Russia/America/Canada - Substitutes - 3a/??
anonymous
May 1 2012, 09:09:13 UTC
My apologies for the long delay, but I kept thinking I should go a different direction. I'm still not sure I like the way Al goes from broken to not-broken, but it kind of makes sense in my head, and even if I don't love it, I like it better than any of the other versions I've done.
WARNINGS: Abuse, broken!America, insane!Russia - if you've gotten this far, you're probably good. **
Russia had not been willing to let him rest after cleaning up his own mess, dragging him across the floor to clean up the semen Russia had spilled while watching them. He obeyed, fighting down the bile that rose in his throat. What else could he do?
When the floor was licked clean, his head was pulled up, Russia's hand dragging a torn piece of cloth (a piece of Can - no, Litva's discarded shirt, he noted) across his chin, wiping his chin and cheeks clean with a gentleness that seemed so foreign.
“Latvii cannot even clean up a little mess without getting it all over his face, can he?”
The name made him cringe, but he clung to it, wrapping his mind around it over and over until it was his. It wasn't, not really, but at the same time, it had to be. He had to be Latvii, just as his brother had to be Litva, because Russia would know if they weren't, and then Russia would hurt Litva or he would make him hurt Litva again.
It was the only way he could think of to protect his brother. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Something that wouldn't even begin to make up for what he had done.
He was torn from his thoughts by a fierce backhand that sent him sprawling, crying out in pain as he caught himself on aching arms.
“You will not ignore me, Latvii.” Large hands pulled him back up, stroking the cheek that had been struck. “You are mine, you and Litva. You will remember that, yes?”
Trembling at the touch, he nodded.
“Such a good boy, my little Latvii.”
Then Russia was kissing him, a fierce kiss that has nothing to do with love or passion. It was an action of dominance, of possession; meant to bruise and mark rather than convey emotions.
“You know who you belong to now, yes?”
It was a question he might have ignored before, if it didn't send him off on an angry rant, but now, half-naked and acutely aware of what Russia could do if angered, he could only nod.
Russia's hand was heavy on his shoulder. “Out loud.” The fingers tightened, the other hand moving to rest in his hair, clutching painfully at the strands when he hesitated for a brief moment.
Closing his eyes, he whispered, “R-Russia. I. . . I belong to Russia.”
It was a betrayal of himself, and he could feel the ache of self-loathing settling in his stomach, but Litva's naked, bleeding form was visible in the corner of his eye, and that was enough to keep him from acting out.
“Very good,” Russia hummed in satisfaction. “Very good, Latvii.”
And then, without warning, Russia was up, standing over him like a giant. “You will sleep now. We will see if you still remember your lesson in the morning.”
Without a protest, Latvii lowered himself to the floor with arms that threatened to simply collapse beneath him, and peeked up to see Russia smiling proudly. He watched Russia walk away with half-lidded eyes, worry and anger that he didn't dare express welling up inside of him as Russia bent to wipe the blood from Litva's face, whispering words he couldn't quite make out.
Litva didn't move, and Latvii had to force himself to remain still as well - Russia was right there, and if given an excuse, could crush Litva's skull as easily as the shell of an egg, if he didn't make good on his promise to fuck Litva himself.
It felt like a lifetime, as Latvii's muscles began to ache from the tension; only his fear for his brother keeping him from throwing himself between the two, before the knock at the basement door startled him. “Rossiya? Are you down there?” He cringed as Russia stood, closing his eyes and hoping that whoever was up there would keep Russia busy for a good while.
Russia/America/Canada - Substitutes - 3b/??
anonymous
May 1 2012, 09:11:02 UTC
Still, he waited, listening to the footsteps as Russia made his way up the stairs. He heard the voices at the top of the stairs, Russia and someone who spoke to quietly to hear properly, but he didn't try to make out the words, too busy watching his brother for any sign of life.
