Although Britain had lied to me, it was only a great relief to have him back home. Wrapped up in a sling, Britain's arm had been secured and stitched. The injury itself had been worse than either France and I had assumed, where the cuts had reached all the way to the bones. Bones that had also been broken by the strength of a jagged jaw.

After learning of the extent of his injury, Britain remind us, "It could have been France's neck. Better this than that."

Promptly upon his arrival, Britain sat himself down wearily on the couch. France dropped in beside him to say, "We all need to talk… I told Canada some things while you were gone."

I fidgeted in guilt, when Britain jolted and demanded, "Did you tell him-"

"Not about the person, no… Just some experiences."

Before me, the web of lies had been confirmed by Britain's reaction. I stood and stared over at them in shock as France continued,"He knows I was with you and what we really had to do to contain him. Then… I told him about what happened to you."

Britain groaned and sighed simultaneously, covering his face with his hand. "What was the worse thing that you told him?"

"That we had to slice the tendons, and exactly how you were hurt."

"W-wait." I approached them. "Is there something worse than that?"

"No," Britain replied. "That is about it."

"I-I don't believe you…"

Britain said, "I know… but please do. You can only get through this whole thing if you do."

"You've lied so much to me," I muttered. "It is… just impossible to believe you now, whenever you tell me that it is okay. It… was never okay…"

"Please, Canada," France cut in. "Be kind. We don't have any other choice."

"You could just tell me everything," I replied simply. "And end all these secrets."

"We have only done what was best for you," Britain answered me. "If I had told you any more than I had in the beginning, you would have never been able to mentally survive the task. And only you could have pretended to be America."

"But what is the point anymore?" I moaned. "You've just revealed that it will get even worse… My mind will run off now, imagining what could possibly happen. I might think of things worse than reality… You know that I've already done that, wondering if I should freeze my own brother… Not knowing is just driving me insane!"

"The entire story would drive you insane…" France murmured. "You just can't let yourself think like this… hurting yourself. Ignore the future and focus on everything you have to do now."

"I am almost done," Britain affirmed. "This time was much quicker than the last, so I doubt that we will ever have to go to the extremes that we did. Yes, fine. It got worse. But it will not happen this time because the job is getting done faster."

"But America is a lot stronger than your friend was," I countered. "He heals faster too. So… so I think those worse things will happen!"

Britain's eyes flashed up and then squeezed shut. He had been caught. He had been thinking exactly the same thing.

"Then… We will take care of it so that you don't have to. If it becomes necessary."

France waved at me to sit with us, since I was still distant from them and standing in the middle of the room. I could not resist the gentleness of his beckoning, so I broke and came to them.

France moved over so that I could sit in the middle. On either side, faces dipped and watched me, wondering what I would do or say. In all honesty, I wanted to submit to self-woe and cry, but I was not sure what they were hiding from me, and if I should still feel bitter towards them. Instead, I carried a detached expression that worried them.

France touched my back. "We are here for you. Always."

"Why…" I breathed.

"Why what?" France responded.

I directed my attention upon Britain. "Why did you come, instead of just searching for the last ingredients? Why are you wasting your time here?"

"Because I can't let you be alone all the time," he murmured. "I want to help you stay sane. Then, of course, I needed to see how far America had gone."

"You don't need to stay," I muttered. "I would rather that you use your precious vacation time now to look for more plants."

"So you want me to go?"

"It is better if you do."

"And France?"

I looked at him. There was no particular reason for him to leave, even if he was also hiding things from me.

"He can stay," I replied. "So there. I won't be lonely."

France appeared conflicted. "But… Britain has just arrived here and he is injured now. He should rest with us."

"Is this an excuse? Do you just want him around because something might happen with America?"

"No, but yes," Britain replied. "I do want to stay here, to get a sense of his healing rate."

I was becoming ever the more frustrated since I wanted this whole ordeal to be over as quickly as possible. I did not want to have to wait for a cure, where Britain sat around my house doing mundane things with me. These worse things that I had learned about, changed everything.

