Post by Deleted on Aug 3, 2012 12:36:27 GMT -6
A lonely figure lay amongst the dirty, rotting straw, partly hidden in the shadows of the ancient barn. Her slender form was curled into itself in a foetal-like position as a freezing breeze whistled through the creaking structure, causing her to shiver. As the blonde rolled onto her back, a soft groan escaped her lips. Her head was pounding, throbbing blindly as though someone had hit her with a shovel and knocked her out cold.
Again, another tiny moan echoed through the rotting rafters and Belgium pulled herself up to a sitting position, despite the reluctance and protests of her aching muscles. Tired olive green eyes slowly opened, and Belgium ran a hand through her short blonde locks, gently massaging the back of her head that was still dully aching.
The barn was far too quite. Apart from the nation herself, there were no other signs of life. No movement. Nothing. The only thing that you could possible count as “life” was the few specks of dust Belgium could just make out dancing in front of her face in the gloom. Otherwise, there was nothing. Emma had been expecting to hear maybe the coo of a pigeon stuck in the rafters, or see a spider scurrying down the wall beside her. But there wasn’t anything alive. The cold and lifelessness sent a shiver down her spine, causing the Belgian to instinctively pull her red cloak around her body tighter.
She squinted her olive green eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness. There wasn't much to see in the barn anyway. Piles of old hay scattered around the floor, a few worn and tattered saddles hanging on the far wall. Clearly, this place hadn't been used in many years. Just like the rest of this supposedly "haunted" manor, the barns were coated in dust and old, sticky cobwebs, limply hanging from the rafters above. Yes, it certainly looked like it could be haunted. The thing that was most concerning Belgium, however, was the lack of memory she had of ever coming to this place. She really had no clue how she had ended up in a random, old barn in the first place.
“Wat is er gebeurd?” she murmured to herself, her thoughts still muddled and groggy. For a moment, she sat in the silence, her eyes glazed over and focusing on a far wall as she tried to piece together how she had ended up here. Yet, everything remained a total blur.
The last thing she could remember was searching for her brother inside the manor, making her way through the winding hallways that were covered in shadows and riddled with cobwebs. She had no luck, and just when she was about to give up, a blinding pain in the back of her head consumed her into darkness. When she had woken up, she had found herself alone, lying on a mound of hay with little recollection and no idea about how she had ended up here. The first thing that crossed the Belgian's mind was, this was one messed up, twisted place.
God, what she would have given to be back home right now! She wished she'd never gone to America's stupid party and she wished she had never agreed to tag along in this stupid game of courage, or whatever it was called. Look at the situation they had all ended up in because of it!
All of a sudden, a feeling of panic engulfed the European. She was sitting, alone, in a dark barn that was part of a manor filled with ghosts and monsters... and she didn’t have her trusty pistol crossbow, her weapon, in her hands. At that realisation, the Belgian instantly paled, her pupils dilating as worry began to sweep over her. Had she lost it? If that was the case, Emma Lambert was positive she was in deep trouble. Actually, she was far more than in deep trouble. She was done for.
Almost instantly, she had forgotten about her pounding headache as another thought took over mind, obliterating any other minor concerns she had had before that point. The woman quickly stood up, hurriedly brushing the straw off her skirt before she began frantically scampering around the dark barn, rummaging through the straw and knocking over dust and cobweb coated objects that carelessly littered the stable floor.
“Where is it? Where is it?!” Belgium muttered under her breath, the anxiousness lacing her voice clearly audible and growing with each passing moment. Adrenalin began fiercely pumping through her body, her pulse so high it felt her heart would explode inside her chest at any given moment.
Emma bit down on her bottom lip to fight back the curses that were forming on her tongue. Now was not the time to lose her composure, she tried telling herself. She needed to stay as calm as possible in the situation. Clearly, though, she wasn’t doing a very good job at that.
