'Why are you just sitting there? Get up! Fight! They skipped you again. AGAIN! Come on. DO something! COME ON!'

With a soft groan, Canada clutched his head, curling in on himself on his chair. They had skipped him again. Skipped, ignored, and forgotten him. And the voice was getting an unusually good grasp on him.

'They forgot you! You'll NEVER be remembered! You're the America look alike. THAT'S ALL YOU'LL EVER BE!'

He was on his feet now, his stuff gathered in his arms, running out of the room. No stopped him. No one spoke to him. No one even looked at him.

'No one cares… When are you going to learn…? When are you going to understand?! NO ONE CARES! No one cares! No one cares. No one cares…'

It kept repeating as it receded into the depths of Matthew's mind. Only succeeding in making the poor Canadian run faster, faster, and faster.

Before long, Matthew burst into his house and threw his stuff onto the ground. He curled up in the corner and rocked back and forth. The tears apparent on his pale face, glinting in the lamp light of Canada's living room. The voice spoke no longer, but the impact of the words stayed. As if they were sliced into his mind with a sharp dagger.

It had been easy to ignore at first. Just a whisper Canada never paid attention to. But over the past few years, it had gotten louder. Now… It was a scream.

He was going nuts. It was killing him from the inside out, trying to live with it while it destroyed his hope of ever being seen or recognized.

Slowly, he stood and steadied himself on the wall.

"P-Pancakes. I n-n-need p-p-pa-pancakes." Walking to the kitchen, he effortlessly made his favorite fluffy food, drowning them in hazel brown deliciousness. While he was pouring the syrup on top of the stack of pancakes, he could have sworn he saw a different color mixed into the light brown. But when he double checked, there was nothing there but regular, sugary goodness.

Canada ate his pancakes calmly. The voice had not returned, and for that he was thankful. However, his thoughts soon drifted to his meeting tomorrow. He was dreading it. It wasn't a world meeting, but a meeting nonetheless. Not that it mattered if he actually showed up or not. They wouldn't recognize him at first and try to have him arrested. Again.

It was always the same. 'Who are you?! No outsiders! Authorized personal only! GET OUT!'

With a sigh Matthew dumped his dishes into the washer and dragged himself upstairs. To his delight, he fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow. But that is the only good thing that came out of that night…

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / Canada's POV / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

'It's dark. Very dark… Where am I? It's cold to. Not unbearably. Mon dieu this is kind of scary!' I walked forward in the black. Trying to find a wall. It wasn't very easy. 'Is this a large room or am I outside?' It didn't feel like I was outside, but I was starting to believe that's where I was. Not long after, I found a wall. But, it was really soft. Kind of fluffy feeling. Unusual for a wall.

'Oh! A wall. Now if I could just find a light switch.' That search was harder than the first. I stumbled across the floor, keeping a hand on the wall. It didn't take me long to trip on something. This "something" had a sort of steel frame. 'A bed maybe?' I grabbed the steel frame and edged around it, before I sat down. For some reason I was suddenly tired. Like right after an adrenaline rush. 'I have to figure out where I am. But, maybe… a quick nap won't hurt.'

I laid down and felt the bed was quite soft. But, it was also kind of wet closer to the middle of it. At first I panicked and felt disgusted about what I thought it was. 'Stupid French ancestry.' I touched it again and still couldn't quite place what it was. Against my better judgment I brought my fingers to my face and smelled them. There was a light, almost untraceable scent of… iron? 'Oh no!'

I jumped off the bed as quick as I could, and cried out in shock. 'There's blood on the bed! Holy shit. Holy Shit. O-Oh m-maple!' My stomach started to churn and started desperately looking for a light switch.

THUMP!

I froze. 'W-What was t-that?' I stood absolutely slient. I started slowly turning my back to the wall and looked into the darkness. That's when the laughter started. Quiet at first but quickly gaining volume. Hesitant, then maniacal. The male voice sounded scary familiar.

"Heh…. Ha…. Ha ha… HA. AHAHAHAHA!" The sound of footfalls filled my ears as I trembled against the wall.

I was thinking that he was heading to go away, but I was soon blinded by light. He had turned the lights on. By the time I finished rubbing my eyes to ease the pain, I knew he had moved. I didn't want to open my eyes, but knew I had to. But I instantly regretted it.

When my eyes opened, a scream, which I didn't recognize as my own, filled my ears and scraped my throat. Standing in front of me, was me. But it wasn't a mirror. I was standing in front of myself. Only while I was clean, shy, and terrified; this me was drenched in the red substance I know to be blood. The crimson liquid dripped off of a giant meat cleaver in his left hand, creating a puddle at his feet. He stood straight and tall, no fear could be seen. On top of that, as my lip quivered in fear, his lips curled back and a wicked, red toothed smile shone. The look in his eyes…. Psychopathic. 'I-I-Is t-this person ME?!'

He took a step forward and then another, soon I was pinned to the wall. He opened his mouth and began to speak… "Why are you just sitting there? Get up! Fight! They skipped you again. AGAIN! Come on. DO something! COME ON!" My eyes widened. 'The voice…'

"They forgot you! You'll NEVER be remembered! You're the America look alike. THAT'S ALL YOU'LL EVER BE!" I somehow regained my voice.

"N-No. S-S-Stop! B-Brother k-k-knows who I am! I-I know h-he does!" I can't even fool myself. I don't think he believed me.

"No one cares… When are you going to learn…? When are you going to understand?! No one cares… No one cares. No one cares! NO ONE CARES!" Instead of the usual loud then quiet. It was quiet. Then got louder and louder.

I clutched my head and hit my knees. "Stop!"

"NO ONE CARES! NO ONE CARES! NO ONE CARES!" He stopped. I looked up tears in my eyes, to see him getting onto his knees in front of me. He smiled evilly and spoke again, "No one cares. No one remembers… But that's the fun! Remind them. But do it in a way, they will NEVER forget who you are again…" He slowly and creepily turned his head towards the bed. Against my better judgment, I did as well.

I felt like screaming at the sight, but something held me back. I couldn't speak. I couldn't look away. On the bed I had been on minutes before, was a body. It was mutilated. So much so I couldn't truly recognize it.

"Do you know who he is?" The other me was staring at me expectantly.

"N-No. I c-can't recognize him." He burst out laughing. I watched as he walked over to the other side of the room. He bent down and picked something off the floor. When he turned and faced me, he held a jacket in his hands. But not just any jacket… A jacket that made me heart clench. A strange feeling spread through me, as I stared at the military jacket; of my brother Alfred.

It was soaked in blood, and was torn in multiple spots. But not only was I shocked at the fact that my was dead, KILLED no less, but I was also shocked at the…. JOY I felt. The joy of being the one to not recognize HIM for once. It… THRILLED me.

"Heheheheheh." I turned back to the version of me when he began to laugh. "See what anger can do?! SEE?! You couldn't recognize him… YOU couldn't recognize HIM! My work here is done…. Talk to you later... Hehheheheheheh."