"So that is it then. You're staying," I stated, huffing with annoyed acceptance. "And it will take one more month to cure him."

He nodded.

After everything that had happened, I didn't know if I could believe him anymore. I did not want to confront them either, but this frustration was overboiling. I snapped to my feet and abandoned France's comforting touches, moving away deeper into my home.

"Where are you going?" France gasped. "Canada-"

Britain hopped up and tried to catch up to me.

"You're upset with us, mostly me… I know," he said. "But I am sorry. It hurts me to do this to you."

I could not force myself to be so stubborn. I glanced back at him, my heart breaking at the sight of him. It was so easy to forgive him when he looked so thin and hurt both physically and emotionally. There was too much of a shine in his green eyes, and I became afraid that he would cry. I had already seen that and I could not see it again.

No matter what, he is sad too. I can't be so harsh to him.

France was watching as I carefully hugged Britain and his injury.

"I will forgive you…" I said loud enough for both of them to hear. "But… I would like some time alone."

"Al-alright… Very well."

Britain backed away and allowed me to gather what I wanted undisturbed. I went into the bathroom and precisely gelled my hair into place. I set in eye contacts, changing the colour of my eyes from purple to blue, and then America's glasses completed the appearance. After having had collected his laptop, cord, and a pair of headphones into a backpack, I headed towards the door with purpose.

"Where are you going?" France asked.

"Just… out," I answered. "Take care of Kumaharou if he wants anything. I… I don't know how long I will be gone."

I went into America's side, which smelled strongly of cleaners. Glancing at the walls were the struggle had taken place, there was no indication that anything had ever happened here. I borrowed America's wallet and keys, but before I could depart in America's car, Britain and France came up to me.

"Why did you put on your disguise?" Britain inquired. "Really, where are you going?"

"There's… someone I want to see."

"At least put on a jacket," he said mildly, decisively not pressing me any further about my choice.

He fetched me America's favorite jacket, which was thick enough for the cold. Reminiscent of what I had done for Britain, he passed me the warm piece of clothing out of concern. I slipped it on and imaged myself in his eyes: the perfect copy of America. I retook my backpack, then waved a goodbye to them.

I wanted a quiet place, but also somewhere with Internet access. I ended up going to a library, retreating to the top floor and to a corner, where there were hardly any people. America's computer was taken out, then I plugged in some headphones before trying to log on to the Wifi. I huffed when I became blocked and in need of a library card to access it.

It had been obvious, but fixable. I gained the aid of a wanderer among the shelves, explaining that I absolutely needed the Internet and did not have a card. By fortune, had I come across a generous person, and was soon connected.

I took my seat again and was left in peace. Letting out a sigh, I wrote my first message to Russia.

Hey, are you busy?

This time, he did not respond. It did not show that he was online, but I would wait for as long as necessary. My hands ran over and through my hair, before settling on my nape. I stared at the screen for a few minutes, then shook my head. There were better ways to spend my time, when there was a pile of work to be done.

I tried to focus on a responsible task instead, but was often distracted by imagining the conservation that I wanted to have with Russia. I impatiently reloaded the page again and again, but he had not even seen the message. There was another attempt to work, but I groaned and abandoned it all.

I dropped my chin onto the desk and pulled my hair, squeezing out a few tears from my eyes.

I just want someone…

I dried my eyes and stayed in this collapsed position for a long time. Eventually, a bling came through the headphones and I shot up.

I am done now, Russia had written. What is it?

My fingers fell over the keyboard. I really want to talk to you

Why?

I need someone to talk to

Russia wrote, Is something wrong?

Call me if you can

Promptly, there was a ringing. I answered Russia's call, straightening myself up. He appeared on screen wearing a black suit and dark undershirt, fresh from some kind of business. The darkness of his clothes lighted up his face, where his irises and hair seemed brighter and more clear. Those violet eyes swept over me, confused and worried about the haunted face of America that I as well, could see on the computer.

"Why did you want to talk to me?" he asked. "Me when… you have others?"

"Something came up and… I can't really trust others anymore."

