgot, got to make sure you can feel it…" He took another syringe out of his jacket and injected it into her neck, and her feeling began to return to her, starting with her neck and shoulders and working its way downward. "Hopefully I won't forget you're in here…"

And with that, he closed the door. The light stayed on inside the freezer and she was already covered in goose bumps and trembling horribly. Her breath billowed in front of her, and by the time her feeling had returned to her fingers they were already starting to turn blue. She flexed them to keep the blood pumping and the hypothermia at bay. She looked around the refrigerator. It could have fit two people on each shelf, but only if they were sitting, and it seemed to be completely empty, except for a square metal container sitting beside her.

Reaching over with shaking hands, she pulled it closer to her with some difficulty. It felt about fifty pounds, and it was growing more difficult to clutch much of anything with her fingers. Once she pulled it closer, it took almost ten whole minutes to work the top off, and once it came off she wished she hadn't been able to get it open at all. Sitting there in a bed of ice inside the box was Cuba's severed head. His eyes had sunken back into his skull but the dull orbs still stared at her as if asking her why she hadn't been able to save him, full of horror like they held the visions of their final moments locked within their pupils. His skin was purple… and his lips were pale… and she screamed.