45I haven't updated. I am a bad person. I am sorry. OTL. Please forgive me, lovely readers. I've had alot on my plate lately, but you shouldn't have to be punished for that.
On a brighter note, I have (pompously) decided reviews are mandatory :D MWAHAHAHAHAH
I've actually done alot of reading lately, which I hope will help me write from better points of view, and make the story more easy to understand, and keep it compelling.
In apology for not updating more recently, I have decided to explain one mystery in the next chapter, even though I didn't plan to so early. But I figure I have a few more that I can reveal later on, and I really should throw you guys a bone. You deserve it for being so patient.
Thanks so much for the support, everybody! I really do appreciate it.
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A Hex Chapter 12
Denial is the first stage of grief.
The sixty-ninth object fell from the ceiling. Things really were speeding up. If they got any faster, England might be cut by one of the sharp things in haste. The edges were ragged, but clean, so there was a reduced probability of getting infected. Nonetheless, he didn't want to endanger himself.
Then, two objects fell. The first fell into his field of vision. The second did not. Instead, as England reached for the clear piece of shattered glass, the lid of a tin can sliced his forehead open.
"Tch!" England winced as a thin line of blood rolled down his nose. His hand went instinctively to his forehead, but refocused on the task and warily placed the tin in the hole to the right of him.
By the time the trash stopped falling, England had several gashes on his arms and legs. They bled quickly, soiling his once-white clothes. His heart pounded prominently. The loss of blood made his head spin a bit. He even had to wrap a particularly nasty slice on his upper left arm with a strip of his shirt.
Despite the injuries, England was somewhat pleased with himself. Underneath his armpit was a large piece of glass with a dull side that rested against his skin. Now he had a weapon and a tool.
It seemed Master did not mind (or notice), and the door opened and England left the room. However, while he expected the hallway he had come from, he was shocked with another room filled with familiar faces. Do not be fooled by what you see.
Plucking the 4th nail from her left hand's palm, Liechtenstein kept her facial expression neutral, except for the teeth sinking into her lower lip.
Its rusted edges were quite the hassle; nails were very difficult to remove, as she couldn't get them out without inflicting more pain. To add to that, both hands were soaked in her own blood, making it difficult to grasp the slippery object. With one last agonizing tug, it came out.
There was a soft "clink" as the nail fell to the ground. They were all gone now. A shaky right hand grasped the white fork. She retrained from letting out a sigh of relief. Master roughly snatched the fork from her, and with that, he was gone.
Take off lingerie.
Put on regular clothes.
Gently stretch the stiff limbs.
As the normal routine continued, she felt nothing of substance. All that existed in this place was sadness, pain, and dull monotony. Despite this, she was jolted out of that mindset when something new happened. What she saw when she opened the door was different, and she took a uncertain step into an unexpected room, rather than the hallway she grown used to going down.
It had been about 3 hours since Italy had left. Generally, Germany had a detached, controlled exterior, but now Germany's thoughts were crowded, panicked. He thought of Italy, but at the same time, he thought of Prussia. Who was dead? You know the answer to that. He paced around the interior of the unfurnished white room. This time when reached the end of the room and turned around, he could see a black rectangle at the end of the room. He gritted his teeth and walked forward. As he approached, an image flashed across the screen.
Suddenly, Germany was dizzy. Stress does that to people. His legs gave way.
The world was swirling. As it slowed down, the door opened and a smiling Italy stepped into the room, bowl of pasta in his hands, coated in a delicious looking marinara sauce. The sauce seemed to be a rich red, with oregano gently gracing the top. He tried greeting his friend, but found himself unable to speak. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, and felt rough stitches affirming his lips shut. A cold shiver ran down his spine, and looked up to Italy, whose pasta was no longer present. On the contrary, as he was now crying and wearing a black suit. In Italy's hands was a picture of Prussia's rotting corpse. Powerless.
When Germany awoke, a worried pair of red eyes was staring back at him. He jumped back in surprise, accidentally head-butting his red-eyed brother in the process.
"Ouch! That hurt, Luddy!" Germany stared at his brother, speechless.
"What? Do I have a zit r' something? Ah, who am I kidding, my awesome skin couldn't be blemished by anything uncool like that!" Prussia's arrogant laugh was cut short by Germany's strong embrace. Germany noted an oddity. Prussia usually smelled of daisies (much to his disdain), but this place evidently took the smell away from him. No scent emanated from his brother's skin.
"I…I was worried about you… brother..." Even after all the years, Prussia was still his older brother. He was always Germany's brother.
The embarrassed albino patted the taller man's head and pushed him off. "You're ruining my cool manly-ness! Say, do you know where we are anyway?"
"No."
"Well darn. Let's get out of here, then."
Germany smiled at the antics. He missed those too. More than that, he couldn't believe Prussia was there at all. But there he was, right in front of his eyes, plain to see.
When Estonia awoke, there were two main differences in his situation. Firstly, the room was significantly smaller. What had been the size of a living room was now the size of a regular bedroom. Luckily for him, Estonia had gotten rid of his claustrophobic tendencies a few years ago. He found the reasoning behind this change rather easily. Purely for the effect of unnerving him with a smaller working space, the captor hoped to derail his train of thought. This would make Estonia nervous by "boxing" him in a smaller, crowded spot, which would, in theory, defocus him. It was simple psychology and Estonia was determined not to let the mind games get to him.
The second change was his apparel. Upon self-inspection, Estonia found his clothes to no longer be white, but black. Oddly enough, this was more unnerving than the room change. This change was eerie, as he could find no logical reason behind it, other than to throw Estonia off. In addition, when he thought about how it must've happened, he realized with a shudder that a demented stranger had touched his naked body and there was absolutely nothing he could've done about it. The thought made him feel uneasy, insecure, and powerless.
It made him question Xeh's motives, as well. Why didn't he just kill his captives? It would have been very simple for him to have killed Estonia and the other countries, seeing as he had the ability to do so in a number of ways. The answer, while simple, was difficult to think about.
The only reason he kept them alive was to make them suffer.