1966 ( 4 months later )

England visited, angering Vietnam to a whole new level. He and America spent their afternoons together, doing so many things. Vietnam wanted to get rid of England, so one day she found him without America.

He was sitting on a bench, admiring the scenery while humming a classical song. The bench was very close to the lake that lied ahead. She began to wonder if pushing him in the water was better then just stabbing him repeatedly. Then again, there was a railing. He spotted her creeping up, then said, "Oh dear. Tell me, how's it going between you and America?"

"It's been very bad. You're the only one he wants. Not me."

"Why would he want you? You two are at war with each other."

Vietnam dug her nails into her palm. "Because we made a deal to protect each other. He used to love me before this conflict, but now he likes you."

England started laughing at her, then raised his eyebrows. "You don't make deals like that when you are against each other, dear girl. He hates you."

That hurt Vietnam. She felt as if she had been pierced in the chest by a thorn. England's choice of words hurt her, making her feel weak. It made her not want to hurt him. If America hated her, she didn't want to continue trying to get him to love her. It was a useless cycle.

England's expression softened when he saw a tear trickle down her cheek. "Well, when I say 'hate' I mean he just doesn't love you. I'm sorry, but unless you surrender this war, you two can't be friends."

The sadistic streak struck her mind, and she grabbed him. "Don't tell me to surrender! It would be such a disappointment if America found you with a broken neck on this bench, just like my family would be when they find out that I surrendered. I'll make sure I don't surrender though. I'll fight America until I'm sure he's burning in hell!"

England grabbed her back. "If you kill him, I'll make sure the world goes to war with you!"

Vietnam looked into his green eyes, trying to detect what kind of man he was. A hand grabbed her shoulder, shoving her off of him. It took her a while to process what just happened. She didn't want to find out who just took her away from England. Not when she was so close to killing him.

"That woman just attacked me! I did nothing to her!" England lied, pointing to her.

"You horrible bitch!" America screamed. He seized her right hand, then pulled her closer to him. Vietnam grabbed his other hand, digging her nails into it until she could feel some liquid drizzling down her sleeve. It made her feel sick to attack her own friend. He didn't let go of her, and pushed her against the railing.

China had taught her to be strong, but he never taught her martial arts like he did to the rest. America put more pressure against her, and now the railing was stabbing her back.

England pulled America off of her, saying, "Careful! You might kill her, imbecile!"

Vietnam decided not to show gratitude to the Englishman, and just ran away in terror. She felt betrayed and started to cry.

Not only was she starving, but Vietnam began to feel sick. The new clothing she had bought was now making her feel uncomfortable. The next world meeting was coming up soon, and she didn't want to see anyone.

China noticed she was depressed, so he got her a glass of water. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Why didn't you ever teach me Kung-fu?"

China rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I didn't know you wanted to learn. I could teach you now if you'd like."

Vietnam looked away, tears forming in her eyes. "I never had self defense when I need it. I wish I could get over this love-hate relationship with America."

"You're traumatized, just like I was when Japan scarred my back..."

He wrapped his arms around her.