25 Ways Of Dying (CountryHumans RusAme)

Poisoning

America jolted up, taking a deep breath in; he was in another place, but it looked kinder, almost. Well, instead of a concrete box, it was a polished oak wood instead. In the centre of the room, a small table with a single plate of food and a glass of water stood. America felt sort of hungry, not starving like he did.

Why was that?

With a slight bit more sanity than last time he was awake, he began to question things; what exactly happened? He was in that empty, dark, concrete box, and now he was here. He was starving. He thought about eating himself... several times. Was he missing something? Possibly, very possibly.

America's thoughts paced, he started with why he suddenly didn't feel as hungry. Did he die? And come back here? Or did someone take him here? Was this all just a hallucination?

America came to a conclusion; he'd died. As unlikely and strange as it sounded, he didn't think that someone would take him here. Was there?

America traced his hands over the walls, trying to find a hidden door or lever of some sorts, his hands only running across the bumps and cracks in the wood. He searched the floor as well, looking up at the ceiling, too; he brushed his fingers over the roof, but sadly, no luck. 

He shook his head; no way to get in, no way to get out. Nobody took him here. And the pain he felt was all too real - not a hallucination. Maybe he'd died once in the fire, but came back... here? In hell? But maybe it had to do something with the experiment Russia mentioned?

America growled and kicked the wall - he could even hear that it wasn't hollow behind the wall. Probably stone, if he was being completely honest, and he didn't like it. Not a bit.

"Nobody's here either?" America tried, no reply, "Of course. Please, just get me outta here."

America soon turned towards the food and water. The food was warm, the water nice, icy cold. The way he liked it. A tasty looking chicken leg sat atop the plate, its smell drawing America in further. America's stomach grumbled, he was still hungry - and he couldn't wait to eat.

America's hands hovered over the food, his mouth watered. This could be a trap, he kept reminding himself. But, his self control had been thrown away from the moment his attention turned to the chicken, his hands jerked forward. He grabbed it, beginning to tear at it. He teared every last piece of meat off the bone, licking his fingers and dropping the bone on the plate.

He looked up, content, he felt amazing after that. Nothing was wrong. Maybe the reward for what he went through previously? He couldn't help but grin at that thought. Maybe the one behind this wasn't that bad after all?

He contemplated what everything meant while he took a sip of the water, his worries being washed away with the liquid. America brought the glass back up to his lips again, before pausing; he didn't feel so great. His eyebrows furrowed as he stumbled around, dropping the glass; something was in that. 

He fell to the ground... drifting away.

Before waking up.

Again.