It was getting late by the time that we had finished all discussion. France made a meal for everyone, then I was placed in the middle of a movie-watching therapy session. I sat on my couch with Russia and France at sides while Britain was in an armchair, although the entire time, it disheartened me to see him separated from us.

I can't be mad at him for not telling me everything. Poor Britain is working so hard and going through a lot too. I can't hurt him by being mad at him.

I wasn't really into the movie. In fact, I started feeling like I was growing sick of the concept in particular. It was my fallback activity during this whole experience for whenever I was with others. Movies were incredibly long, longer than I had ever remembered them to be, and my anxious mind was too aware of each second. Bored, and exhausted from the periods of potent crying, my head dropped and my eyes closed.

When France had noticed me falling asleep, everyone decided that it was best for me to go to bed. Then came the realization that there would have to be a separation among us. But there was no argument. We decided to open both doors and carry in one of America's couches, laying it down across from mine. As for the right to be with me, it was conceded to Russia, who had proven himself adequate.

Upon padding into my room, Russia saw Kumajiro on the bed. He fell onto the mattress, smiling and petting him immediately. Kumajiro leaned back, unsure, but Russia was already cooing to him.

"Oh, you look very sad. Come here!"

I dipped my head and gave Kumajiro a soft look of approval. He relaxed just as Russia dug his arms under him and lifted him up. Russia sat on the edge of the bed and snuggled Kumajiro; I saw the shock on his furry expression, but he ceased struggling when Russia cradled him and kissed behind his ear. He gave in to the Russia stroked his cheek and tickled under his chin.

Russia turned to me and asked, "Why is he here?"

"He always lives with me. He stays because Britain thought that it would be better to have someone else around, in case America came after me while I was sleeping."

"The bear does not want to be here." Russia buried his face into his fur. "It is difficult to explain what is happening to him."

"Well," I said, "he understands what we say, so he knows. I told him already…"

"Then it is worse." He hugged him. "Do you have someone you know would take care of him?"

"Yeah, I do…"

"Bear does not need to stay here to protect you. I can stay here until America is cured."

My eyes widened. "C-can you really stay that long?"

"I can," he replied. "I will try hard and I will do some convincing. It makes me happier to be here than at home."

"Would you really stay?"

Russia kissed Kumajiro again. "I want to. And now, I will be more happy to because this bear can go have more fun somewhere else."

"You're right," I sighed. "He's really so unlike himself… He's so gotten so quiet since things started getting serious, so now he usually just stays in my room. He would feel a lot better if I sent him away. He could play all he wanted to…"

"Then we can do this tomorrow," he confirmed, laying Kumajiro back down into the middle of the bed and smoothing out his fur.

I liked how he had said we. I knew where to go, but Russia had wanted to go with me. I smiled as I finally peeled back the blankets and slid into the bed.

I whispered, "Yes, we will."

Russia smiled back and slipped into the bed up to Kumajiro. He pet him until I regarded his throat, wondering again why he had his scarf on. As America, I had asked about why he slept with it on, but he had told me that he would not take it off. Now though, as Canada, I thought that maybe I could get a better reason.

"R-Russia… why do you feel like you have to wear your scarf to bed?"

"I wear it because you are here," Russia said. "But, you are Canada. I guess it is okay to take it off... You will be kind to me, da?"

Russia unwound his long scarf and folded it up. My eyes fell to his neck, and already from the front, I could see a cloth bandage covering it. Russia took this off too, revealing his normal skin, which was marked at the sides with scar tissue.

Russia put away the cloth, explaining in a low breath, "It is in case my scarf is pulled off…"

He turned just a tad to the side as he put the items away, allowing me better view of the ring scar on the back of his neck. I stared, then noticed that he was watching where my eyes were. I looked away, my cheeks burning red as I apologized.

"Sorry…" I whispered. "But… why do you cover them? I don't see anything embarrassing about them…"

Russia relaxed, softening his gaze and elaborating, "I don't want anyone thinking that I have a weak spot to attack. Also, I really love my scarf. I do not wear it at night, but I did because you were America. I was not ready to show him yet. But you will not hurt me, so it is okay if you see."

Russia properly settled in and lay his head down onto the pillow. He closed his eyes and murmured his goodnight, so I did the same before reaching out and turning off the light. I lay onto my back and began to think about the day, but it was harder to think about the horrific memories after hearing what Russia had just said. He would stay with me for a month, and he trusted me so much. Soon, his flower would come and possibly aid us, and if not, Britain was still going to grab two more ingredients.