As the worry built up inside of him, threatening to burst out, Litva felt that he had waited long enough, and pushed himself onto his hands and knees to crawl over to his brother's side. He moved slowly, trying to keep the shackles from rattling too much, but when he was close enough to touch, he bent over, searching for some sign that Litva would recover.
His breath caught in his throat as he realized that Litva wasn't moving.
“Litva?” His voice trembled, more suited to a small, scared child than the hero he knew he should be. “Litva? I'm sorry. Please wake up. . . . Please, Litva,” he pleaded softly, desperate to know that he hadn't killed his brother.
As though in response to his desperation, Litva moved, a small shift of his head, blond hair filthy with blood and dirt; his eyes remained closed, but it was enough - Litva wasn't dead.
He wanted so badly to curl up beside Litva and hold him close and promise that he wouldn't ever hurt him ever again, but the taste of blood and semen and dirt lingered in his mouth and his body was still smeared with blood that wasn't his, reminders of what he had done, reminders that he didn't deserve to be anywhere near Litva.
So he curled up on the floor facing Litva with his back to the stairs and pulled his knees in towards his chest, wrapping his aching arms around his legs, watching his brother's chest rise and fall so shallowly it was barely visible, his own breathing slowing unconsciously as he waited for Litva to wake up.
**
“Hello? Rossiya?” Lithuania shivered as he made his way through the empty house. Latvia had called him the day before, weeping and stuttering something about having Russia at his door. Lithuania'd only been half-awake, so he'd simply told him to lock the doors and hide under the bed and Russia would go away soon enough.
But Latvia still wouldn't leave his house, terrified that Russia was lurking just out of sight. Lithuania had been coerced into making sure that Russia was home, and not planning to re-invade Latvia anytime soon. Honestly, he expected to find Russia passed out at the kitchen table in the middle of innumerable empty vodka bottles, and then he could leave before Russia woke up and tell Latvia that everything was fine.
But Russia wasn't home.
And the door to the basement was locked.
“Rossiya?” A part of Lithuania wondered why he couldn't just leave and pretend he'd seen Russia, even as he rapped solidly on the wooden door. Another part was frozen in fear - Russia didn't lock the basement unless. . . . Something was wrong. He didn't know what, but something was very, very wrong. “Are you down there?”
There was no answer, and after a long silence, Lithuania turned to go, already trying to think of places Russia might have gone.
Then the lock clicked and the door opened. “Who is in my hous-” Russia stood gaping at him, “L-Litva?”
“I'm sorry, but you were-”
“How?!” How did you get up here?” Russia was staring at Lithuania as though he'd seen a ghost. “Why are you not bleeding?” One hand reached out as if to touch Lithuania's face.
Lithuania took an involuntary step back, muscles tensed to run. “I used the spare key. The one under the flowerpot.” His eyes narrowed, “Why would I be bleeding?”
“Did you die?” Russia didn't seem to have heard a word Lithuania had said. “Did I kill you?”
“Rossiya .” Lithuania was scared - it was never a good thing when Russia started talking about death - but the horrible feeling of wrongness lingered in his belly and urged him on. “Why would I be bleeding?”
Russia/America/Canada - Substitutes - 3c/??
anonymous
May 1 2012, 09:13:07 UTC
“You left me.” Russia's eyes were wild, wide and desperate. “You left me, and you made Latvii leave me. I brought you back, but I had to make sure you didn't just leave again. And you were telling horrible lies, you and Latvii. . . I had to punish you. You understand, yes? I had to punish you, but you weren't supposed to die! I just wanted you to stay with me.”
Latvia? Latvia was at home, and Estonia hadn't called to say anything about him going missing in the hour since Lithuania had left them in Latvia's bedroom.
“Rossiya,” Lithuania began, a growing horror lining his words. “What's in the basement? Why were you down there?”
Russia held out his hands for Lithuania to see, and Lithuania realized that what he had thought was the shadows from the basement lights was a dark red stain across his palms and fingers; red like. . . Lithuania's mind nearly froze. Blood.