The woman took a step back from another pile of hay she’d just torn through and clutched onto her head, her breathing heavy and deep.
“Come on Bel, think,” the Belgian hissed as she paced up and down the shadowed barn. “Where could it be? Did you look everywhere properly?”
She paused, mid-step, and creased her brow in deep concentration. She’d gotten so worked up, she realised that she hadn’t even looked for the weapon in the most obvious place. With a frustrated humph, Belgium stormed back over to the pile of straw that she’d woken up only a mere few minutes earlier. It was such a stupid mistake. How could she have been such an idiot?!
Sure enough, when she reached the slightly flattened pile, Belgium caught a glimpse of something, half hidden under the straw, glinting in the dim light. The object lay there, almost saying to her “Aren’t you stupid, getting all worked up like that?” The woman stood for a moment, staring at it with a mixture of frustration and relief. The next thing she knew, she lunged forward and frantically scrambled amongst the straw to pull out the pistol crossbow. Her fingers tightly wrapped round its cold handle as Belgium pulled it out, staring at it as though it was some precious treasure from an ancient era. And to her at this current moment in time, it was. It was the one thing that Belgium had left to cling onto.
Maybe it was pathetic, but Belgium didn’t have anyone else. Her brother, Mexico, Hungary, Norway, Northern Ireland... they were all brief moments of comfort for her between the never ending, aimless walks down empty corridors, alone with nothing but the noises that followed her. The other nations had been there with her for only short periods of time. And in that time, she had been more relaxed. She felt no worries. But then, no sooner had they met, she had lost each and every one again. The one constant thing, the only thing she had with her throughout, was her weapon. It would keep her safe, Emma knew that. Right now, it was a friend to her as well. If she held onto it, it wouldn’t leave her. She’d be safe for just a little bit longer... It was funny; she had to admit; that an inanimate object could mean so much to someone.
Belgium let out a heavy sigh as she held the crossbow tightly to her chest. She was just relieved to have it back again. Yes, she had over reacted, but the thought of losing the object was frightening. It was almost like at this moment in time, it was the last thing she had to cling onto. The last thing she had to protect herself with.
It was at that moment when Belgium realised something for the first time since she'd arrived. Ever since arriving in the manor, she had been on edge. Anything would set her off, it seemed. She was far more nervous than usual. But, the fact was, this wasn’t like Belgium at all. Emma never usually would be this frightened by strange noises or supposedly “haunted” mansions. In fact, she had always considered herself to be quite brave in comparison to some of the other nations. She believed could hold her nerve better than Italy for example (for a moment her mind went to the Italian, and she wondered if he was in the mansion and, if he was, if he was alright). So, why was she suddenly so afraid? This wasn’t like Belgium; not in the slightest.
The blonde woman gritted her teeth slightly as she lowered her weapon. This was getting ridiculous now. Everything was setting her on edge! The manor was messing with her mind.
“Honestly, België,” a little voice inside Belgium’s head scolded her disapprovingly for her behaviour. “You’re a nation; you shouldn’t be scared by a Halloween prank or whatever this is. You’ve gone through far worse than this and survived.”
That was true. She’d never really thought of it that way before. Why should she be scared of this place? She was a nation! Belgium had been through far worse than this. She had been invaded twice by Germany. She’d been under the rule of various other nations. She’d even fought her own brother for independence! And she was still here, still standing tall, proud and strong. In fact, she was a powerful country, no matter how small her size. You have to be pretty powerful to be one of the founding nations of the EU, right?
But even so...
There was still something nagging inside her, making her feel much less strong. Still a little tinge of fear she couldn't put out. It was a rather childish fear, like a fear of the dark (which Belgium had to admit, she was also scared of), but the female nation couldn't help but be afraid now she was alone. It was almost like she felt ten times more vulnerable without the company of anybody. Maybe it was the lack of laughter, or the horrible sensation when all you can hear is your own heartbeat, but all Belgium knew was that she was currently getting scared of something so trivial. But how could one who had been through so much, seen so much hurt and loneliness, be scared just by being alone? Emma had often wondered this much about herself. It was probably the most ridiculous fear any nation had. Yet, there was still something; no matter how childish Belgium thought she was acting by having such a fear, she couldn't help but still feel so afraid. Right now, the dark barn wasn't giving her much comfort.