Russia said, "Why is that? What happened?"

"Well… I just realized that I've been lied to for a long time. That I am not safe, but just made to believe that. There was some horrible things that happened too, but no one wants to tell me anything."

"This sounds normal," Russia smiled. "Are you surprised by something like this?"

"No, I mean… I can't really give you the specifics, but I don't think you've ever experienced something like… I am."

"I have lived for long time. I think that I know worse things."

I bowed my head. "No, seriously, this is something that you have never seen. Ever."

"And why can you not tell me what it is? Is it confidential thing?"

"Not… really…" I shivered. "Just something you wouldn't believe."

"Tell me," he insisted. "It does not sound like problem."

I grew anxious at his nonchalance. This was not how I had wanted him to react, and now I did not know how to gain his sympathy without revealing too much.

"It… Britain got hurt. Here, at my place..."

Some surprise crossed his face at last. Russia asked, "Hurt in what way?"

"His arm is broken and torn up. There was an insane amount of blood everywhere."

Russia fixed his tie. "This is a strange problem you are talking about. What is it?"

Although I had told him that I could not say anything, he was still pressing. I should have expected this. Based off what I'm telling him… of course he's curious. I would be too.

If I wanted some emotional support, then it seemed that I would have to show more of my stress instead of hiding my feelings. Otherwise, his focus would not change.

I stopped clenching my muscles, now allowing my body to go limp and for quivering to become visible.

"I don't feel safe, Russia," I murmured. "But everyone needs me to do something I don't think I can do anymore. They lied about how hard it would be, and now… It's too difficult, especially when I know how much worse it will become."

"And it is the same thing that was bothering you at my home?"

"Yes, and it's worse now… I was sad then, but now… I'm afraid."

Russia hummed. "America is afraid… and I am not getting good feeling. When you are afraid of something, I feel worry."

"Well… It won't affect you… as long as you stay away."

"But something hurt Britain there?" Russia blinked quickly. "Did you make something dangerous? A weapon?"

"N-not really… not like that," I replied, hoping that Russia wasn't about to feel threatened. "Nothing to be used on people. But it's dangerous anyway."

"You tell me a riddle. What are you describing?"

"That's not the point!" I burst out, then covering my face when I realized how loud and unfiltered that had been. It was awfully American and unlike myself.

The effect caused was desirable. Russia was surprised again, peering at me and asking softly now, "America? What is the point?"

"I need help…" I whispered. "Britain and France are hiding something from me, but they are also the only ones who know what to do. I don't have anyone else… someone to talk to that has no idea about what is going on."

When my posture dropped and my eyes glistened, Russia was even more gentle-voiced.

"But you are very strong, America… What can I do, if you cannot handle it?"

"I'm… not as strong as you think. I can't do everything by myself."

Russia said, "Okay, I understand. Then, if you do not feel safe there, and if something hurts you physically and in the mind… America, do you want to come over again? Do you need break?"

The idea was so attractive. My heart yearned to agree, to say yes and be carried away from here. There were no dangers or secrets there- only fun activities, good food, and perhaps some hugs.

"But I can't," I moaned quietly. "I really do have to stay. I can't go… I can't…"

"But then, what do you want from me?" Russia asked. "Should I come to your place?"

"No!" I rubbed at the tears sneaking out from my eyes. "No…"

"But you want me to see you, da?"

I did not want to answer that question.

In my silence, he continued, "This is why you wanted to talk to me, I think. You are wanting to see me." He paused, tapping his fingertips together. "America… Do you miss me?"

"Y-yes… I do."

"So the nice things I did to you was good? I wanted to try being kind to you, because you were trying… I was not sure if I was making mistakes though."

"Same. I know I pissed you off plenty of times, and when at was at your place, but… you made me feel better. Better than other people could."

A small smile lifted on Russia's face. "No one tells me this. I think it means that we are really friends."

I tried to smile back at him, but it shook from the lingering storm of fear and sorrow within me.

"Russia, hey. We are friends."

Russia swayed in satisfaction. His eyes shone in the light when he lifted his chin up and looked fit to purr.