“I had to punish you.” Russia repeated, as if to justify whatever he had done. “You had to be punished for leaving and lying to me.”
“No. . .” Lithuania breathed out. “Who did you hurt, Rossiya? Who's down there?”
“You don't know?” Russia's brow crinkled in confusion, as he scrutinized Lithuania. “You are - were? You and Latvii.”
Russia had stepped far enough away from the open basement door for Lithuania to slip past him, darting down the stairs as quickly as he could, ignoring Russia calling his name even as he slipped his cell phone from his pocket. Someone had been hurt. Russia could be brutal when he thought the situation called for it, and if it had been bad enough that Russia would think for a moment that a Nation had actually died. . . whoever it was Russia had mistaken for him needed help.
And then, just as the filtered “Hei” reached his ears from the speaker, Lithuania reached the bottom of the stairs and saw them. He froze, only just managing to not drop his phone as he processed the horrific sight.
One man was moving, lowering himself to the ground next to the body sprawled out on the floor beside him. A familiar lock of hair visible over his head as he reached out for the body lying in a puddle of blood. It didn't seem possible for a human body to hold that much blood, much less survive its loss - and Lithuania sincerely hoped the body was human, because not even a Nation could lose that much blood without consequences, though death would not be one of them.
Lithuania had to swallow, fighting the urge to be sick.
What had Russia done?!
“Lithuania? Is something wrong?” Estonia's voice was as even as ever, with only a hint of rising panic when Lithuania didn't answer. “Did something happen? Lithuania?!”
Finally, Lithuania lifted the phone in his hand up to his ear, trying to keep from trembling.
“Estonia?” He spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb America. “I need help - do you know England's number?. . . No, it's bad. It's really bad.”
XXX
“America? . . .”
Startled out of his trance, Latvii's head flew up even as he cringed away from that name, shaking his head in fear. He wasn't! He was Latvii! He had to be Latvii! For his brother. For Litva.
“No! No lies!” He cried, curling over his knees and fisting his hands in his hair, hoping that Russia would believe him. “No lies! No games! Please!”
“It's okay, Am-” A choked back sob. “It's okay. I'm here to help.” The voice was quiet and trembling, nothing like Russia's, and he pushed himself up, twisting around slowly, not wanting to hope. Even if it was a friend, Russia would be right behind them, ready to hurt Litva and him at the first sign of rebellion. “I'm here to get you out.”
Brown hair, horrified green eyes: he knew this person, and something inside of him burst.
“T-Toris?” Tears welled up in his eyes, as he looked up. “No! You can't be here!”
What would Russia do if he learned that Canada wasn't Litva? Russia would be so angry.
“It's alright,” Green eyes shone with righteous anger. “I won't let Russia hurt you or your friend any longer.”
“Rescue?” Warmth sprouted in his chest, hope growing despite his best efforts to fend it off. “Litva too?”
Russia/America/Canada - Substitutes - 3d/??
anonymous
May 1 2012, 09:15:28 UTC
“Lit-?” Lithuania's gaze moved to where Litva laid unconscious behind him, eyes sharpening and then growing wide with horrified realization. “Canada? Oh. Oh, God.” Without warning, Lithuania fell to his knees, hands over his face as his stomach emptied onto the floor.
Latvii (he couldn't risk being himself again until Canada was safe) didn't move, torn between his friend and his brother, still waiting for an answer. He didn't really expect Lithuania to only take him, but a part of him, bitter and angry and so filled with hate it scared him, screamed into his mind.
Why isn't Lithuania the one bleeding out on the floor?!
Why would Lithuania risk himself for the one who took his place?!
Why hadn't he come sooner?
Then Lithuania looked up, distinctly more pale than earlier as he wiped his mouth with trembling hands, and Latvii shoved away the angry thoughts, hating himself all the more. This was Lithuania, one of the most gentle, most caring Nations he'd ever known, and Latvii knew without a doubt that Lithuania never would have let another be hurt in his place if he had known. He would not leave Litva behind.
