Has anyone else noticed how both Englands' food kills people? Oliver and his DeathCakes then England with his DeathScones...

I own nothing, but the plot... yada yada.

England POV:

The click of the lighter echoed through the room for a millisecond, before it was interrupted by the nauseating smell of burnt flesh and the wailing screams of pain. I closed my eyes until it would end.

"Now, now England. Keep your eyes open poppet!" My 2p spoke to me and my eyes were forced open. Realization dawned on me, physical torture was Alfred's weak spot. I couldn't be swayed by physical, mental torture was my weakness. That's why Alfred was receiving pain. They were hitting two birds with one stone. Clever. My thoughts were interrupted by a choked sob. The cloud of haze left my vision as welled up tears started to fall. His arm was worse than before. I noticed the black and red blisters upon raw flesh. He had tears streaming down his face. I couldn't tell if it was from the mental breakdown or the physical trauma. I needed a way to speak to the other countries. We needed help, desperately. The braces were released from Alfred's arms and legs, igniting a spark of hope in my mournful heart. The hope died as he was dragged away, the gloved hand giving no care to the scared arm. The sudden contact made him yelp, which earned a tighter grip. Light were illuminating them as they walked down a different hallway and into a similar room. After an hour of waiting my braces were opened and I was dragged in the same direction as Alfred. Damnit. I lost my chance to escape. My body was forced against a white wall and my arms were chained above my head. On my left was my former colony. Oliver walked in while pushing a cart. Grabbing a long knife, he went up to me. That caught Alfred's attention.

America POV:

"Make a smart move Alfred. One wrong move and he will be the next ingredient in my cupcakes."

"Wouldn't it be better to put me through physical labor, it would hurt both of us. Arthur can deal with physical pain, not me. Whereas, I can deal with mental pain and he cannot." Lies. I had a very weak mental state, it was a disorder called, Major Depression. I also had Anxiety Disorder. (Major Depression: A mood disorder causing a persistent feeling of sadness and loss of interest. Anxiety Disorder: A mental health disorder characterized by feelings of worry, anxiety, or fear that are strong enough to interfere with one's daily activities.)

"Hmm. I suppose you are right, for once you had a good idea!" He leaned over to me. The long blade glinting in the light.

"I don't suppose that you like your good arm. Do you?"

"I-I…"

"I didn't think so! I will get the materials!" He whispered in my ear before dashing off. "Let's not forget that you are doing this for England. Even if he hates you." He lightly dragged the blade across my cheek as he set down the materials. As if on cue, my "good" arm was released from its prison of chains. England looked at me worried, and confused as to what I agreed to. As Oliver pulled out the bone saw he started yelling.

"DON'T YOU DARE SEVER ALFRED'S ARM! DO IT TO ME INSTEAD!"

"Oh, but as he said, you are horrible mentally. Nothing would benefit us from the 'United Bloody Kingdom' losing an arm, now would it?" He held up a dagger and cut around my shoulder. The silver bone saw was raised and was placed into the cut. It started doing its job until my dislocated arm was on the ground. I wanted to empty by stomach. I wanted to do something to stop the horrible pain from what is left of my shoulder. That's when I cried harder.

"You seem to be in pain. Would you like a numbing shot in your arm? Oh wait. You are missing it." He picked up the severed arm with a bloody glove and put it into the cart. He left while whistling the British national anthem.

"A-America… Why did you do that…?" I weakly opened my eyes and looked at him.

"I-I couldn't s-stand seeing y-you in p-pain that I c-could have p-prevented… S-So I p-prevented it..." I looked away and let the void of darkness take me, hearing England's last words before I lost consciousness.

"I love you Alfred, and thank you."