APH Fanfic 13: Whispers in the Dark

France P.O.V
Kneeling down next to Antarctica, I could clearly see the cuts and bruises on her face; she looked ragged, with wild eyes in place of the calm oceans that had once taken their place. She seemed surprised—almost scared—to see me, as though she'd never guessed I'd have allied with Russia. It was almost too difficult for me to understand, myself.
"Wh-who are you?" Antarctica asked with a cracking voice. I was reluctant to answer for reasons even I didn't quite understand, but I pulled my lips into a tight line. She let out a shaking breath, soundlessly falling back to the ground in what might have been defeat. I wanted to tell her all that was in my head, wanted to assure her that Russia wasn't going to hurt her… anymore, at least. But I couldn't. I could not lie to her even more than she'd been already.
"Please… tell me…?" she quietly sobbed, tears welling in her eyes like an overflowing dam. A pair of cold hands clenched my insides like kneading dough for pastries. What was this feeling, exactly? I'd known love too many times to know it wasn't that. But something sinister, frightening, and overall horrible, like eels of misery slithering through me.
I reached for my shirt, causing Antarctica to flinch as if I were about to strike her. Why would I do this? The bitter cold in my system grew, expanding like a balloon. "Please!" Antarctica pleaded, struggling in her bonds. She knocked Peru in the head unconsciously, immediately ceasing her squirming at the feel of her knee in the other country's hair. She sighed a broken sigh, almost like a gasp; in that moment, it hit me. This feeling… guilt.
~~
Antarctica P.O.V
"Mon cheri, do not struggle…" the blonde next to me reached out with a shaking hand. I flinched away, his fingers narrowly brushing against the cut on my cheek. It stung like a million needles, yet at the same time it did not hurt as much as the horrible truth I'd come to assess; I'd been kidnapped. I felt the lump of fear and sadness in my throat threatening to pull my heart out with it, but I swallowed it back. This was the time to be strong.
I looked away from France, training my eyes on Peru; her hair was still in her face, blocking my view. I sighed… just as France sat with his legs crossed next to my friend. I nearly screamed, wanting to hit him as he maneuvered his hands around her shoulders. He looked at me with an unreadable expression, not blinking as he turned Peru onto her back, resting her head on his leg as though to comfort her.
Now that she was on her back, I realized how dead she looked; her hair was crusted with blood in some places while a line of tried blood traveled from a cut in her bottom lip all the way to her chin. Her eye was nearly swollen shut with a huge plum-colored bruise hiding her brown skin. Her neck had smaller bruises. I swore they were from fingers that had wrapped around her windpipe in psychotic rage.
France gingerly brushed hair out of Peru's face, sighing in what could have been disappointment. I took my eyes off of her, staring back up at him. He simply shook his head. I gave him a glare in return; I felt this glare, like my face tightening against my very skull while I clenched my jaw to keep from screaming my lungs out. He stared back, expressionless, a statue of a person.


~~
Elsewhere…

Russia P.O.V
The warehouse was eerie, but not still; I could feel the rush of the lonely souls I'd trapped here. I rounded a corner into a dimly lit hallway, my eyes trained on the door at the end of the hall. Huge, thick and made of steel, it gleamed as though it were the gateway to heaven. I smiled inside of my scarf, my own breath moistening my lips as I reached the vault.
A few turns and the door opened with ease. I stepped into a dark room, lit only by a small gas lamp in the back on a small table. In the room, I saw the two figures outlined in the low light of the lamp, the bulk of two large wooden chairs with lesser outlines of women in them. "Good evening, damy."
I could see Cyprus's faintest movement, her ivory skin outlined in the darkness. She groaned, low, like a man. Yet, somehow, she sounded as frail as a child, as though wind could break her into bits. "Where… am I?" she asked lamely, her words slurred like a drunk. "A secretive location, devushka." I informed her. "Of course, exactly where shall remain a secret."
"You… you bastard…!" she hacked, unable to breathe as she spoke. "Maybe I am, devushka, maybe," I nodded, "but you are a threat. I do not like anything that threatens me."

~~
Cyprus P.O.V
My cold body burned as my blood boiled; my eyes had not yet adjusted to the dim lighting of the room I was in, but that sweet voice was one I'd not heard before. "Who… why…" I tried my mind spinning. My toes looked utterly close suddenly, just before they shot miles away. My stomach heaved and hurled as though an angry typhoon were crashing within me. I coughed, feeling the wetness of blood on my lips with each hack.
"'Who' is not important. But 'why'? That is a question I am willing to answer." said the childishly sweet voice. It faltered, rose, crashed, blurred, like a symphony; I gasped, choking on blood as my attacker gripped the front of my shirt in a hand the size of an oven mitt. I felt hot breath on my face as words came like whispers around my head, "You and your friends are interfering with us Allies, and corrupting the others with your flaunting outfits and your feminine 'charm'. I have had enough."
"What the fuck are you talking about," I coughed, hoping to spit blood on his face. "We haven't done any—"
I squeaked, feeling a fist slam into my jaw like a freight train. I felt tears threatening to spill out of my eyes, but I squeezed them shut, not willing to cry. Not now.
Another voice joined the chorus in my head; Ireland. I could hear her slurred groans somewhere near… or was this also in my head?

~~
Ireland P.O.V
I felt the knot in my throat mingling with the sharp, throbbing pain in my skull. My palms were drenched in cold sweat to match my face, whereas I felt as though I were in a meat locker. I felt the Earth tilting but could see only the dark, "Ello?" I called weakly, wondering if I'd been locked in the bar after closing. Again.
"Ah, hello." I heard from a distance; this voice was unfamiliar. "Ey, who's there!? I'll mess you up!" I yelled, causing the headache to blaze like a flame inside my head. I tried to kick, only succeeding in slicing my ankles on the rope bonds around them. I gasped, shaking my arms… also bound in a tawny rope.
"Where am I? Where is that bastard, FRANCE!?!?" I screamed, squirming until I felt the chair tipping over; I hit the stone cold floor almost instantly, feeling that small heart attack one gets when they lose their balance. I knocked my head on the concrete, hearing a loud crack on impact. The throbbing in my head was now a roaring ache in my body as if someone had impaled me right through the eyes.
I gasped; with a low creaking, I was right-side up again, the chair slamming back into place. I exhaled, the gravity shift tugging at the pain in my head. I refused to open my eyes, feeling the heat of someone looming over me like a phantom. "Careful, now, devushka," I heard, a hissing softness in the male voice. "Wouldn't want to die too quickly."