Like this, I managed to fall asleep, but I knew that the nightmares were sure to come. I was shaken awake once, sobbing and sweating from a dream that I could not remember. I wandered away to change my soaked clothes, then I lay on a sheet over the moist spot that I had created.

Russia had fallen asleep again so soon after waking me. Unable to sleep, I could only listen to his gentle and slow breaths. I rolled over from one side to another, but could not find a way to return to sleep. I was a little afraid to. The tears and sweat had dried, but my heart had not stopped shaking. There was an awful weight in my stomach as I remembered the feeling the dream had given me, even if I couldn't remember the specifics.

I turned over and watched Russia's covered ribs rising and falling, then glanced at the darker spots on his neck, only to look away in guilt. Staring when he was not conscious was not polite either. Russia stirred on his own, and I rolled over so that he wouldn't notice that I had been watching him.

My movement was detected by him though, thus he woke and yawned, "You are awake, Canada?"

"I can't sleep," I sighed. "I don't feel tired at all."

"I understand. It is hard after all the things that happened yesterday. Many things happened quickly, yes? But if you cannot sleep, maybe you do not have to. Maybe you need more time."

"I should sleep now though…" I turned back towards him, gazing across the bed and into his eyes. "It would be better for me."

"You can sleep when you are exhausted. Do you want to do something else instead? We can play a game if you want."

"Oh no… you're trying to sleep and all."

"No." Russia sat up. "Let's do something fun. We can stay up for the night!"

He had decided, so I felt better about depriving him of sleep. I trailed Russia out of the room, but he paused in the hall and waited for me to take the lead.

"Oh, uh, we can play a video game," I suggested. "But, Britain and France are sleeping in my living room… I guess not."

"It sounds like a good idea. America must have everything, right? We can use his."

"Alright but, that's in his living room… Are you okay with that?"

"They cut him again. He will not be able to move."

We snuck down the hall, tiptoeing past where France and Britain slept, creeping through the door, and making it onto America's side without waking them. We both understood without saying it, that they would have disapproved if they had known.

I started up America's newest version of Xbox and checked the volume. Loud enough for us to hear, but not loud enough to be heard from my home, I selected a game that was not too violent or boring. Russia moved the coffee table, then we both sat on the floor.

"Do you know how to play this?" I asked.

Russia smiled, "Yes, this one I have played before."

"Okay, we'll start a new world then."

Russia was signed in as a guest after being given his own controller. We both crossed our legs, getting comfortable before diving into the game. In the beginning, my ears strained themselves in nervous apprehension, listening for any scratching or knocking on the basement door. Beside me, Russia seemed somewhat tense as well, likely remembering how he had been described as America's target.

The feeling faded after we had begun laughing. We were both not the most skilled of players, so both of us were prone to panic and death. We explored the maps and had one adventure after the other, never becoming bored. Russia did not seem to be tired at all, and I didn't feel tired either. I was glad to be staying up with Russia; it felt like a slumber party, where it was just us and no other worries.

Russia sighed, "It is very fun playing this game with you, Canada. I want to do more of this with you in the future."

"We have to now," I smiled back. "I've never really finished this game, and I would love to beat it with you. Maybe, if we don't finish it when you're here, or if you want to play again… America will let me use his Xbox again and use Xbox live. You have one, right?"

"Yes, I have this. This sounds very good."

We had not ceased concentrating on the screen. Time flew by without realization, and the darkness outside grew brighter and small birds began to chirp. This side of the house had remained in a state of calm for the entirety of our play session. When we packed it up and wandered back to my side, it was equally quiet.

France and Britain both stirred however, gazing at us in surprise as we entered from America's side. Britain shot up and demanded, "What were you doing over there?"

"Oh…" I rubbed at my aching eyes. "We stayed up playing Minecraft…"

"He could not sleep," Russia explained. "But I think we can sleep soon. First, we will take your bear to a safer place, yes, Canada? After breakfast."

"Yeah." Then I told them, "Russia's going to stay here until America is cured. So we thought it would be okay to…"

"It's no trouble," Britain said. "As long as you aren't alone."

With his approval, I felt at ease about our sneaking. After we had eaten, I drove out with Russia to drop off Kumajiro. He understood that he was going away, so in being in the car, he was already in better spirits. He hopped around the backseat and looked out the windows in excitement about where he was going.

I was not the only one to hug him goodbye. Russia held him after I had, then we left Kumajiro in his new and peaceful haven. When we were alone again in the car, the attention shifted back to me. Russia asked, "Are you tired, Canada?"

I could feel the depth of the rings under my eyes and the weakness of my limbs. I admitted my fatigue, and Russia revealed that he was also affected by jet lag. Once we came home, it was decided that we would nap in order to both recover.