“At least I didn’t really loose you,” Emma Lambert said with relief to the crossbow in her arms. The nation smiled to herself and sat down on the mound of hay behind her, and continued gabbling away to the inanimate object she was clutching onto for dear life, as though it would slip away if she loosened her grip even just a little bit. “You’re not going to leave me any time soon, toch? I really don't know what I would do in this crazy place if you weren't here with me...”
The woman trailed off, her eyes still glued to the weapon in her hands. Olive orbs widened as she suddenly became conscious of the fact she had just been having a conversation with a pistol crossbow. A wooden, lifeless object! A choked, horrified gasp escaped her throat and she suddenly dropped the weapon. Her hands flew up to her blonde locks and grabbed fistfuls of hair in panic. Bringing her knees up and tucking them under her chin, Belgium began to rock back and forth on the spot, her whole body trembling.
“Ik word gek...” she muttered lowly, her eyes darting around the barn frantically. "Je deviens fou... Ich werde verrückt... I'm going crazy... I'm sitting here talking to a crossbow..." Belgium paused again, biting her lip as she stared at a corner that was shrouded in shadows at the far end of the barn. "And now I'm talking to myself! I need to get a grip and calm down!"
The woman shivered and swallowed thickly as fear began creeping up her spine again. Her mind was racing, trying to work out if this was just some insane dream or reality. What was it again that Noorwegen had said to her earlier?
“You do have a right to be afraid. This place is… more than what it seems. There is more than you can ever imagine even in your nightmares, Belgia…”
Was this mansion really making her loose her own mind? She had never believed in demons and monsters before, but the fear inside her was growing constantly. And the stronger that fear became, the further and further away her sanity seemed. If there really was something here, something worse than their nightmares, could it really turn a girl mad?
A shuffling behind her caused the nation's ears to prick up. Something else was here. It only took a second for her to react. She let out a screech and, in a flash, Belgium grabbed her crossbow. Without even thinking, she span round and fired a bolt into the darkness. A loud thud followed by a tiny whimper filled the air. It didn't take long for the silence to return. All that could be heard was Belgium's heavy breathing as the adrenalin that was pumping through her veins began to dwindle. Her knees shaking, Belgium slowly stood up and cautiously made her way to whatever she'd shot. She found the silver bolt impaling a large rat, no monster or demon in sight.
The blonde let out an exasperated breath and ran a trembling hand through her hair as she desperately tried to suppress her nerves. One thing was for sure; the mansion certainly could turn a girl paranoid. The paranoia had cost her, though. She was now one bolt short, and if something else was there...
The woman didn't think twice as she bent down and pulled the bolt out of the animal's corpse. Now was not the time to act squeamish over a dead creature. Her main priority now was to get out of here as quickly as she could and find the others. Then, they could all escape together. They could all go home and forget this ever happened. Yes, that was the best plan. Get out! Get out now!
Suddenly, her feet were controlling her body, and she was running back in the direction she'd came. Her feet pounded on the dirty floor with a constant rhythm that mirrored the furious beating of her heart. Just up ahead of her, she could see it now drawing closer and closer. A large, old wooden door. The way out! Belgium picked up speed, causing the crossbow at her side to start thudding against her hip. But she didn’t care. She was so close... Almost there...
The blonde didn’t even bother stopping, and she crashed into the door that was keeping her inside the barn. Ignoring the pain down her side, she grabbed and pulled at the handle. Nothing happened. Again, she yanked and the handles, but the door didn’t budge. Of course the door was locked. She shouldn't have been surprised, quite honestly. Everything was locked, leaving Belgium trapped. Alone. In the dark.
Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful
Now was not the time for sarcasm, though. Belgium had to get out! She couldn’t stand being stuck in this godforsaken place anymore! Slowly, but surely, it was toying with her mind. If she couldn’t get out, god knows what would happen to her. Belgium didn’t even want to think about what the consequences of that could be.
“Somebody help!” Belgium screamed as the panic welled up inside her again and she suddenly dropped her crossbow and began pounding her fists against the door, praying that there was someone outside who could hear her. “I’m locked in! Please, let me out!”
Please let somebody be there. Please let somebody let me out. Please!
Of course, she wasn’t completely surprised again when nobody answered. Nobody was there. Luck really wasn’t on her side today, it seemed. Still, that didn’t stop her. She continued pounding on the door, harder this time. Her cries grew louder and louder, each word sounding far more desperate than the last.
“Please! Please get me out of here! Let me out!”
Now she could feel tears prickling the back of her olive eyes, the salty solution irritating her eyes and blurring her vision. Worry and anxiety was taking over her thought, muddling any rational thinking she might have had before. Her hands were burning in pain as tiny splinters of wood from the door began embedding themselves in her palms, causing tiny crimson drops of blood to start forming on her pale skin. Beads of sweat were running down her neck as the female nation’s body began trembling stronger than before. Her legs were feeling so weak; she could hardly hold herself up anymore. But still, she continued screaming.
“Help! Help me!” her voice was growing hoarse, making the words scratchy as they echoed in the dead air. The tears were falling from her bloodshot eyes and tumbling down her cheeks now, leaving streams of red staining her face. "Can anybody hear me?!"
Her whole body was burning in agony, her knees so weak it felt like they would give way at any second. Belgium’s hands were now turning a bright red colour; a mixture from the blood and the constant thumping against the heavy door. It was so solid and preventing her from any way out, it felt more like a giant brick wall to the Belgian woman.
By now, Emma knew it was pointless. There was no way she could get out now. She was locked in and nobody could hear her. What was the point in trying now?
Letting out a tiny groan, the Belgian hung her head in defeat, her hands falling limply to her sides. Her eyes glazed over as the tears fell to the floor, leaving tiny patched of water on the ground below. She felt completely pathetic.
“Please...” she sobbed quietly, her lip trembling uncontrollably. She was all alone now, and she had to face the fact. “Please...”
Her legs shook again, and suddenly the female nation’s knees gave out beneath her. Belgium didn’t even bother trying to fight gravity as she crumpled to the ground with a muffled thud, falling right next to the pistol crossbow she had carelessly left discarded on the floor. She was just so exhausted now, so tired...
Her emotions had taken it all out of her. The blonde felt weak, pathetic. What a disgrace of a nation she was! The pain was mingling with a feeling of shame a a strange numbness that was starting to overcome her body. It was consuming her, leaving her feeling totally vulnerable. It was a strange sensation. Emma Lambert was suddenly overcome with the feeling that she just wanted to curl up and die. It was probably a much better thing than whatever the manor had in store for her anyway. There was just no point any more.
“Come on België! You can’t just give up; you’re a nation!” the little voice in the back of her mind was scolding her again. “Stand up and fight! Don’t just lie there completely defeated! You're better than this!”
Emma just let out a tiny, almost inaudible moan and pulled her knees to her chest, curling into herself.
“What’s the point?” Belgium groaned as she wiped her eyes with the hem of her red coat. “I’m stuck here anyway. There's no way out. And I'm talking to myself again... I'll need to see a psychiatrist after all this.”
If there is an “after this”.
She shuddered at the thought, clenching her teeth tightly to stop herself from letting out another pathetic whimper. Oh, why did it all come down to this? Why couldn’t the nations have just stayed away from here?
“België, listen to me.”
Belgium rolled her eyes at her inner voice.