"I am very happy," he sighed in Russian, with words that I was able to understand.

"I like being your friend," I murmured to him. "We have lots of fun. When we don't have to be serious anymore… It is really nice."

Russia nodded. "It is… but the past is still difficult… do you think so too?

"Mm… It's not like I forgot but, I can't drag on about it forever."

"America?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to see you. Come over. You don't want to be there, and it hurts you to be there. There is Britain there, and France too, right? They know more about the problem, so why don't you make them take care of the problem?"

"The thing is that they are, well, Britain is… and Britain has to go places."

"Can France do it?" Russia asked.

"I-I don't want to leave him alone…"

"But, America, he knows more than you, yes? He can do it."

"No, I… I have work to do anyway. I'm so busy that… I can't go even if I want to."

That had not been a lie.

Russia exhaled, "So you want to see me… but you are too busy to come no matter what. Then, I have to come see you."

"No, Russia. Not yet… Maybe in a month."

"Why in a month?"

I replied, "Because the problem should be taken care of by then, and then you can see me."

"You will be sad all that time." Russia frowned. "Afraid, and in danger. I do not like it… I want to help you, and you want it too because you called me…"

"I just wanted to talk…"

"I don't believe that. I think you wanted more, no matter what you are saying." Russia watched me, his violet eyes serious. "You want me to help you and to come over."

My heart was beating faster. I needed to reject this or else Britain would freak out on me. But Russia was pressing and pressing, looking at me with such concern. He was afraid too, of that nameless thing that I was afraid of. He needed me to be better for his own sake at least. But all of our talking about friendship was making my muscles itch. I wanted the flatness of that screen to become his warm and solid form beside me.

"C-can you… really do that?" I stammered.

"Now, everyone is encouraging me to get closer to you. They like the lowered aggression and would like us to be very good friends. If I want to go, they will let me. Right away."

"Wow…" I breathed.

"Take break, America. I will come."

"O-okay," I conceded.

"Yes? I will come over?"

"Yes… please."

Russia chirped, "Oh, this is great! We will have so much fun, America."

"Guess I'll see you soon."

"Oh yes, very soon. I will get special plane to come quicker. They will hear that you miss me."

"You're gonna tell them that?"

"No, I will let them hear for themselves."

"Er, come again?"

"Mm, I recorded this call."

I froze as a different and new fear overcame me. I stuttered, "W-what? The whole c-call?"

"Mm-hmm." He tilted his head and smiled. "They want proof that you care about me, and now I have it!"

I felt heat flooding through my body. I could not stop myself from shaking, and I whispered hoarsely, "B-but the parts where I told you about my problem, about Britain…"

Russia blinked. He smiled. "What is wrong?"

"You can't give them that! Please, don't, please… no one can know. They'll send spies, they'll look…"

Russia dropped his smile, his gaze flickering over my panic. "It is really important to not tell anyone that you have a problem? That you are afraid?"

"Yes, yes…" My eyes were watering again, and my voice was tightened by the obvious tension owned by those about to cry. "Oh god, please… No one can know. I thought you cared about me…"

"You trusted me so much?" Russia looked on in interest. "Why? Why did you want to tell me something if it was so important?"

I shook and my throat hurt too much to speak. Russia's face softened again. "I like that you trusted me… even when there is risk. I show and tell them many things, but not everything. They do not know about your nightmares or that there is something troubling you. When you play nice, I will reward you. I will cut out the things you said today."

I let out a shaking breath. "Oh my god, thank you…"

"But." He looked at me with a sharp-eyed glare that froze my bones. "I still have them, if you betray me."

My relief was curtailed. I wanted all proof deleted, but the power was in his hands. That look and attitude was not comforting in the slightest, and now I felt as though this was another person I was addressing. A feeling of helplessness overcame me, bringing me fear.

"No, I-I wouldn't… We're friends, right?"

