25 Ways Of Dying (CountryHumans RusAme)

Starvation

America groaned as his bones seemed to realign themselves, he stood up and rolled his shoulders. He scratched his head and looked around where he was - a dark concrete room with nothing inside of it.

America's eyebrows furrowed, he swore he was just at school... burning alive. Was this hell, perhaps? That was possible. It was also possible this was apart of the 'experiment' Russia had mentioned.

Wait.. Russia. America wondered. Where was Russia? Who exactly was he? Did he want to show America something? America just wasn't sure.

"Hello?" He called. No reply. Just him. He huffed and sat in the centre of the room, hugging himself; he'd just noticed his stomach pain... it was gone. Not a single trace of it. He looked to the ground - it was lonely in here. He wanted to talk with someone. Anyone. But he knew that wouldn't happen. Not as long he was in there.

"What the fuck?" He complained after a long minute. He was already bored, he turned over and laid down. This was tiring. And he was hungry. He just wanted something to eat, then maybe, just maybe, he could use his brain. 

Time passed as America paced around the room, hitting his head on the walls gently and humming his favourite music. He'd listen to the echo and amuse himself with that, though it didn't do much. He concluded that nothing would happen.

It didn't help that he was really hungry, too.

Tempted to bash his head against the wall, America waited... And waited.. and waited. He laid down again and closed his eyes, trying to pass the time - sleep didn't come easily, but it came eventually.

*

America had been here for hours. His hunger was out of control, he contemplated eating stray rocks, but decided otherwise. He had to eat. Something, anything!

His attention turned to himself. His arm.

No, he couldn't possibly...

America screamed at himself, he was delusioned. Insane. He knew it might've been to early to go insane, but hell, it felt that way.

"Someone, please!" He cried, "Help me!"

Of course nobody answered. Nobody came. Nobody helped America. America was in pain. He wondered how long this torture would last, when he'd been released. Maybe he wouldn't be released?

He just wasn't sure.

America, his back against the wall, hunched over in hopes of reducing the pain, rocking back and forth. This wasn't good. Far from it.

America groaned as tears stung his eyes, he felt as though he was about to break down. Probably the last thing he wanted to do. 

Then a though occurred to him; how long had he been here? Hours? Days? Weeks? His head hurt - it'd definitely been a long time, but how long, he wasn't sure. He couldn't even think about what this 'experiment' thing Russia said because of the pain he felt. 

America felt tired; what'd be the harm in taking another nap? It wasn't like time would go any faster anyway. He let himself drop to the floor, he didn't think straight - he thought he took a nap, when really, he was going unconscious. Blacking out. He felt dizzy as he closed his eyes.

..And opened them again, but in a different place.

Again.