~•~•~Chapter 3~•~•~

(Veneziano's P.O.V.)

I let myself get pulled across the floor, looking around, vaguely wondering where I was. It looked almost... Familiar. The effects of the drug had nearly lifted completely, but I was still slightly groggy.

I could hear the door slam shut, and the sound of it being locked forced me to ignore the urge to save myself and run.

"You are stronger than you look... My leg is having pains from that kick. But it is no matter, you will be crying and begging me for the mercy in no time at all!" He gave an unstable smile, almost appearing as if he was going to cry.

He yanked on the chains, throwing me up onto a long table. It was splattered with dried blood, the stench that came from the room seconding that. There was an assortment of terrifyingly lethal instruments on top of a stack of old milk crates piled in the corner of the room, such as knives, stakes, needles, various jars of liquids and a box of rusty nails.

Russia leaned his iron pipe on the wall, where it settled with an echoing, 'clank'. He held me down on the table with a large, icy hand on my chest while grabbing a frayed rope and binding me to the table.

"So is it going to be the same kind of thing as my brother? You'll torture me until I submit? Break me with physical, and psychological damage?" I asked defiantly, hoping my voice didn't sound as weak as I felt.

Russia didn't answer, but picked up a needle, pricking the tip of my finger and smearing the blood on the palm of my hand.

I cringed, and he let out a terrifyingly humourless laugh. Russia looked down at me with perverse pleasure in his eyes. "You are weak. You can't even handle a little pinprick. You are the weakest nation, and always have been."

I bit my lip, feeling tears start to form in the corners of my eyes. Yes, I was the weakest nation. Always looked down on by others, always taken pity on... I was protected by the strong, ridiculed by the strongest.

"You have always been such a burden to your allies... Why bother living...?" Russia purred, his voice starting to become almost... Soothing.

I couldn't take the guilt. I had always tried to cover up my fears and weaknesses with my carefree attitude, just as my brother had used anger, but there was no use in that now. My secret was out.

A sharp pain in my left wrist solicited a cry of anguish.

"Stop!" I yelled, my tears now flowing freely down my cheeks.

"You would disappoint your brother? He was able to withstand my knife for fifteen minutes before he showed even the slightest bit of weakness." His voice held so much glee. He was enjoying this... Russia took pleasure in hurting people. "You're so incredibly weak."

I shut my eyes tightly, feeling warm blood trickle down my arm. I couldn't submit yet. There was no way I could provide him with the entertainment he wanted. It was wrong... It was wrong, and I needed to show him that I would not let him hurt Romano again.

Russia dragged the knife across my shoulder this time, and I could feel the thin metal blade slicing through my skin.

I bit my tongue hard, tasting blood. I would not show weakness. I was the grandson of the Roman Empire... He had taught me better.

A new sensation issued from my hand. My torturer was pouring one of the liquids from a bottle onto the palm of my hand. It stung, but at the same time, soothed me, almost like peroxide on a wound.

I vaguely wondered what the substance was, and whether it was lethal or not.

Russia drove the knife into my hand, and I screamed. It was pure agony. My ears rang and I panted hard as I realized what the liquid had been. It must have been some type of poison that makes you hallucinate instantly... I looked down at my hand, reassuring myself that it was only my imagination. The muddy substance dripped off my hand as I turned it over. I tried to calm down, telling myself that this was all just one big hallucination. But that was quickly shattered when the russian turned me over so that I was on my stomach...

"You will be my fourth..." He spoke softly.

He held a different, more blunt knife in his hand, wielding it like a dagger. Russia sliced the skin on my back, precisely, and with a practiced hand. I tensed, knowing that this was real.

I could feel the letters being carved into my flesh. I-V-A-N B-R-A-G-I-N-S-K-I. It spelled out his human name. I called out for my brother, in so much pain from the blunt knife scraping across my back, that I didn't care what happened to me.

"R-Romano! Help... Help me...! Brother..."

Russia bent down and took up a handful of dirt from the floor, and rubbed it roughly on my wounds. I knew exactly what he was doing. It would almost certainly scar now.

Now I would have his brand on me. I was his toy; his punching bag.

He turned away for a moment, contemplating his next move before picking up yet another knife, running it against the back of his hand. He seemed to decide against it, and picked up another, and another, testing it on his own skin. It was like he was teasing me, showing that he was not afraid of pain; or self mutilation for that matter.

He finally decided on one with a nicked blade, that looked quite old and worn from use. The wooden handle moulded to the contours of his hand. He smiled as he looked down at it. "Once again, I pick my favourite. My fourth knife for my fourth victim... It is fitting, da?"

He brought the knife to my skin, the cold metal resting on my warm skin. I shuddered violently, knowing the pain that was just moments away. The russian laughed as his favourite knife cut into me. It was hard to breathe. Even harder to cry out. I was too exhausted to protest or voice my pain. The amount of pain was next to nothing compared to my brother's, and yet I was so weak that I had already given in. My last thought as I lost my grip on consciousness was a hope that he would leave poor Romano alone.

A/N: I hope this isn't too short a chapter... Anyways, there's a torture chapter out of the way. How was it? It's the first time I've ever written anything this dark. *shudder* I looked up a few different medieval torture devices, and there were some REALLY nasty ones. Ripping off limbs, being forced to sit on a giant metal spike... Ugh. Well, tell me what you guys think!