“Well, seeing as you are me...”
“België, just get a grip! Pick up your crossbow, stand up and stay strong! As I told you before, you’ve been through far worse than this and you survived.”
The Belgian arched her neck and cocked her head back to stare at the crossbow lying inches away from the top of her head. The voice in her mind was right about that; she had been through worse things. Maybe, if she thought about it, she could still stand up and get out. Maybe she could get out of this manor alive. Maybe she could survive.
A tiny smile appeared on her lips as she reached up towards the weapon before her. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle and she pulled the crossbow towards her chest.
“Ja... maybe I shouldn't give in so easily. Just maybe...”
Despite the protests of her shaking legs, ever so slowly, the woman pushed off from the floor with her free hand and pulled herself up to her feet. She winced at the stinging sensation of the splinters in her hand, but gritted her teeth and stood upright. At first, she stumbled a bit, feeling a little dizzy on her feet. It took a moment for the room to stop spinning, but pretty soon she had regained her composure and was holding the weapon out in front of her, ready to attack whatever might be lurking in the shadows.
The Belgian sniffed and quickly wiped away the last few tears that stung her eyes with the back of her hand, keeping her eyes firm and focused. Her olive orbs scanned the area around her quickly. Nothing in sight, but she should remain alert. After all, she still couldn't see fantastically well in the semi-darkness.
Taking a tentative step forward, eyes still darting around for any signs of... something, the female nation swallowed thickly and called out,
"Is anyone here? If so, show yourself!"
There was no way to back down now. The terror that was still causing her stomach to churn was what she was trying to fight back as she edge further and further away from the locked door of the barn. A part of her was screaming "Run and hide! Stop trying to act brave!" Yet the other was saying calmly, "Stand strong, don't back down." The conflicting emotions were hard to manage as they battled away inside her head. However, Belgium knew that right now, the best thing to do was to keep her composure. Do not break down again, because then you are at your most vulnerable. And when you’re vulnerable, you are an easy target.
Emma Lambert swallowed thickly and took a deep breath in, trying to control her heavy breathing and sooth her nerves. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together to form a tight line, making her suddenly look much harder than she usually acted. Don’t show the enemy (if there was an enemy) that you’re scared. They’ll take advantage of that, otherwise.
“Do you hear me?” Belgium suddenly shouted, throwing her arms up in the air and gesticulating wildly. Honestly, she surprised herself with how loud her voice sounded. Already, it seemed and she felt ten times more confident. “Show yourself!”
The blonde woman raised an arched eyebrow when all she was met with was silence. Maybe she was alone? Quite honestly, she would have much rather that was the case. Although, knowing this freaky, messed up place, she highly doubted it was.
The blonde nation gritted her teeth tightly together and took another step forward. She was suddenly feeling a burst of courage. She could face whatever there was, and then she’d get out, find the others and they’d all escape together. Yes, she was not giving up now. Not now, no way.
“Come out and fight me!” Belgium yelled again, her grasp on the crossbow tightening. Her lips formed a tiny smirk as she stood strong, holding her ground. The Kingdom of Belgium was going to stay brave and fight anything! She was not backing down now. “Come out and fight me!!”
Again, another tiny moan echoed through the rotting rafters and Belgium pulled herself up to a sitting position, despite the reluctance and protests of her aching muscles. Tired olive green eyes slowly opened, and Belgium ran a hand through her short blonde locks, gently massaging the back of her head that was still dully aching.
The barn was far too quite. Apart from the nation herself, there were no other signs of life. No movement. Nothing. The only thing that you could possible count as “life” was the few specks of dust Belgium could just make out dancing in front of her face in the gloom. Otherwise, there was nothing. Emma had been expecting to hear maybe the coo of a pigeon stuck in the rafters, or see a spider scurrying down the wall beside her. But there wasn’t anything alive. The cold and lifelessness sent a shiver down her spine, causing the Belgian to instinctively pull her red cloak around her body tighter.