My body was stiff on the outside, but on the inside, everything was trembling. Just when I had thought that Russia could provide me the comfort that the others could not, he had touched me with cold hands. I remembered the similar threat at the meeting in Spain, where Russia had told me that he would hurt me if I was tricking him. I had forgotten about that, and now I realized that I had not been considering this friendship with Russia hard enough.

I had put both America and me in danger. America would have to keep acting like he was friends with Russia once he was back, lest he trigger those threats. If I made Russia feel betrayed now as well, there would be trouble for the entire country.

Russia's gelid expression dropped. He smiled, "Yes. We are friends, and we will always be friends. You would never betray me, yes, America?"

"Right…"

"So then, I will be packing." Russia suddenly lifted a cellphone up from under the table. "A plane has already been arranged."

Alarmed, I fake-coughed. "Erm, you don't really have to come… I shouldn't have bothered you with all this."

"Oh no, I will come!" He flashed another cheery smile at me. "There is a reason you called me. You wanted me to come over to make you feel better. Talking- you did not want to talk. It is settled. I will see you soon!"

He closed his eyes, as though at peace, and placed his hands back into his lap. Russia swayed a little from side-to-side, so content in the current situation. My heart hammered so powerfully that it became harder to hear myself speak.

"R-Russia, dude, wait…"

"Bye, America!" he interrupted.

I fell quiet. I replied, "Bye, Russia…"

The call ended. After turning off the computer, I collapsed over it, sniffling.

Everything had been a mistake. Why did I run away? I wondered. I could have stayed with Britain and France, but now I've gone and done something that they're going to be furious about… I'm so dumb. Russia's coming over, and all he has to do is open a door to discover everything. Then… then everything is over. Russia will hate us, hurt us… and then the whole world will find out.

I could not imagine how I could possibly tell Britain what I had just done. Russia had been right in saying that I had wanted more than to just talk. But I had not realized it myself; therefore, I had been unable to prevent this mistake.

"I'm so stupid," I whimpered. "Oh, what did I do…"

I shuddered with the sniffles until tears were shaken free. Once the breaking point had been reached, I was crying openly. Quiet though I was, there was still no one around to disturb. But that meant that there was no one to comfort me either. I quaked over crossed arms until my leaking nose needed tending to.

Blurry-eyed, I packed up my things and hurried to the washroom. With rough toilet paper, I blew my nose before crashing before the mirror. There in the glass, I could see America crying in the reflection.

But Russia had treated me well, when he saw this face sad. Would he be merciful, if he saw me crying?

I washed my face with warm water and hand soap. Unconcerned about the public's eyes, I returned to the ground level of the library and walked out. I did not want to go back yet, however. France and Britain had been warned about my departure, and especially after the chat with Russia, I felt no desire to return home.

I drove. Where was not important when I focused on the landscapes that changed around me. I deposited myself in one small town, parking only this once to break off sprinting. I tore around the location before I returned to my car, sweating and lungs pained from the cold air which had entered them.

All of the discomforts distracted me. I bought no water, instead making the long way back with a sticky throat. By the time I was back to America's place, the sun was far over the horizon and stars were pricking the sky. I exited the car to meet a door which had instantly opened for me.

They had heard me coming in with the car, and now Britain was dragging me in with his good arm.

"I'm sorry," he choked, hugging me and burying his face into my chest. "Please don't run away like that again."

France took his place, telling me, "We're sorry for everything we've done… and for all the secrets we've kept… We talked while you were gone… and we decided that instead of talking about the past, we will tell you the truth about the present and future."

"O-oh?" I blinked.

Britain looked me up and down, over my messy hair and clothes. "Where have you been?"

"Maybe you should take a shower and get dressed," France advised. "Relax a bit. And if you're hungry, which you must be, then I have something in your fridge for you."

I turned away when my lip started to tremble.

They are still so good to me… Why did I forget that?

"Thank you…" I whispered with difficulty.

I hung up America's jacket, then I tried to relax as they had told me to. I removed myself of everything American, fitting myself into my own clothes and glasses, then I finally drank and ate. All was done quickly however, in my impatience to burrow into the warmth that others provided. I met with Kumajiro after having had brushed my teeth, carrying him to the couch and setting him on the soft carpet by my feet. I pressed my legs into either side of him while Britain and France sat beside me.