“Both of you are getting out of here now,” Lithuania straightened, a light in his eyes that Latvii had never seen before. “Can you stand?”
Latvii nodded, pushing himself up with a rattle of chains. It took a moment, he was aching and tired, but soon enough he was on his feet; his wrists protesting as the shackles pulled them down.
Lithuania was already gathering Litva's unconscious body into his arms, heedless of the blood that was already beginning to stain his sleeves. He held Litva (could he be Canada again, did Latvii dare risk thinking it...) gently over his arms with the shackles draped over his neck, before nodding to Latvii. “Let's go. England will be here soon enough, but we should meet him.”
Latvii led the way, trying to shove down his fear that Russia would catch them, would force them back down and hurt them even more - that Canada would suffer for his foolishness. He had to be brave, he had to be the hero again, though he was still shaking from his earlier failure.
He reached the first step and froze, glancing back at where Canada was draped over Lithuania's arms. Lithuania would protect Canada, even if he couldn't. He could be America again. No, he had to be America again.
He had to be the Nation who had once stood toe to toe with Russia and refused to back down. The Nation that he had been not even a full day ago; before he had hurt Canada so horribly.
“Am- ah, are you okay?”
He closed his eyes, focusing on his strength, on the anger burning deep inside of him - screaming for blood, for someone (Russia, him, anyone) to die for Canada's pain - and when he opened them again, he was America.
“I'm fine.” He gave Canada one last soft, guilty look; before meeting Lithuania's determined gaze. “Keep him safe. No matter what happens, no matter what Russia does, no matter what I do, you get Canada out of here. Nothing else matters, so long as Canada is safe.”
Lithuania looked surprised, but nodded, as though nothing else had ever been an option. “England's on his way.”
Ignoring the pain as the shackles rubbed the open wounds on his wrists, America just shook his head and turned back to the stairs. He didn't want England to see him, to know what he had done, how weak he had been. But England would make sure that Canada and Lithuania got away safely, and that was all that really mattered.
Canada would be safe if it was the last thing America ever did.
** Getting closer to the end here. Probably two more parts - Escape and Aftermath. I'll try to cut the time between updates, but no promises. Real Life is a bitch.
Re: Russia/America/Canada - Substitutes - 3d/??
anonymous
May 9 2012, 05:25:24 UTC
Oh well done. I thought America's thought process was pitch perfect.
I didn't mind the sudden switch..It might be hard to believe if this went on for months, but it was a short timeframe. And it feels like America is putting on a front, like Hero!America is a mental mask as much as 'Latvii' was. Though I've found that some people really do get braver if they are concerned more with someone else than their own safety.
WARNINGS: Abuse, broken!America, insane!Russia - if you've gotten this far, you're probably good.
**
Russia had not been willing to let him rest after cleaning up his own mess, dragging him across the floor to clean up the semen Russia had spilled while watching them. He obeyed, fighting down the bile that rose in his throat. What else could he do?
When the floor was licked clean, his head was pulled up, Russia's hand dragging a torn piece of cloth (a piece of Can - no, Litva's discarded shirt, he noted) across his chin, wiping his chin and cheeks clean with a gentleness that seemed so foreign.
“Latvii cannot even clean up a little mess without getting it all over his face, can he?”
The name made him cringe, but he clung to it, wrapping his mind around it over and over until it was his. It wasn't, not really, but at the same time, it had to be. He had to be Latvii, just as his brother had to be Litva, because Russia would know if they weren't, and then Russia would hurt Litva or he would make him hurt Litva again.
It was the only way he could think of to protect his brother. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Something that wouldn't even begin to make up for what he had done.
He was torn from his thoughts by a fierce backhand that sent him sprawling, crying out in pain as he caught himself on aching arms.