She squinted her olive green eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness. There wasn't much to see in the barn anyway. Piles of old hay scattered around the floor, a few worn and tattered saddles hanging on the far wall. Clearly, this place hadn't been used in many years. Just like the rest of this supposedly "haunted" manor, the barns were coated in dust and old, sticky cobwebs, limply hanging from the rafters above. Yes, it certainly looked like it could be haunted. The thing that was most concerning Belgium, however, was the lack of memory she had of ever coming to this place. She really had no clue how she had ended up in a random, old barn in the first place.
“Wat is er gebeurd?” she murmured to herself, her thoughts still muddled and groggy. For a moment, she sat in the silence, her eyes glazed over and focusing on a far wall as she tried to piece together how she had ended up here. Yet, everything remained a total blur.
The last thing she could remember was searching for her brother inside the manor, making her way through the winding hallways that were covered in shadows and riddled with cobwebs. She had no luck, and just when she was about to give up, a blinding pain in the back of her head consumed her into darkness. When she had woken up, she had found herself alone, lying on a mound of hay with little recollection and no idea about how she had ended up here. The first thing that crossed the Belgian's mind was, this was one messed up, twisted place.
God, what she would have given to be back home right now! She wished she'd never gone to America's stupid party and she wished she had never agreed to tag along in this stupid game of courage, or whatever it was called. Look at the situation they had all ended up in because of it!
All of a sudden, a feeling of panic engulfed the European. She was sitting, alone, in a dark barn that was part of a manor filled with ghosts and monsters... and she didn’t have her trusty pistol crossbow, her weapon, in her hands. At that realisation, the Belgian instantly paled, her pupils dilating as worry began to sweep over her. Had she lost it? If that was the case, Emma Lambert was positive she was in deep trouble. Actually, she was far more than in deep trouble. She was done for.
Almost instantly, she had forgotten about her pounding headache as another thought took over mind, obliterating any other minor concerns she had had before that point. The woman quickly stood up, hurriedly brushing the straw off her skirt before she began frantically scampering around the dark barn, rummaging through the straw and knocking over dust and cobweb coated objects that carelessly littered the stable floor.
“Where is it? Where is it?!” Belgium muttered under her breath, the anxiousness lacing her voice clearly audible and growing with each passing moment. Adrenalin began fiercely pumping through her body, her pulse so high it felt her heart would explode inside her chest at any given moment.
Emma bit down on her bottom lip to fight back the curses that were forming on her tongue. Now was not the time to lose her composure, she tried telling herself. She needed to stay as calm as possible in the situation. Clearly, though, she wasn’t doing a very good job at that.
The woman took a step back from another pile of hay she’d just torn through and clutched onto her head, her breathing heavy and deep.
“Come on Bel, think,” the Belgian hissed as she paced up and down the shadowed barn. “Where could it be? Did you look everywhere properly?”
She paused, mid-step, and creased her brow in deep concentration. She’d gotten so worked up, she realised that she hadn’t even looked for the weapon in the most obvious place. With a frustrated humph, Belgium stormed back over to the pile of straw that she’d woken up only a mere few minutes earlier. It was such a stupid mistake. How could she have been such an idiot?!
Sure enough, when she reached the slightly flattened pile, Belgium caught a glimpse of something, half hidden under the straw, glinting in the dim light. The object lay there, almost saying to her “Aren’t you stupid, getting all worked up like that?” The woman stood for a moment, staring at it with a mixture of frustration and relief. The next thing she knew, she lunged forward and frantically scrambled amongst the straw to pull out the pistol crossbow. Her fingers tightly wrapped round its cold handle as Belgium pulled it out, staring at it as though it was some precious treasure from an ancient era. And to her at this current moment in time, it was. It was the one thing that Belgium had left to cling onto.