"So you want to know what the worse is," Britain sighed. "The things I never wanted to tell you in the beginning."

I closed my eyes. "Yes… Please, tell me. I am going to know about it anyway."

"Very well," Britain breathed, laying his hand over his wrapped arm and wincing. "So be it… As you know, we cut America's muscles recently so that he could not use his strength. Of course, he will heal. Again and again. You must have already assumed that you would have to check on him constantly, to freshen the cuts."

I nodded.

France took over. "The thing is, Canada, that if America gets too good at healing himself, you might really have to hurt him. The shots you gave him will heal too, but the extra damage is only making him more dangerous."

"But you want me to hurt him more?"

Britain said, "You have to incapacitate him so that it is impossible for him to hurt anyone."

My breathing halted.

France murmured, "You might have to… No, we will do it for you. If it gets too dangerous, we will chop off his limbs and jaw. The main part is the only part that will be able to move. So we can tie up the middle and discard the rest."

"And it won't make a difference," Britain concluded. "It will regrow in the end."

"We can do it now," France said. "If it is too hard for you, we will do it. You've already done so much."

"We cut out his vocal cords while you were gone," Britain continued. "Because it is the only way to make him quiet now. We have to do these awful things, but we have to do them for the greater good. America would hate himself if he knew that he had hurt any of us. He would want us to do this too."

France reached out to me. "Canada?"

He starting shaking me. The faces of both France and Britain zoomed in and filled my line of sight.

Britain gasped, "Canada? Are you alright?"

France shook me a little harder. "Canada? C-Canada?"

"Oh no," Britain inhaled. "Canada? Say something."

"Canada?"

"Canada, no... Canada…"

I fell sideways, gravity collapsing my limp body into France. The last thing I remembered was hands holding my face, and fingers desperately finding themselves in my hair.

It was late. I saw the alarm clock in my bed showing a time after one in the morning. Rolling over however, I noticed that I was not alone. France was lying beside me, turned away and asleep. Kumajiro was on the side where I usually lay, and for once I was in the middle.

I crept out of the bed and walked to the bathroom. Afterwards though, I snuck through my home on the search for Britain. He was found asleep on the couch with a cover and two pillows to himself, one of those pillows cuddled by his arm. I slunk back down the hall, but crashed into a shadow.

I squeaked, but France hushed me.

"I heard you get up," he murmured. "Are you alright now? Are you thirsty?"

"I was… just looking for Britain."

"There was only room for one of us in your bed." France looked down, his eyes dark but deep in the darkness. "He thought that it was better if I was with you… because you might be more angry with him, after everything…"

I went silent and shivered in the cold. France led me back to the bed, where he crawled back under the blankets still warm from our old heat.

"There is a cup here," he murmured, passing me water from the nightstand.

I drank slowly.

"You fainted when we told you. We are so sorry. Canada. So we will do it, if it comes down to it. We will make him completely harmless and secure, then you'll never have to look at him."

France set the water to the side. He pet the side of my face as I lay my head back down, discovering some tears, and brushing them away.

"Don't cry anymore, Canada," he sighed. "It hurts others to see your tears."

I shifted into his arms. "Sorry…"

He held me closer.

"You are special, Canada. Many people see others crying and feel nothing at all. For you, only those that love and care about you can see your tears. And they love you so much that they feel the same sadness as you do."

His hand ceased rubbing my upper back, his fingers now curling into a relaxed fist. France fixed our pillows, then whispered, "Sleep, Canada. Soon, you will be happy again."

I gently told him goodnight, but I was afraid to sleep again. Not because of the nightmares, but because I knew that later this day, Russia would arrive. This comfort would be short-lived, once they discovered the mistake I had made.

But France managed it somehow, that task of easing me to sleep. Truly, it was strange without the Russian music playing, but perhaps tonight I was better without it. I needed to forget about Russia until the time came to deal with what I had done.