"I think it will be harder to have the nightmares now, right?" Russia hummed. "You are very tired, and more time has passed."

"Yeah, and usually I feel safer during the day."

I let Russia change in my room while I changed in the bathroom. France caught me before I could enter my bedroom, telling me, "We wanted to collect the ingredients by that house but… if you want to go with Britain instead, he will wait."

I wondered if I would feel more closure from seeing the place where I had been kept. Surely, the isolated house was unaccompanied and dilapidated. Seeing it in ruins could make the memory seem more distant.

"I want to go see it, but I need to sleep a bit…"

"Okay, we just wanted to make sure."

France walked on and left me to turn back to my bedroom door. I pushed through it and shut it, seeing Russia already snuggled in and in sleeping position. I fell into my side and curled up under the blankets. Russia did not say anything this time. Exhausted from the night and morning, we slept directly.

I was fortunate when my sleep was without nightmares. The contents of the room lay in tranquility until many hours had passed, when we were woken up by a knock on the door. Russia and I drew ourselves up and stared at the door. I called out, "What is it?"

France responded, "There's some people here with the flower, but they will only give it to Russia."

"I am coming!" Russia called. He rushed to get proper clothes on, and I turned my back so that he could change. Russia hurried out into the hall, leaving me alone now to change myself.

I could still feel the sensitivity of my eyes, but the excitement from the flower's arrival drove away my fatigue. When ready, I scrambled out to America's side. There, I heard Russia on the porch, communicating in Russian with a pleased tone. I arrived just in time to see a group of utterly serious men, dressed in suits with a few wearing sunglasses. The atmosphere that came with their presences unsettled me, but after Russia had stepped back inside bearing his pot and magnificently coloured sunflower, the feeling within me was forgotten.

Russia set the pot into my hands in front of the men. He rubbed my arm and purred, "My friend, do you like my present?"

Knowing that he was making a point in front of the group, who were sure to report back to someone, I tried to look at Russia with amicable tenderness.

"Yes, thank you." I gazed over the petals of fire in front of my face, not needing to act to appear awed from them.

Russia spoke more to them, then waved and closed the door. Now, Britain dashed into sight and did not contain his rapture. He bolted to me and halted, reaching out and touching the petals. There was a difference from when I had seen the flower before, for now the black middle had sprouted many red-striped seeds. Britain now felt them, then plucked one for himself.

Protecting it in his palm, he proclaimed, "We have to test this immediately!"

Since he did not want to carry the pot with his one good arm, he pulled me along and into the kitchen. I set down the pot onto the counter, then he picked a few seeds and set them onto a cutting board. France helped him deshell them when it proved to be difficult for him, then they crushed the seeds carefully into a crumbly powder.

"This should be good," Britain decided.

They packed the small amount of powder into Britain's palm, then he led us toward the basement. Out of undeniable curiosity, we all followed him to see what would happen. Russia was the last in the line as we headed downstairs into the stale and cold basement. His footsteps seemed to become small and stiff, and when I looked back at him, I saw the tenseness of his muscles and the apprehension etched into his face. He must have been remembering how he had been described as a target. I wanted to hold onto him as I used to for Britain, so that he would feel better, but I didn't since I wasn't sure if he would allow it.

We all peeked out from behind Britain and found the corpse lying at the foot of the stairs. Although the arms and legs were useless, the head craned back and fixed us with hollow eyes and a hanging jaw. From where he was, Britain released the powder over the blasted shirt and torso, getting it into one of the closing holes.

Upon the contact with his flesh, we waited for something grand to happen. Me especially, and likely Russia too, since we had never seen anything like this before. I did not know how long it would take, but after a minute without action, Britain whirled around and began pushing us back up the stairs.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Either I need more for an effect, or it really won't help us here."

From the top of the stairs, Russia stared at America for a few extra seconds. Britain turned off the light and locked the door behind him, cutting the body out of sight. Russia drew away then, but I was sure that he still held the image in his head as he struggled to discern America in that black-muscled skeleton.

"We'll buy some dirt and flower pots," Britain decided. "If we really can produce more plants, then we might as well try finding out what it can do."

"Seeds come only one time in the month," Russia said.

Britain huffed and slapped his palm against his forehead. He groaned, "Then we won't have time to test it on him. But... it really should have worked if there was something that it could do to him. If some seeds were enough to kill a person, then clearly, they are quite potent on their own."

I murmured to him, "Then it doesn't work, Britain. But it's okay… You still know what to do to fix him, so you don't need this."

He gave in. "I know… I'm just disappointed is all… It's a bloody shame this plant that I've never even heard of did nothing for us."

