Prove Me Wrong (Rusame)

Escape Cabin

Narrator's POV

"Amaerica playse stawp ih'!"

Australia stood over his said brother, trying to steady him as he thrashed. His wrists and ankles were tied down, a padded strap across his chest to help further restrain him. He had burned and bruised his wrists with the last rope so they made him cuffs for more comfort, padded with stuffing to not injure him further. He looked like a patient in a horror movie's mental hospital.

America's voice screamed in a forgotten language, crying out in words foreign to Australia's ears. His mouth was stained with the dried black substance, creating lines down to his throat and sides of his face. He had stopped throwing up and was now only left in hysterical screaming.

America raised his chest in the air suddenly, causing Australia to flinch. He was only trying to break free of the restraints, he reminded himself. He sat back down in America's desk chair and hugged his chest. He really didn't want to be there, he really didn't want to just sit by and watch his brother suffer and scream until his vocals were practically torn to shreds.

Last time he was left unsupervised, America had gotten free and had tried to make it for the front door. He screamed at them in another unknown language, trying to get past them. He was clearly willing to do anything to get out, attacking Canada with his utility knife and almost stabbing him. Zee managed to tackle America and that's where they were able to restrain him again.

"America, playse, " Australia rubbed his eyes and tried to hold back his tears. "Playse, stawp."

Outside the bedroom, the screaming was barely muffled. Britain and France were waiting outside the door, waiting for it all to stop so they can release their son.

Britain clutched his cane with tight fists, holding it close to his chest. His eyes were shut tight and his lips spread needle-thin. He was trying his best to try and ignore the obvious, what could one do when their child suffering and they can't do anything about it?

France was doing her best to console her husband, resting her head on his shoulder and rubbing her hand on his arm. She knew she couldn't do much to better the situation, the only thing she could do was make sure he didn't wait alone.

"What are we to do?"

Britain peaked open his eyes to look down at her.

"I don't know. What can we do?"

"We can tell 'im what we know."

"You know we can't do that." Britain shot down the idea quickly, lowering his cane and trying to straighten out any fear he might have been showing. "You know what it'll do to him."

"Non, " France's tone dropped. "We think wé know what eet might do to 'im."

Britain sighed and lowered his head. For a moment all that there was is America's screams.

"We can't. If he's managed to forget, than perhaps it's a good thing, " Britain reminded her of their past conversations. "You know what he had done to them. He was the worst of us, of course, he'd want to forget."

"Hon, ai know what you went through zen was 'airribuhl (horrible), but you steehl remember what you'ave done ét made yurself bettair. Why must we stop 'im from doing la sam?" France protested, flinching when America yelled angrily.

"Everything is oh-kai!" Australia yelled, knowing that his parents were outside the door guarding it in case he managed to get past him.

"France, the troubled past does not need to be tampered with, " Britain stood his ground, walking away from the door a little to pace around some. "America and I have a good standing with each other right now. Even if we do argue, it's the best it's ever been."