On that night, the nightmares returned. But the house among the corn appeared to protect me again, offering refuge from the zombies that pursued me. Skeletal, black-rotted zombies with gaping mouths and reaching fingers, who all could run so fast.

Britain and France treated me so kindly and carefully that my day was filled by overwhelming guilt. I was rendered mum at every question they posed, and every action I took was languid, It grew on their suspicion, but only in the way that they worried terribly about me. They blamed themselves for last night, but I assured them over and over again that it was safer for me to know the situation.

Nevertheless, we made no choice about America. They were too nervous to ask my opinion about America's dismemberment again so soon after I had fainted from the thought of it.

When the doorbell rang on America's side though, a sound so overly cheery in this gloomy building, my stress heightened. The whiteness and wideness of my eyes gave it away, and finally, they understood.

"Who is that?" Britain demanded.

My throat twisted into a knot and I said nothing. I sprang from the couch and dashed to America's side, crying out that I was coming, before I hurried on my disguise. Then, I approached the door on wobbling legs while France and Britain scrambled up to me.

They froze when I unlocked and opened the door. We then all saw on the steps, bold against the background of the setting sun, Russia standing and smiling at me.

"America, I am here," he purred.

He released his grip on his suitcase and kissed my cheeks, once, twice- then stopped himself and pulled back, startled by his own actions. I had not reacted out in anger however, but was looking back at him in the same worry that I had worn all day.

Russia looked as though he had wanted to apologize, but then went quiet at the sight of Britain and France gawking at him. Russia's eyes dropped to Britain's injured arm, then he looked to me.

"So it was true," he said, although I went stiff as he confirmed that I had given him information. "Britain got hurt by the thing that worries you… and here is France. Why though, do Britain and France know so much about this thing?"

"You invited him?" Britain cried. "America, what were you thinking? How could you!"

"I-I didn't mean-"

"What does he know?" France gasped.

Russia replied, "Oh, I know that America is sad, scared, and not feeling safe. Something in his life is frightening him, and it hurt Britain. I wanted to know what kind of weapon it was, but America would not tell me."

I protested, "I'm telling you, there isn't any weapon!"

"Be quiet!" Britain snapped. "America, I can't believe you told him anything! I trusted you to keep this completely secret, and now you've gone and informed the enemy!"

"Enemy?" I gasped. "No, he's not-"

France exclaimed, "America, you know what will happen!"

Britain shouted, "Did you honestly think that a nation like him wouldn't take advantage of weakness? If you've told him all that, it just proves that he's only your friend to get close to you! To find out your secret and end you!"

End America, was what I knew he really meant. But I did not want to believe it now, when they bristled against me and when Russia was now moving out in front of me.

"If I wanted to do something bad to America, then it would already be done," he said. "But because he has been nice, I want to be nice to him too."

"This is what you went out for yesterday?" Britain burst out as he threw out his arm. "You didn't want us to know what you were doing, so you went off blathering to him?"

My mouth closed behind Russia as he cut in and replied for me.

"Why are you yelling at America? It is hard for him to not be sad, if he is so stressed to be alone and quiet."

"Alone?" Britain cried. "He had us!"

Russia hummed. "But you lied to him. He wanted someone who wouldn't lie to him."

"You?" Britain shouted at Russia, but looked and directed his anger to me. "You are the most untrustworthy, backward-"

"Stop!" I hollered. "Please, you're making it worse…"

"America," France moaned. "You've done the worse possible thing. It was bad when there were three of us, but now there are four… and him. Russia will surely be recognized!"

What do they mean? Oh, wait...

"I do not understand," Russia muttered. "I think you should tell me what is happening. I have seen poor America suffering for so long, and I do not know why. I do not know what to do for him."

"Do for him?" Britain objected. "You couldn't do anything good for him, or anything that we haven't already done for him! You being here will just make things more difficult for him!"

Britain and France stared at me. I scrunched up, more so when Russia loomed over me.

"America," Russia mumbled. "That is not true, right? You want me here. You have to tell them that."

