Wake up.


England, wake up.

He frowned, still not quite ready to lift his heavy eyelids. Grogginess still slithered through his body, but slowly, his mind was clearing. Sliding his leg towards himself, he vaguely noticed that the sheets he was lying in were much too coarse to be his.

Sunlight streamed through the window he recalled he left open when he had retired for the night; a warm breeze had been filtering through. The breeze was gone now, in fact, it felt quite stuffy and much too hot for his tastes. And how on earth was the sun so bright already?

As he came to, England became aware of the immense discomfort in his arms. He attempted to shift them to a more comfortable position, only to realize that his wrists were tied above his head.

He snapped awake. This was not his bedroom, and as if that wasn't shocking enough, someone was currently shining a flashlight right in his face. Eyes burning, he squeezed them shut again, desperately kicking his legs out, only to bang his head on an iron headboard. A small whine of pain escaped his lips. This, of course, provoked his captors into a burst of cruel laughter. The one not holding the light reached out, gripped England's chin in his fingers, and tilted it towards himself.

"DON'T BLOODY TOUCH ME!" He shrieked, biting the man's hand. The man cursed and glared at him before rearing back and cracking the back of his hand across the country's pale cheek. The force smashed his head into the headboard again, but England gritted his teeth, and cut a piercing glare at them, refusing to allow them to witness his pain.

The men stood. "He didn't tell us the country would be this feisty." One nursed his bitten hand.

England almost gasped. The man's voice was dripping with an American accent. And for that matter, how did they know he was a country?

"Yeah, I hope he knows what he's doing." The two stalked off, leaving the Englishman wide-eyed and speechless. Only when he heard the door slam shut behind them did he snap out of it, screaming at the closed door for them to "Untie me, you arseholes, godDAMMIT!" and earning a malicious chuckle from the hallway.

He yanked, pulled, bit, did all he could to snap the cords around his wrists, but all he succeeded in was making them pull tighter. The tough leather dug into his wrists, creating rose-colored rings on the tender skin. I swear, the next time I see that fucking Yankee, I'm going to rip his throat out. An image of said Yankee popped into his head, bright blue eyes, blonde hair lying perfectly on his head, save for a single golden lock that stood up, the man himself bursting with energy. Damn. England bit his lip. All the two ever did was fight, and England was growing tired o it. He wished they could go back to the old days, when America was still his precious little colony and they were both so happy. At least I was.

A sliver of light cast across the uncomfortable bed when the door finally creaked open. England instantly tensed, mentally preparing himself for whatever would come. He kept his eyes shut. The bed's springs creaked as someone sat on the edge. When nothing happened, the Englishman tentatively peeked out from his eyelids.

"Hiya England!"

England practically smashed his head on the headboard again. "AMERICA?! What in hell's name are you doing here?! No, better question, how the hell did I get here?!"

America laughed. "Dude, I had someone bring you. How else would you be here?"

"BRING ME?! I was bloody KIDNAPPED, you git!" He lashed out, wrists screaming against the cords as he spat, "You could've just called!" His pride wouldn't let him say it hurt, but he kept attempting to get at the man sitting across from him. I'm going to kill you, America…I swear, I'm going to bloody fucking kill you…

"Relax British dude, you're gonna hurt yourself or somethi—"


The American smirked and England stopped moving. Something was different about the glint in the man's eyes.

"No can do, England."

"And why not?"

"Because if I did, you'd run away."

England froze. A shiver ran down his spine. "Excuse me?"

"I said, you'd run away." He leaned in, breath tickling England's ear. His voice dropped to a whisper. "So just relax and enjoy yourself, 'kay?"

England was officially scared now. "America…? Are you alri—aah!" His voice cut off when America lightly bit his earlobe. He flushed a colorful shade of red. "What the bloody hell was that?!"

"Just the beginning…" His lips gently brushed down England's neck, making the tiny hairs on his skin rise. "I love you, England…"

"Wha—No, stop! Stop it, America!" England jerked back. "You can't just…"

"Just what?" The American gazed at him, eyes filled with longing.

For a moment, England almost lost himself in those eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, brighter than the sky on a summer day…no. He shook himself, quickly regained his composure, and broke. His eyes brimmed with tears, the salty liquid seeping out the corners.

"Don't you think you've put me through enough already? Don't fuck with me!"

"I'm not."

"You left me. You broke a promise you swore you would keep. I'm not going to believe you so easily."

"Do you want to know the reason I left?"

England winced inwardly as America continued. "I only declared my independence so I could stand on level ground as you. I never meant to hurt you; I just needed you to be able to see me as more than your little brother."

Suddenly, his neck twisted sideways with a sickening pop. As America's head readjusted, he pinned England beneath him with alarming speed.