“You will not ignore me, Latvii.” Large hands pulled him back up, stroking the cheek that had been struck. “You are mine, you and Litva. You will remember that, yes?”
Trembling at the touch, he nodded.
“Such a good boy, my little Latvii.”
Then Russia was kissing him, a fierce kiss that has nothing to do with love or passion. It was an action of dominance, of possession; meant to bruise and mark rather than convey emotions.
“You know who you belong to now, yes?”
It was a question he might have ignored before, if it didn't send him off on an angry rant, but now, half-naked and acutely aware of what Russia could do if angered, he could only nod.
Russia's hand was heavy on his shoulder. “Out loud.” The fingers tightened, the other hand moving to rest in his hair, clutching painfully at the strands when he hesitated for a brief moment.
Closing his eyes, he whispered, “R-Russia. I. . . I belong to Russia.”
It was a betrayal of himself, and he could feel the ache of self-loathing settling in his stomach, but Litva's naked, bleeding form was visible in the corner of his eye, and that was enough to keep him from acting out.
“Very good,” Russia hummed in satisfaction. “Very good, Latvii.”
And then, without warning, Russia was up, standing over him like a giant. “You will sleep now. We will see if you still remember your lesson in the morning.”
Without a protest, Latvii lowered himself to the floor with arms that threatened to simply collapse beneath him, and peeked up to see Russia smiling proudly. He watched Russia walk away with half-lidded eyes, worry and anger that he didn't dare express welling up inside of him as Russia bent to wipe the blood from Litva's face, whispering words he couldn't quite make out.
Litva didn't move, and Latvii had to force himself to remain still as well - Russia was right there, and if given an excuse, could crush Litva's skull as easily as the shell of an egg, if he didn't make good on his promise to fuck Litva himself.
It felt like a lifetime, as Latvii's muscles began to ache from the tension; only his fear for his brother keeping him from throwing himself between the two, before the knock at the basement door startled him. “Rossiya? Are you down there?” He cringed as Russia stood, closing his eyes and hoping that whoever was up there would keep Russia busy for a good while.
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As the worry built up inside of him, threatening to burst out, Litva felt that he had waited long enough, and pushed himself onto his hands and knees to crawl over to his brother's side. He moved slowly, trying to keep the shackles from rattling too much, but when he was close enough to touch, he bent over, searching for some sign that Litva would recover.
His breath caught in his throat as he realized that Litva wasn't moving.
“Litva?” His voice trembled, more suited to a small, scared child than the hero he knew he should be. “Litva? I'm sorry. Please wake up. . . . Please, Litva,” he pleaded softly, desperate to know that he hadn't killed his brother.
As though in response to his desperation, Litva moved, a small shift of his head, blond hair filthy with blood and dirt; his eyes remained closed, but it was enough - Litva wasn't dead.
He wanted so badly to curl up beside Litva and hold him close and promise that he wouldn't ever hurt him ever again, but the taste of blood and semen and dirt lingered in his mouth and his body was still smeared with blood that wasn't his, reminders of what he had done, reminders that he didn't deserve to be anywhere near Litva.
So he curled up on the floor facing Litva with his back to the stairs and pulled his knees in towards his chest, wrapping his aching arms around his legs, watching his brother's chest rise and fall so shallowly it was barely visible, his own breathing slowing unconsciously as he waited for Litva to wake up.
**
“Hello? Rossiya?” Lithuania shivered as he made his way through the empty house. Latvia had called him the day before, weeping and stuttering something about having Russia at his door. Lithuania'd only been half-awake, so he'd simply told him to lock the doors and hide under the bed and Russia would go away soon enough.
But Latvia still wouldn't leave his house, terrified that Russia was lurking just out of sight. Lithuania had been coerced into making sure that Russia was home, and not planning to re-invade Latvia anytime soon. Honestly, he expected to find Russia passed out at the kitchen table in the middle of innumerable empty vodka bottles, and then he could leave before Russia woke up and tell Latvia that everything was fine.