"Send him off!" Britain cried. "You can't bring him any deeper into this!"

But, he'll just become more curious. He would come back on his own, as a spy, and angry.

I looked down and held my arm. My tongue lay heavily in my mouth, unable to move and form any response. I felt my heart though, shivering so fast inside the petrified body.

Russia murmured, "Oh, America is frozen. I think all the yelling did that."

"It wasn't our fault," France said. "He is frightened by what he has done, and frightened by you."

"Me?" Russia smiled. "No, America is never afraid of me. He is only angry and cocky. He is not scared of me."

Russia lay a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Da, America? Friends are not like that."

But I was frightened, and of many things. I wanted to express myself, but I was not physically capable or willing to say everything that I wanted to. I considered dashing off and locking everyone out, but that was only a temporary solution. These three would only argue anyway.

I reached back and dragged in Russia's luggage. The action was worth the same as my words. Britain and France jolted, eyes widening, while Russia merely smiled. The hand upon me promptly became softer, running once down my back.

"You're making a mistake," Britain warned me. "You won't be able to handle the guilt, if everything is ruined because of your decision to let him in."

I whipped my head up. "Why are you always deciding what I can handle?"

"Because we know what hurts you," France answered quietly. "And what is not necessary for you to know."

"You made us say things that hurt you," Britain supported him. "And that was too much for you."

"It was not too much! I needed to know. It doesn't matter how I react-"

Britain waved me off. "That is not the point. We know what hurts you, but Russia does not. He will only bring you more pain."

"I do not like what you say about me," Russia uttered. "You just do not want me to be America's friend."

I felt so torn. There were parts that I liked about each person, but also parts that I could not live with. At this moment, no one here was perfect for me.

"Tell me everything," I whispered. "Just do it already. Tell me the whole story."

"We told you the worse of it already," France replied.

"No." I shook my head. "The way you talk… There is more. And it involves me somehow."

"Involves you?" Britain gasped. "Where did you get such an absurd idea-"

Russia said, "I think America will be happier if he knows everything."

"Stay out of this." Britain raised a glare at Russia.

France exhaled. He told me, "How can we tell you, now that Russia is here? We cannot leave him alone, and if he is near us, he will hear us."

Russia stepped up to say something. Then, however, not far down the hall, there was a sound.

A faint knock was heard rapping upon wood.

Russia did not notice it, but the rest of us had gone silent. Eyes opened but dared not look toward the direction of the basement, lest we reveal the location of our terror. Russia saw our faces and changed the answer he had formulated in his mind, asking instead, "Why are you not trusting me, thinking that I will hurt him? I like the peace he is bringing. I never took advantage of his weakness. I was nice and I comforted him. Tell them, America. When you visited me, I did nothing to you."

"Er yeah…" I swallowed, taking Russia's suitcase and starting to move toward the Canadian side. "Russia was good. Say, Russia, do you want to check out Canada's home? He's away on a trip but…"

I was sweating so much. There was an obvious tremble in my voice, especially because the sound of nails scraping across wood had been audible as I had been speaking. Russia could not have known what the true source of that sound was, but he had noted my behaviour. I gasped when he held my forearm and stopped me.

"What is wrong?" Russia gazed at me in confusion, a look of disappointment painted on his face. "Did I do something…?"

Britain and France were fidgeting, clenching their teeth and making pushing motions. Russia had to get out of this area.

"No, not you…" I tried to assure him in my floundering tone.

Russia watched a drop of sweat running down the side of my face.

"You are scared," he whispered. "Like after one of your nightmares. Is the problem close to us?"

I shook and looked to the others with helplessness slapped upon my expression. There was nothing that I could say that Russia would believe. He had already obtained his answer.

The three of us made the mistake of silence as we tried to figure out what to do. Russia too, went quiet. That was how he heard the next weak tap upon the distant door.

Knock.

It was a quiet sound, but it cracked the air of the home like snapping ice. Russia let out a breath and looked among us.

"This thing?" he smiled. "This is what hurt Britain and is scaring you?"

Knock… knock…