"America!" The other shrieked in shock, but the eyes that glared back at England were no longer the child-like innocent eyes of his former brother. Their sapphire color no longer held a laugh, their luminescence gone, replaced by cold azure animosity.

"But then of course," this new, frightening America continued, "no matter what I did to show you I loved you, you just kept bitching about EVERYTHING." He savagely ripped his hand down England's shirt, exposing his quivering chest. "I'll bet you know exactly how it feels, to be rejected by the people you love, don't you. After all, no one really returns those feelings, do they, Black Sheep of Europe?"

Paralyzed underneath him, England couldn't tear away from his piercing gaze as icy hands slid up his pale skin. Fingers encircled his neck, resting there threateningly.

"But I do. And YOU," America tightened his grip, violently squeezing the air out of the smaller man. "YOU never cared. So I thought to myself, 'If I can't get you to love me, then why don't I just take you instead?"

His cruel laughter filled the room. England thrashed beneath him, heart pounding against his ribcage, pulling at the leather cord desperately. Smiling down at him, America waited until his movements began to slow before finally releasing him, gasping for the room's musty air.

Without warning, he hitched England's legs up and yanked his pants down.

"NO!" England snapped out of his breathless daze, screaming. Jerking his leg back out of America's grasp, he smashed his heel into the other's face. "Don't touch me!"

The American rubbed his cheek, a dark look in his eyes, before digging his fingers into England's hair and slamming his head into the iron bars.

Pain stabbing through his skull, England could barely hear himself screaming over the sound of the metal reverberating over and over, louder and louder. It numbed his sight, leaving him a stranger, a grotesquely pixelated image of the boy he'd always loved, the boy who had caused him so much pain over the years. He's grown up so well, hasn't he…

His eyes widened in horror as the pixels rearranged to reveal this new America brandishing his erected member in front of him. Metallic clangs still echoing in his head, his body wouldn't obey him, wouldn't resist, couldn't tear his eyes away from his impending doom. All he could do was scream helplessly as America pulled up his limp leg, pressing his cock to his entrance. England squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself.

The pain was like nothing he could've imagined, America's full length having been shoved inside roughly, splitting him in two. "AAAAAH!" His back arched impossibly far, hell's tendrils reaching up and destroying him from the inside.

He heard the other moan in pleasure as he began to pump himself in and out. Each thrust sent an excruciating bundle of knives through his body; his agonized cries melded one into the next. Heart beating rapidly, England's breathing came out in short bursts between mangled shrieks. As he struggled, the leather cords sawed at his wrists. Blood streamed down his arms in little trails, crimson shocks against his pale arms.

He began to go numb, little by little, the pain negating itself until all feeling in his body was gone. England stared into America's cruel blue eyes one last time, and he fell into darkness.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" When America awoke, a horrific scene lay in front of him. England lay unconscious underneath him, wrists shredded by the leather cord, his face streaked with tears. His alabaster skin had stained black and purple around his neck, waist, and legs...each bruise in the shape of hands...My own hands

"No…Oh dear God, no…" America held them out in front of him, shaking. "England…oh God…oh God…no, no, NO!" Slamming his hands into his face, he erratically raked them through his hair. He wanted to close his eyes and have everything be fine when he opened them, but his eyelids felt glued open, burning the image of his broken England into his skull. Fragments of memories stabbed at him. Things that he couldn't have, wouldn't have done. But he did.

"Oh God, I didn't want—this wasn't supposed to happen!"

He bent down and sliced the cords binding England's wrists and gently scooped up the body of the man he loved. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as he cradled him close to his chest.

I knew he was dangerous, I knew it! Why couldn't I stop him?! WHY?!

"God DAMMIT!" Speaking to no one in particular, he screamed into the musty air. "This has gotten out of hand! You weren't supposed to…God, what have I DONE?!" Laying England's body down on the bed softly, America covered him with the dingy sheet. He winced when he saw the blood stains.

"England…I am so sorry, so sorry England…" Sobs wracked his body over and over. His hand brushed over a hard metal object and traced it with his finger. His gun. A lightbulb popped overhead, sending a small wave of sparks down to the floor as he picked it up, confidently placing the muzzle to his head. "I'm going to do something I should have done long ago. I'm going to end you. Forever. You can't hurt my England anymore, okay?" He took one last look at his beloved before pulling the trigger.

So, I've decided to take requests, any pairing, BUT...I can only take three. Just leave the pairing, type (IE fluff, smut, friendship, AU, etc etc, you know the drill), and any other specifications. Comment fast, because only the first three I get will be picked! I'll be writing those between updating 'Endless Soul', which, by the way, is SO getting a title change because it sucks pretty badly...