Oftentimes Canada hated the fact that he looked like America. At other times he found his invisibleness and forgettable nature to be a burden. The times Canada hated the most was when the two instances collided, and people thought he was America and didn’t take notice of what he said. Times like now, in fact.
'Look. I'm not Alfred Jones, eh? I'm Canada-ian. I can't help you!'
Canada wondered if he was shouting (no louder than America talking, though) into an empty room. Maybe the men (plural? Singular? Women, even? He didn't know) had left him and forgotten he was there. Maybe they would never return, just leave him here to fade away to nothing. Even more nothing. Would anybody notice he was gone? Cuba, America, France, England? How many months would it be before any of those stupid jerks remembered him for long enough to search for him?
'Hey, kidnappers! I'm still here!' He tugged at the duct tape tying him to the pole. Just like the last time, it wouldn't budge. 'Hey! Don't forget about me!'
Canada was vaguely pleased when he felt a gag get put over his mouth. At least they had heard him. He hadn't been forgotten, yet.
He heard a pair of footsteps wander off, followed by a door opening and closing, the sound echoing around a large empty area. Canada shook his head wildly, trying to remove the blindfold. It didn't budge. He started shouting again, trying to get any sound past the gag. The faint sound didn't even reach the walls to bounce and echo.
'No! NO!' Canada tried to scream, but the sound was too muffled to make any difference. He wanted to collapse, but the tape around his arms and legs and waist kept him upright and stopped him from falling to the ground. The only thing he managed to do was make his blindfold a bit damper, but that didn't help him at all. He slumped against the bonds and tried to get his breath back.
After a minor breakdown, Canada decided he would get out of here. He strained his muscles as he pulled at the tape, trying to escape it. It would have to give eventually! He gave up when his muscles screamed so much he felt he would be sick. Then he started sobbing again. He would never be found. He would never get out. Would the kidnappers even come back? What would they do when they realised he wasn't America? He didn't even try to fool himself that they might just let him go. The best possible outcome he could hope for would be a bullet and a (very) shallow grave. He could survive that.
He tried not to think of the worst. Weighted down and tossed in the river to drown, again and again and again. Buried so deep he couldn't dig his way out, placed in a box or wrapped in tarp. Burnt.
He couldn't prevent the bile from rising up the back of his throat at the last thought, memory. He tried to spit it out only for it to get trapped on his gag, making the nausea worse.
He vomited, sobbing as the chunks caught on the gag, and what made it free landed on his feet. He flopped his head forward and just left it hanging there, not bothering to move, caught in his depression.
He didn't know how many hours he'd been hanging there before he heard more footsteps coming across the floor towards him. He tilted his head up slightly. More than one person. Who..?
There was a slight gasp as he lifted his head. Canada frowned; that gasp almost sounded familiar. A large hand tugged the gag down from his mouth and a bottle was placed against his lips. 'Drink.' The voice was gruff yet familiar. Canada almost couldn't believe it might be true.
'Sweden?' The blindfold was tugged off his eyes, and after a few moments blurriness, during which a pair of glasses was put over his eyes, he found himself staring at the large nation.
'Y’ done with th’ tape?' Sweden glanced down, to where Canada could now feel a tugging at his clothes, which was identified as Finland cutting away at the tape with a small knife.
'Nearly!'
Canada found himself looking between the two. Never in his entire life had he been happier to see them. And how had he ever thought Sweden to be scary?
'How..?'
'Ah! Sealand was looking for you, and saw you being attacked by some strange men, then came to get us.' Finland finally finished cutting the bonds, leaving Canada to sag into Sweden’s strong grip as his numb legs refused to work.
'I'll have to thank Sealand later.' Canada mumbled, as the other two helped him from the building.
Oh, this was good. I liked this a lot. Nice choice on who saved him, too. Wasn’t expecting Sweden and Finland to be honest, but the fact that Sealand witnessed Canada being kidnapped was a very nice touch.
Enjoyed this immensely, author-anon. Thank you very much.
'Look. I'm not Alfred Jones, eh? I'm Canada-ian. I can't help you!'
Canada wondered if he was shouting (no louder than America talking, though) into an empty room. Maybe the men (plural? Singular? Women, even? He didn't know) had left him and forgotten he was there. Maybe they would never return, just leave him here to fade away to nothing. Even more nothing. Would anybody notice he was gone? Cuba, America, France, England? How many months would it be before any of those stupid jerks remembered him for long enough to search for him?
'Hey, kidnappers! I'm still here!' He tugged at the duct tape tying him to the pole. Just like the last time, it wouldn't budge. 'Hey! Don't forget about me!'
Canada was vaguely pleased when he felt a gag get put over his mouth. At least they had heard him. He hadn't been forgotten, yet.
He heard a pair of footsteps wander off, followed by a door opening and closing, the sound echoing around a large empty area. Canada shook his head wildly, trying to remove the blindfold. It didn't budge. He started shouting again, trying to get any sound past the gag. The faint sound didn't even reach the walls to bounce and echo.
'No! NO!' Canada tried to scream, but the sound was too muffled to make any difference. He wanted to collapse, but the tape around his arms and legs and waist kept him upright and stopped him from falling to the ground. The only thing he managed to do was make his blindfold a bit damper, but that didn't help him at all. He slumped against the bonds and tried to get his breath back.
After a minor breakdown, Canada decided he would get out of here. He strained his muscles as he pulled at the tape, trying to escape it. It would have to give eventually! He gave up when his muscles screamed so much he felt he would be sick. Then he started sobbing again. He would never be found. He would never get out. Would the kidnappers even come back? What would they do when they realised he wasn't America? He didn't even try to fool himself that they might just let him go. The best possible outcome he could hope for would be a bullet and a (very) shallow grave. He could survive that.
He tried not to think of the worst. Weighted down and tossed in the river to drown, again and again and again. Buried so deep he couldn't dig his way out, placed in a box or wrapped in tarp. Burnt.
He couldn't prevent the bile from rising up the back of his throat at the last thought, memory. He tried to spit it out only for it to get trapped on his gag, making the nausea worse.
He vomited, sobbing as the chunks caught on the gag, and what made it free landed on his feet. He flopped his head forward and just left it hanging there, not bothering to move, caught in his depression.
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There was a slight gasp as he lifted his head. Canada frowned; that gasp almost sounded familiar. A large hand tugged the gag down from his mouth and a bottle was placed against his lips. 'Drink.' The voice was gruff yet familiar. Canada almost couldn't believe it might be true.
'Sweden?' The blindfold was tugged off his eyes, and after a few moments blurriness, during which a pair of glasses was put over his eyes, he found himself staring at the large nation.
'Y’ done with th’ tape?' Sweden glanced down, to where Canada could now feel a tugging at his clothes, which was identified as Finland cutting away at the tape with a small knife.
'Nearly!'
Canada found himself looking between the two. Never in his entire life had he been happier to see them. And how had he ever thought Sweden to be scary?
'How..?'
'Ah! Sealand was looking for you, and saw you being attacked by some strange men, then came to get us.' Finland finally finished cutting the bonds, leaving Canada to sag into Sweden’s strong grip as his numb legs refused to work.
'I'll have to thank Sealand later.' Canada mumbled, as the other two helped him from the building.
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Enjoyed this immensely, author-anon. Thank you very much.
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