"You can have the plant," Russia told him. "And one day you will find what it does."

Britain nodded, looking more relieved after his reassurance. There was no rush. It was now his everlasting gift from Russia.

"It is beautiful though," France added conclusively. "So if you don't want it, you could always give it to me instead..."

Everyone busied themselves with their own affairs for the rest of the day. Russia working here surprised me, but it showed how much he trusted me by using my Wi-Fi. He liked to sit beside me as well, for no other reason than to be there. We did not talk until late however, when I posed a question to him.

"I have to go to Ottawa in a few days. Do you want to come with me?"

Russia readily agreed with a smile. Soon, it was bed for us again, and I got to think about where I would take him. When I realized that I had forgotten to ask France and Britain, it was the first thing I did next morning. They had come out from America's basement again, but declined the offer.

"It's best that we stay here, to make sure that America doesn't get too strong while we're away," France said. "You enjoy your time with Russia."

This day passed again in calm. Britain sometimes seemed exhausted and feverish, but they assured me that his infection was fading away. To be sure that I believed them, I was given a glance at Britain's arm. The bones were supposedly fusing back together already, and the ferocious dark colours had lightened to red.

"He's healthy," France assured me. "He heals quickly."

They asked me if I wanted to go to the old home yet, and since there was no particular reason not to, I agreed.

"It's a little far, so you might have to stay in a hotel," France said, to which Britain nodded to. "So I could stay here and keep an eye on America."

"Should Russia stay with him?" I asked. "Just so France is not alone."

"Yes, let's tell Russia to stay back," Britain agreed. "But, Canada, make sure to tell him to behave himself. Russia might want to hurt America while he's like this."

I doubted that he would even go near him, since he was so nervous around the moving cadaver. Nevertheless, I explained the situation to him, and he complied to my wishes.

"I want to play more of the game when you come back," Russia had told me with a smile, his mood not at all soured. "Then soon we will have our own day in Ottawa."

It did not take long to pack myself into the car with Britain and enough necessities to last us for two days. Led by a GPS coordination, I drove us down the long stretches of road to a location that I was not familiar with. Britain read until his stomach could no longer take it, then it was only the music that occupied us. There was not much to talk about, but it was not as awkward as it had been back when I had driven with him to locate other plants.

Now that I knew and understood everything, anyways.

We stopped now and then for breaks and food, taking Subway and eating in the car in order to arrive before dark. I was beginning to get concerned about the time, since sunset came sooner in autumn, but Britain suddenly pointed at a forest which was revealed in coming over the crest of a hill.

"Park somewhere. I think we're here."

I did as I was told, then he stepped out and squeezed his eyes shut. Britain walked into the forest and inhaled deeply, before glancing back to me and opening his eyes.

"I sense the flowers. Let's get going."

We took our cellphones and clippers. I followed after Britain as he tracked down the source of his feeling, although I still could not sense what he could.

"Everything's changed," he murmured to me as we began pushing our way through the underbrush. "But I can find it."

"And the way back?"

"No, so let's try to remember the way. If all else fails, we can call for help."

As we wandered in further, I tried memorizing all the oddly shaped trees. Growing more worried that we would not find our way back, I started jabbing branches upright into the ground or I lay down stones or mushrooms, just to be more sure. Britain started helping me, approving of my idea without a word.

I was still highly paranoid though, afraid of getting lost in the forest at night and forced to stay in the house. The place began to become a symbol of horror to me, and as Britain assured me that we were almost there, I grew more anxious. Some irrational thoughts came back to me, and I imagined old blood stains that still marked the house, or other remnants of my rot.

"H-hey," I began. "After you ch-chopped me up… What happened to my limbs? I-I grew new ones, didn't I?"

"Yes… Those limbs…"

"Are they still there?"

"No. They disappeared… Nothing remained soon after you were healed."

I shivered. "N-nothing?"

"Physically, nothing. The only thing that remains are the memories, but we have plenty of those. They should not and cannot be allowed to mark us forever. That's why you're here." Britain tilted his head up to the path that we would soon create. "We're almost there."

I thought about what Russia had told me, about how I could desensitize myself to my memories so that the pain would fade. I recalled my age, understanding that Russia and Britain had lived so much longer than me and thus had experienced many other horrible memories.

But we cannot let something haunt us forever, because we live so long and that would be awful. Russia and Britain both understand what it takes to continue on.

I expected to see the corn appear suddenly through the trees. When no corn came, I realized how foolish that thought had been. This place had been forsaken by the world, and now the field was not but shaggy heather and young trees. Beyond it, the house was obvious in its rotted and sunken form, so easily spotted now that I was taller and the stalks in my dreams had been swept away by time.