But Russia wasn't home.
And the door to the basement was locked.
“Rossiya?” A part of Lithuania wondered why he couldn't just leave and pretend he'd seen Russia, even as he rapped solidly on the wooden door. Another part was frozen in fear - Russia didn't lock the basement unless. . . . Something was wrong. He didn't know what, but something was very, very wrong. “Are you down there?”
There was no answer, and after a long silence, Lithuania turned to go, already trying to think of places Russia might have gone.
Then the lock clicked and the door opened. “Who is in my hous-” Russia stood gaping at him, “L-Litva?”
“I'm sorry, but you were-”
“How?!” How did you get up here?” Russia was staring at Lithuania as though he'd seen a ghost. “Why are you not bleeding?” One hand reached out as if to touch Lithuania's face.
Lithuania took an involuntary step back, muscles tensed to run. “I used the spare key. The one under the flowerpot.” His eyes narrowed, “Why would I be bleeding?”
“Did you die?” Russia didn't seem to have heard a word Lithuania had said. “Did I kill you?”
“Rossiya .” Lithuania was scared - it was never a good thing when Russia started talking about death - but the horrible feeling of wrongness lingered in his belly and urged him on. “Why would I be bleeding?”
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Latvia? Latvia was at home, and Estonia hadn't called to say anything about him going missing in the hour since Lithuania had left them in Latvia's bedroom.
“Rossiya,” Lithuania began, a growing horror lining his words. “What's in the basement? Why were you down there?”
Russia held out his hands for Lithuania to see, and Lithuania realized that what he had thought was the shadows from the basement lights was a dark red stain across his palms and fingers; red like. . . Lithuania's mind nearly froze. Blood.
“I had to punish you.” Russia repeated, as if to justify whatever he had done. “You had to be punished for leaving and lying to me.”
“No. . .” Lithuania breathed out. “Who did you hurt, Rossiya? Who's down there?”
“You don't know?” Russia's brow crinkled in confusion, as he scrutinized Lithuania. “You are - were? You and Latvii.”
Russia had stepped far enough away from the open basement door for Lithuania to slip past him, darting down the stairs as quickly as he could, ignoring Russia calling his name even as he slipped his cell phone from his pocket. Someone had been hurt. Russia could be brutal when he thought the situation called for it, and if it had been bad enough that Russia would think for a moment that a Nation had actually died. . . whoever it was Russia had mistaken for him needed help.
And then, just as the filtered “Hei” reached his ears from the speaker, Lithuania reached the bottom of the stairs and saw them. He froze, only just managing to not drop his phone as he processed the horrific sight.
One man was moving, lowering himself to the ground next to the body sprawled out on the floor beside him. A familiar lock of hair visible over his head as he reached out for the body lying in a puddle of blood. It didn't seem possible for a human body to hold that much blood, much less survive its loss - and Lithuania sincerely hoped the body was human, because not even a Nation could lose that much blood without consequences, though death would not be one of them.
Lithuania had to swallow, fighting the urge to be sick.
What had Russia done?!
“Lithuania? Is something wrong?” Estonia's voice was as even as ever, with only a hint of rising panic when Lithuania didn't answer. “Did something happen? Lithuania?!”
Finally, Lithuania lifted the phone in his hand up to his ear, trying to keep from trembling.
“Estonia?” He spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb America. “I need help - do you know England's number?. . . No, it's bad. It's really bad.”
XXX
“America? . . .”
Startled out of his trance, Latvii's head flew up even as he cringed away from that name, shaking his head in fear. He wasn't! He was Latvii! He had to be Latvii! For his brother. For Litva.
“No! No lies!” He cried, curling over his knees and fisting his hands in his hair, hoping that Russia would believe him. “No lies! No games! Please!”
“It's okay, Am-” A choked back sob. “It's okay. I'm here to help.” The voice was quiet and trembling, nothing like Russia's, and he pushed himself up, twisting around slowly, not wanting to hope. Even if it was a friend, Russia would be right behind them, ready to hurt Litva and him at the first sign of rebellion. “I'm here to get you out.”
