What is... "Home"? (Hetalia Fanfic, Part 2)

Chapter 101~!

"So, dudes, I was thinking we should try to design another RP video game. Those things sell a ton!" America said as he sat by the window in his dorm room. China and Japan sat in a chair backwards and on America's bed, respectively, listening as they discussed their next plans for the gaming world.

"Hai, those do serr very werr at good times," Japan agreed. "We wirr have to come up with a storyrine, and from what genre."

"Will I actually get to help with that this time, aru?" China asked. "It's boring to just produce them!"

"Sure, dude!" America said as his eyes wandered to the small plant sitting on England's side of the desk. America groaned in remembrance. "Aw, crap. England'll kill me if I let his plant die."

"Where did Engrand-san go?" Japan inquired.

"He had to go back to England for a couple weeks to take care of some legal stuff," America replied as he dumped out a large drink that had gone flat and was at room temperature. "Honestly, happiest last few days of my life. No constant nagging to pick up my clothes or my garbage." Rather than going to the bathroom for water, though, he decided to hold it out the window and catch falling raindrops with it instead.

Not two minutes into their discussion, a heavy-sounding patter fell straight to the bottom of the fast-food-brand plastic cup. Curious, America looked in it and nearly threw the cup far away out of fear. As it was, he practically crushed it in his iron grip.

"America-san?" Japan asked, sounding a bit worried.

"What is it, aru?"

"L-Look!" he cried out, pointing the dented cup at them both so they could see the bright red splatter staining the bottom. Both Asian countries' eyes widened in surprise.

"Aiyah, what is that all about?" China wondered.

"I-Is it a ghost?" America asked no one in particular as he cautiously looked out the window and up. A dark shape was growing larger as it fell, but rather than shying away his heroic instincts kicked in and he held his arms out, catching the person before he or she hit the ground twenty feet below. The momentum and inertia nearly pulled America out of the window himself, but China and Japan both latched onto his arms while he dug his heels into the floor. With their combined strength, they were able to lift the girl into the safety of the room.

China was the first to realize who it was. "Melina, Ó, wǒ de shàngdì!" (oh my god!)

They lowered her to the floor and examined the damage done to her. She bore a gash on the side of her neck, a cut in the front and right on her throat, and the inside of her left arm was intricately carved deeply enough to be bleeding heavily. She clutched a scalpel in one hand, the blade coated in red.

"Oh Jesus," America said, feeling the side of her neck that wasn't slashed for a pulse. It was faint, very weak, but still there. "Oh god, she's still alive!"

Japan pried the weapon out of her hand while America and China removed their shirts to use as something to staunch the bloodflow.

"Did she do this to herserf?" Japan wondered quietly as he knelt next to her head.

"God, I hope not," was America's reply.

"We should call an ambulance, aru!" China exclaimed, pressing his balled-up shirt tightly against her neck.

"I wirr do it," Japan said as he pulled out his cellphone and dialed 911 rapidly.

Snapped-Melina's eyes shot open and she leaped up like a blur, searching frantically for the scalpel. Lunging for Japan, she snatched it from him and pressed it against her throat. America grabbed her wrists from behind and forced the blade away from her neck while she struggled violently.