"That's it…" Britain sighed.

We walked closer to the carcass of the house, my steps becoming shorter and shorter still. The image of my dreams grew hazier in the face of reality, when I saw how the welcoming home was no longer and would never be a home again. Its brightness in my memory darkened now, leaving this ominous building that did not show me an opened door, but a gaping mouth into the blackness within.

I stopped. Britain halted after a step and turned to me. He touched me with one hand, whispering, "What is it?"

"I don't know… I'm just afraid."

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

He led me up to the house, but I paused again, too frightened to enter. Britain turned on the flashlight on his phone, stepping in first and demonstrating that it was safe. I rushed in to his side, pressing in close as he turned in a circle and showed me the interior. There was absolutely nothing here that I recognized. All of the furniture was gone and the walls were moss-covered and water-damaged. The floor was covered with dirt and green growth in some places, then feces and feathers in other ones.

We walked deeper into the silent and chilled house. Goosebumps rose on my arms and I held Britain by his uninjured arm. I clung and pressed close, hindering our progress and keeping our movements slow, but felt better for his presence. We peeked into each rotted room before Britain took me closer to the entrance to reveal the stairs that had been concealed by the thick shadows.

"There was an upper level, but there was only one large room up there. The attic. That was where you were kept, but, I don't think we should try going up. I can tell just by looking at these stairs that they'll break if we do try."

I squeezed my middle with my other arm, trying to preserve the warmth left within me.

"I… don't remember what it looked like."

Britain sighed, "We locked it up so that you wouldn't play there. Due to our sensitivity… and because we never able to completely get rid of the stains in the wood…"

I shook. The light barely reached the top of the sagging staircase and revealed the dark, rotten door that was there. The door that was still closed.

I twitched and stepped back. "I -I want to leave now…"

Sensing my fear, Britain hushed me, "The stains will be gone now. Too much time has passed."

I nodded slowly. Britain started to escort me out regardless, now that we had seen everything that we could. The room still lingered in my mind however, the closed door overtaking my senses with ghostly tendrils seeping out from under the crack. It was full of secrets: a chilling darkness that had been hidden from the world. That room had been the original container of the most inexplicable, horrifying being to exist, as far as I was aware.

But it had seen so much. And as long as the room remained closed off, it felt as though there was still a corpse within… a small skeleton that waited alone with cobwebs in its eyes, waiting to be greeted. Waiting for a reason to move.

Britain hollered when I snatched his phone and raced back inside.

"Canada!"

I hurried up the stairs that dipped and groaned under my feet. I flew up to the door with wide eyes, halting, inhaling, and slamming my foot into the wood. My foot broke a hole through it. I struck again and again, gasping and imagining now that within the room, there was a skeleton rising to its feet. I hit the door higher, punching out the wood until a large opening had been made. In my mind, I could hear the bony feet shuffling through the dark, past the sounds produced from my blows to the door.

I imagined the footsteps so near me, and white arms rising and hanging so brightly against the dark. I burst through the opening I had made into the attic, leaping blindly into the realm of the monster. I spun in a circle and illuminated the room with the light, but no one was revealed.

There was a hole in the ceiling that filtered in some natural light and the faint breeze. The floor shone from what light struck it, and the chirps of some small birds penetrating the decayed prison. Everything was dark in its rot, but most was covered by seasons of leaves that had blown into the room. Here too, sprouts had begun to grow, overwhelming the rusted chains and the strings left of the old rope with life.

The true darkness had been dispersed in taking down the door. The secrets were no longer things locked away, but now open to the world to judge and forget. Now, all that was left was life, which overtook the past and carried away its sorrow and fear.

I returned downstairs carefully. Britain had been worried sick, but he relaxed when I was back within arm's reach.

"You were right," I sighed to him. "The stains are gone."

"I suppose this was the only way to feel better."

"Y-yeah…" I stammered, feeling awkward after my rash actions. I went outside with him now, but asked, "Just… could you show me the coffin too? I want to see it empty…"

"There is no coffin anymore. We destroyed it… There would be no coffin for you. We did not want to live with one existing." Britain walked me to the side of the house and pointed to the ground. "It was around here though, where we buried you."

I stared until I was satisfied. All fear of this place had left me, and now I could see this place differently. This house was no longer damned by its dark past; now, it was but a part of the forest and as neutral as the trees were.

"I remember being healed and walking around in there," I carried on. "How long did we stay?"

"We only lived here for a little while after you were cured, to clean up and take away our belongings, and to also make sure that you were truly healed."

"Okay…"

"Is there anything else you need to see?"

"No," I answered and exhaled with slow care. "I feel better now."