Brown hair, horrified green eyes: he knew this person, and something inside of him burst.
“T-Toris?” Tears welled up in his eyes, as he looked up. “No! You can't be here!”
What would Russia do if he learned that Canada wasn't Litva? Russia would be so angry.
“It's alright,” Green eyes shone with righteous anger. “I won't let Russia hurt you or your friend any longer.”
“Rescue?” Warmth sprouted in his chest, hope growing despite his best efforts to fend it off. “Litva too?”
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Latvii (he couldn't risk being himself again until Canada was safe) didn't move, torn between his friend and his brother, still waiting for an answer. He didn't really expect Lithuania to only take him, but a part of him, bitter and angry and so filled with hate it scared him, screamed into his mind.
Why isn't Lithuania the one bleeding out on the floor?!
Why would Lithuania risk himself for the one who took his place?!
Why hadn't he come sooner?
Then Lithuania looked up, distinctly more pale than earlier as he wiped his mouth with trembling hands, and Latvii shoved away the angry thoughts, hating himself all the more. This was Lithuania, one of the most gentle, most caring Nations he'd ever known, and Latvii knew without a doubt that Lithuania never would have let another be hurt in his place if he had known. He would not leave Litva behind.
“Both of you are getting out of here now,” Lithuania straightened, a light in his eyes that Latvii had never seen before. “Can you stand?”
Latvii nodded, pushing himself up with a rattle of chains. It took a moment, he was aching and tired, but soon enough he was on his feet; his wrists protesting as the shackles pulled them down.
Lithuania was already gathering Litva's unconscious body into his arms, heedless of the blood that was already beginning to stain his sleeves. He held Litva (could he be Canada again, did Latvii dare risk thinking it...) gently over his arms with the shackles draped over his neck, before nodding to Latvii. “Let's go. England will be here soon enough, but we should meet him.”
Latvii led the way, trying to shove down his fear that Russia would catch them, would force them back down and hurt them even more - that Canada would suffer for his foolishness. He had to be brave, he had to be the hero again, though he was still shaking from his earlier failure.
He reached the first step and froze, glancing back at where Canada was draped over Lithuania's arms. Lithuania would protect Canada, even if he couldn't. He could be America again. No, he had to be America again.
He had to be the Nation who had once stood toe to toe with Russia and refused to back down. The Nation that he had been not even a full day ago; before he had hurt Canada so horribly.
“Am- ah, are you okay?”
He closed his eyes, focusing on his strength, on the anger burning deep inside of him - screaming for blood, for someone (Russia, him, anyone) to die for Canada's pain - and when he opened them again, he was America.
“I'm fine.” He gave Canada one last soft, guilty look; before meeting Lithuania's determined gaze. “Keep him safe. No matter what happens, no matter what Russia does, no matter what I do, you get Canada out of here. Nothing else matters, so long as Canada is safe.”
Lithuania looked surprised, but nodded, as though nothing else had ever been an option. “England's on his way.”
Ignoring the pain as the shackles rubbed the open wounds on his wrists, America just shook his head and turned back to the stairs. He didn't want England to see him, to know what he had done, how weak he had been. But England would make sure that Canada and Lithuania got away safely, and that was all that really mattered.
Canada would be safe if it was the last thing America ever did.
**
Getting closer to the end here. Probably two more parts - Escape and Aftermath.
I'll try to cut the time between updates, but no promises. Real Life is a bitch.
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MY FEELINGS ARE SPEWING ALL OVER THE PLACE OH GOD
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I didn't mind the sudden switch..It might be hard to believe if this went on for months, but it was a short timeframe. And it feels like America is putting on a front, like Hero!America is a mental mask as much as 'Latvii' was. Though I've found that some people really do get braver if they are concerned more with someone else than their own safety.
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