Well, this was definitely the most exciting chapter I have written so far. It feels like each chapter of this story becomes more exciting to write.

It's kind of short, but oh well.

America was in the middle of doing some sit-ups in his bedroom when he heard a knock on his door. He grunted with annoyance why can't he just leave me alone? He was still wearing his long sleeved jacket in order to cover up his arms, so he didn't have to worry about hiding his scars in the most awkward, and suspicious way. The moment he had opened the door, England asked in a firm voice, "I know you're not telling me the truth."

Stubbornly, America decided to play dumb, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Fear was present in England's eyes as he growled, "You really think I believed you were fighting off a bunch of feral dogs!? It's all rubbish! No dog bite looks like multiple straight cuts!"

No! He can't find out! America thought with panic, beginning to feel extremely queasy. Somehow, he was able to mask all of those negative emotions as he continued to object, "I told you it was a few dog bites, whether you want to believe so or not. It is what it is!"

England quickly realized that the argument was only stalling his investigation, so he decided to bring out some more ammo to use against America's denial, in hopes that the words would hit the younger nation right in the spot, "I would also like to know why there's only a few morsels of food in your kitchen."

America glared at England, speaking in a monotone, "Because tomorrow is grocery day."

England shook his head, "Not only are you cutting yourself, but you're starving yourself as well! You need to stop this!"

Tears blurred America's vision, he yelled out, "I'M NOT ANOREXIC! I'M NOT CUTTING MYSELF! Then his voice lowered to a weak whimper, "I just wish you'd leave me alone."

The island nation pulled America into a light hug. All of the previous anger in his voice was now gone, replaced by a much more soft tone, "A lot of people care about you Alfred. You shouldn't be ashamed of yourself."

America forced himself out of the hug, "But there's so much to be ashamed of."

England tried his best to be reassuring, "Look, I'm willing to help you out of this depression. I'm willing to help you break the habit. I just really hate seeing you hurt yourself."

Shaking his head, America mumbled, "I just want to die."

"Alfred!" England yelled out in panic, but America continued, "I just want to die and end all of this misery. I'm sick to being a burden to everyone. You must hate me for everything I've done to you. I don't blame you, how can anyone forgive someone as ungrateful as me?"

Feeling weak, England replied, "A-alfred, none of that's true. I would be devastated if you died."

"No you wouldn't." More tears fell from America's eyes as he walked over to his closet, "I stole so much from you, but the worst I had done was crush your pride. Just for my own selfish intentions."

America opened the closet door, digging through to the darkest corner where he hid the box containing his knife. He opened up the box to take out the knife and added, "Now it is time for me to give back what's rightfully yours."

At first England was too shocked to move. His former colony was holding a knife for crying out loud! The shock didn't last for long when America lifted the knife up to his neck, as if he was about to slit his own throat. As soon as the self destruction was about to take place, England snapped out of his shock, and

immediately charged at America while crying out, "NO!"

Before America could actually go through with killing himself, England managed to grab the knife out of America's hand and throw it out of his reach. America had tried to retrieve it, but was stopped as England held him back. America struggled frantically, panic gripped at his heart. He had be so close, so close to ending it all. To finally being at peace, and it was the only time he had the bravery to make such an attempt.

"Alfred, calm down!" England told the nation who was now hyperventilating. England's voice seemed to snap him out of his thoughts, but he was still having a panic attack none the less. Lowering his voice, England advised, "Come on, you need to slow down your breathing. You're going to pass out if you keep hyperventilating like that."

America obeyed, trying his best to take deep breaths. Eventually, he was breathing at a more reasonable paste. England held America in a less restraining way, and stroked his hair in encouragement as he said in a soothing voice, "That's it, just focus on your breathing."

Eventually, England had both himself and America sit down on the bed. He figured that America was exhausted, and it would be best for him to rest. England had started rubbing circles around America's back, his former colony still seemed quite tense. England continued speaking in his soft voice, "It's going to be okay. Things will be better, I promise."

Fresh tears formed in America's eyes as he retorted, "Why couldn't you just let me die? I was so close."

"Shh." England hugged America and soothed, "Don't say such things."

America was beginning to feel drowsy from all of the crying, and England felt so warm to his body, which currently seemed to lack basic heat retention. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so comfortable, and with all of the strain he had put on himself lately, it only made this moment feel so much better. Eventually, America had fallen asleep in England's arms.