"Wonderful. Now let's find those plants and head back before it gets too dark."

We stayed in a hotel overnight and came back to a calm house. I had feared a bit that something would have happened to them, primarily Russia since America had wanted to attack him. All that arrived at the door were Russia's arms scooping me into a hug, and his voice that asked if I was alright after my experience. France reported only that he had sliced America's tendons again, otherwise, they had been safe.

Russia was eager to play videogames with me again, and I gladly did so. Out of curiosity, France and Britain watched us for a short while, but then left to take care of Britain's remaining infection. Our fingers clacked on buttons and our voices rose higher with our enthusiasm. Here, it was easy to forget the chilling touch of my memories when I was with Russia, whose playfulness and gentleness continued to surprise me.

I could forget to mind the danger in the basement, or at least, until we heard nails scraping on the basement door. We snapped our head in the direction of the door, still hearing the slow knocks and scratches emanating from behind it.

"Britain!" I called. "F-France!"

They rushed back in. I had turned off the game and was now stepping back with Russia. Rather, he was stepping back with me, trying to lead me away from the creature that put him ill at ease. France and Britain were grabbing knives and taking control of the situation, but I did not want to leave them completely. I was afraid to leave them alone, if America had recovered this much so fast.

When I moved forward, Russia came with me. We snuck in behind Britain and France at the top of the stairs as they grasped America by his rotten arms and dragged him down into the basement. Britain nudged the light switch on with his shoulder, then all were able to see how America tried to bite them, turning his head and weakly bringing his sliced jaw upwards. There was no force in it, and France ignored the teeth that gnawed his arm, unable to pull away any flesh.

Britain looked back at us once, then he and France pulled the body out of sight so that I couldn't see what they did next. I waited though, for any yells for help. Nothing came. They came back up with dark and foul-smelling juices over their arms, and foreign expressions on their faces. The light switch was nudged back off, but it was Russia who swiftly closed and locked the door after their departure.

"Everything's alright," Britain assured us in his smooth voice as he passed by. "You can keep playing. He won't be a problem again for a while now."

My heart settled, but I was no longer in the mood to be on this side. Russia came with me to play a different and new game on my own game system. Feeling safer here, we were able to relax until evening came, discussing occasionally in gentle tones, what we could do in Ottawa tomorrow.

To reconfirm, I asked France and Britain, "So none of you want to come with us?"

"No, no." Britain shook his head. "You know that America needs to be monitored. Besides, I have to dry out and crush the root we just got, so I might as well take care of that then add it into the potion. It takes about a day."

Russia was excited to pack a bag for the day, although he did not need much. We went to bed early since the drive to Ottawa would be long, although the fright in the evening brought back my nightmares of zombies. Russia woke me constantly, sighing in empathy when there seemed to be no end to them. When it became a ridiculous number, he dragged me into a sitting position without discussion and massaged my shoulders.

The tenseness faded from me, and at some point, I had collapsed into slumber. It was now a peaceful one, and the next time I woke was with the alarm. We both hustled to get ready, the night forgotten as we ate quickly then departed. In the car, Russia was nearly bouncing with excitement to have a lone adventure with me, although he would have to wait by himself during my meeting.

Or so I had thought. My phone rang halfway into the trip, which I put it onto speaker after seeing who it was. I informed him that Russia was listening, but it turned out not to matter, since it was an announcement that the meeting was cancelled. There were many apologies for the short notice, but I let it slide since I wanted to take Russia to Ottawa anyway.

After hanging up, I told Russia, "Now we have lots of time and we'll get there early… So maybe… you would like to have a tour of the Parliament?"

I preferred the day without the meeting. After exploring some parts of Ottawa, I went to a small shop with Russia that sold some Russian products. He was excited to make me try a certain non-alcoholic drink, so I bought it among other things that he recommended, before we began heading back early.

"So, what's so special about this drink?" I asked him.

"You like the maple syrup," he answered. "This drink is birch sap. I was wondering if you would like it although it is from another tree."

"Birch?" I smiled. "That does sound strange to me."

Russia opened it. I took the bottle to my lips and drank the clear liquid. I smacked my lips then passed it back, commenting, "It's alright."

Russia leaned in and smiled. "But it is not maple!"

I laughed. "Yeah, nothing can really beat maple."

We drank it all on the way back and ate other assorted Russian snacks. He was amused with my reactions, always smiling and bright-eyed. I forget to message the others when I was too entertained by the person beside me. When we arrived home, I then remembered that I had not told them that I was coming back early.

When I came through my door however, I was glad that I had not. A second after entering, I recognized the shriek of a chainsaw echoing from somewhere far away. It did not take much thought to know exactly where it was coming from and why.

I screeched, but those who could not hear me could not hear my vain screams to stop. The room zipped past me and suddenly there was America's door, slapping into me and crunching my nose. My hands forgot how to properly work the handle, and instead, my body fell into bestial panic. I threw myself at it with all of my strength, breaking the door off its hinges and sprinting off with blood leaking from my nose.

The door to the basement was hardly handled with any more care. As the final barrier, I attacked it with flailing slaps and punches until it gave in, swinging inwards and allowing the sound of the roaring chainsaw to rush upwards and over me.

I don't remember running down the stairs. Perhaps I had leapt down all of them at once, but my ankles stung as I whirled around the corner and saw them. Britain was holding down America and pulling one of America's arms out. France was the one wielding the chainsaw, and he was just a few centimetres away from letting its metal teeth rip through the scrawny shoulder.

No one could hear my cries against this. France shouted when I rammed into him, stumbling in surprise and spinning. The whining metal slashed open my shirt and effortlessly ripped a scratch diagonally across my chest from my ribs to my shoulder. With huge and horrified eyes, France frantically shut off the chainsaw then dropped it.

The cut was shallow, but they were both shocked by the red that lit up across my front. I gasped and glanced down, seeing my own bleeding chest heaving from my adrenaline and abrupt sprint. Already though, they had broken out of their shock to begin yelling at me.

"Canada! What were thinking?" France cried. "You could have gotten seriously hurt, jumping at me while I was holding that!"

I trembled and snapped my gaze away from the cut. Behind them, I could see the shovel against the wall. I had never put it there. They had brought it down, and the gun as well, although it was difficult to spot in its new post on one of the shelves. There were only two feelings that consumed me to see in seeing the weapons and the guilty positions that they were still locked in. The first was anger; the second and most prominent one was anguish.

"How could you!" I shrieked. "You waited until I was gone, and then-"

"It had to be done!" Britain hollered back. "I'm not leaving until it is!"

"I don't want you to!" I wailed. "I told you, I told you- I can't bear it and I don't want you to do it! It's only a month… Please, why do you have to do this? He can feel everything! I remember how it felt when you did it to me, and it hurt so much! But he can't scream because you couldn't listen to him! Y-you two cut out his vocal cords so that you wouldn't feel bad! You're ly-lying to yourselves! You don't want to think about how you're hurting him!"

France shot back, "We can't take the risk of something worse happening to you! America will understand. He will-"

Britain hopped off America and strode up to me. Despite his injury, there was complete authority in his voice, eyes, and posture. He pushed against my shoulder, a black hand print pressing into my shirt as he held me at a stiff distance.

"Get out. Now. You think you are being good by protecting your brother, but you are selfish! Haven't you once thought about how I feel, leaving you here with him? Why can't you understand how I worry about your life while I'm away? I can't physically protect you! All I could do was keep you sane and make sure that you took the threat seriously!"

America shifted and rolled onto his side. His head flopped and his two orbits gazed over at us. It did not seem like he had the strength to lift himself up. My eyes flashed over the healing cuts from where his muscles had constantly been sliced. Baring my teeth, I stepped near and gestured to him, snapping my head back to Britain.

"You know that Russia will stay with me!" I yowled. "You know that I have a gun and that I am able to shoot him if needed! How can you look at him as he is now, and want to saw him into pieces? We have made him so weak, and now you want to rip America apart!"

France tried to step in. "Canada, don't go too close to him. You don't understand how fast he heals. Every day… haven't you noticed? We constantly have to go down to keep him in this state. If we didn't… Canada, you have no idea how powerful he is right now."

"That's right." Britain breathed out slowly and with tension. "He is as strong as his usual self. Perhaps stronger. This game of how fast he can heal and how fast we can cut him… It is too risky. Didn't you listen to what we said before? The more we hurt him, the more desperate he gets. It got a whole lot worse after you shot him. We have to do this."

My eyes now shook over America's form. He had pulled himself onto his hands and knees, now coming to a full stand. Britain tripped him and hopped back, now redirecting his efforts to pull me away from the corpse.

"He cannot hurt anyone…" His voice changed from a yell into a soothing whisper into my ear. "This is what he would want, Canada…"

The tears slipped from me, slapping the floor as I wavered and dug the heels of my palms into my eyes. I could feel that I was losing the fight, but every part of me did not want my brother to be treated like this. The idea of a freezer had once haunted me, but the pain that it had brought me was nothing to the reality that I faced now. Like a murder victim, America would be cut into grotesque pieces and stuffed away like a body to hide.

It was just so uncaring. The pain he would feel meant more to me than the risk of me being the one to get hurt.

Like a child struggling to walk, I lost my balance and feel to my knees, unable to rise again on my own. Bleeding, sobbing, I blocked out everything else. I knew America was by me; I could hear him and how the others constantly pushed him back. At his level, the scrapes of the floor were loud and close, but I was not so afraid. I remembered the time when he had wiggled lose, and how he had known it was me.

Russia was the one he wanted. I felt sure that it wasn't really me that he was trying to get to. The scraping kept coming back, but my body refused to move. France and Britain were huffing and gasping, and I could start to hear the worry in the quick sounds they made.

"There's just too many of us!" Britain snapped. "You two, get out of here now!"

There was Russia's hand on my back, trying to squeeze under my armpit so that he could yank me to my feet. So he had been here the entire time, quiet in the background. I pinched my arm and resisted, but Russia grabbed me and pulled me back. It was a little more rough than what I was used to, and from it I knew that he had been frightened to see me that close to America.

Russia looked away and hurried us to the stairs. I screamed and pulled against him, whipping my head back and crying, "Please don't! Please! There has to be another way- there has to-"

Britain wavered. There was a certain sorrowful shine in his eyes that indicated that he had thought of something, but his mind and heart were conflicted. Whatever it was, he said nothing. He would rather do what they had meant to do, before I had come home hours early to stop them.

America leapt up and they shoved him to the ground. As they struggled and kept him low, I bawled at Britain, "What did you think of? There is another way! There is!"

"Enough!" Britain cried. "Just leave-"

Russia had been busy tugging me up the first stair. He had seemed to be ignoring the entire matter, until France and Britain both screamed. True screams, without any words or any other emotion except for fear. America had bolted free from their grasps and skidded across the basement towards us.

I had seen it all since my head had already been directed towards them. His legs moved in a blur that I had never seen in life. America was so fast that I had barely any time to react before he was lunging at Russia with bared, orange teeth. And Russia had only heard the incredibly fast tapping across the floor, merely able to turn his head before America had pounced at him.

I did not think. I shoved Russia away and fell over him. America collapsed onto me, his thin fingers scratching and his teeth gnashing as he tried to get past me. I grabbed onto him tightly and rolled to the floor, crushing the spasmodic skeleton under my weight. America buckled and bridged, slipping his arms free from my hands and slapping at me.

The bones clacked against me and I saw his mouth opening and closing. Screaming. He was trying to scream his shrieks of awful desperation, but he could not make a sound. I understood the sickness, the emptiness, and the cold inside him that made him long for the warmth and freshness. I knew how he felt and why he was screaming for just someone to save him.

America was so strong. I fought against him, crying and whispering, "Stop, stop… I can't let you hurt him. Please… Britain will heal you. You don't need to… you don't…"

He could not hear me. America launched upwards and threw me back, but this time, he did not run with his freedom. Once I was flipped onto my back, the skeleton scrambled over me and sank its teeth into the meat by my neck. I shrieked and pushed, hearing everyone else yelling out my name and rushing to me.

Before anyone else could pry him off me, I could feel it. The tears kept raining down my face while I felt the vicious pulling of my blood into his body. He did not have a stomach, and so my blood leaked into his body and sank. Through some of the stitches, holes, and cuts, some of the blood was already slipping back out and dripping scarlet drops onto my chest.

I writhed once, but then the weight was gone. What followed was one horrible, crunching sound, and I rolled over to see America beside me, flailing and screaming silently as the shovel came down again.

We heard the bones crack again along with an awful wet sound. I saw Russia standing over America with flaming, merciless rage stamped into his face. He did not snarl or wrinkle his face, but it was the eyes that were horrifying, for it was where all the anger was contained. They were piercing like shards of glass, yet also frigid like the unforgiving depths of the icy ocean. The pupils constricted and the purple that I had once marveled over due to its uniqueness, had almost taken on another colour entirely.

America collapsed and did not move again, his arms now splayed out and his body as lifeless as the average corpse. Yet, the wrath did not leave Russia. He struck America again, the horrible sounds echoing throughout the basement anew. He raised back the shovel, but France and Britain tried to grab hold of it and him.

"Stop!" They shrieked in tune. Russia threw them off him with unrestrained aggression, their bodies striking the walls and leaving him free again. Russia smashed America with the shovel again. And again. His ribs split and poked out his chest. Juices and organs began to leak from the holes, the stitches, and all of the old injuries.

He was going too far. My stomach clenched in sickened horror as I watched America breaking apart more and more from each blow.

He's going to destroy him!

Russia raised the shovel again.

America was still not moving.