Maybe it was pathetic, but Belgium didn’t have anyone else. Her brother, Mexico, Hungary, Norway, Northern Ireland... they were all brief moments of comfort for her between the never ending, aimless walks down empty corridors, alone with nothing but the noises that followed her. The other nations had been there with her for only short periods of time. And in that time, she had been more relaxed. She felt no worries. But then, no sooner had they met, she had lost each and every one again. The one constant thing, the only thing she had with her throughout, was her weapon. It would keep her safe, Emma knew that. Right now, it was a friend to her as well. If she held onto it, it wouldn’t leave her. She’d be safe for just a little bit longer... It was funny; she had to admit; that an inanimate object could mean so much to someone.
Belgium let out a heavy sigh as she held the crossbow tightly to her chest. She was just relieved to have it back again. Yes, she had over reacted, but the thought of losing the object was frightening. It was almost like at this moment in time, it was the last thing she had to cling onto. The last thing she had to protect herself with.
It was at that moment when Belgium realised something for the first time since she'd arrived. Ever since arriving in the manor, she had been on edge. Anything would set her off, it seemed. She was far more nervous than usual. But, the fact was, this wasn’t like Belgium at all. Emma never usually would be this frightened by strange noises or supposedly “haunted” mansions. In fact, she had always considered herself to be quite brave in comparison to some of the other nations. She believed could hold her nerve better than Italy for example (for a moment her mind went to the Italian, and she wondered if he was in the mansion and, if he was, if he was alright). So, why was she suddenly so afraid? This wasn’t like Belgium; not in the slightest.
The blonde woman gritted her teeth slightly as she lowered her weapon. This was getting ridiculous now. Everything was setting her on edge! The manor was messing with her mind.
“Honestly, België,” a little voice inside Belgium’s head scolded her disapprovingly for her behaviour. “You’re a nation; you shouldn’t be scared by a Halloween prank or whatever this is. You’ve gone through far worse than this and survived.”
That was true. She’d never really thought of it that way before. Why should she be scared of this place? She was a nation! Belgium had been through far worse than this. She had been invaded twice by Germany. She’d been under the rule of various other nations. She’d even fought her own brother for independence! And she was still here, still standing tall, proud and strong. In fact, she was a powerful country, no matter how small her size. You have to be pretty powerful to be one of the founding nations of the EU, right?
But even so...
There was still something nagging inside her, making her feel much less strong. Still a little tinge of fear she couldn't put out. It was a rather childish fear, like a fear of the dark (which Belgium had to admit, she was also scared of), but the female nation couldn't help but be afraid now she was alone. It was almost like she felt ten times more vulnerable without the company of anybody. Maybe it was the lack of laughter, or the horrible sensation when all you can hear is your own heartbeat, but all Belgium knew was that she was currently getting scared of something so trivial. But how could one who had been through so much, seen so much hurt and loneliness, be scared just by being alone? Emma had often wondered this much about herself. It was probably the most ridiculous fear any nation had. Yet, there was still something; no matter how childish Belgium thought she was acting by having such a fear, she couldn't help but still feel so afraid. Right now, the dark barn wasn't giving her much comfort.
“At least I didn’t really loose you,” Emma Lambert said with relief to the crossbow in her arms. The nation smiled to herself and sat down on the mound of hay behind her, and continued gabbling away to the inanimate object she was clutching onto for dear life, as though it would slip away if she loosened her grip even just a little bit. “You’re not going to leave me any time soon, toch? I really don't know what I would do in this crazy place if you weren't here with me...”
The woman trailed off, her eyes still glued to the weapon in her hands. Olive orbs widened as she suddenly became conscious of the fact she had just been having a conversation with a pistol crossbow. A wooden, lifeless object! A choked, horrified gasp escaped her throat and she suddenly dropped the weapon. Her hands flew up to her blonde locks and grabbed fistfuls of hair in panic. Bringing her knees up and tucking them under her chin, Belgium began to rock back and forth on the spot, her whole body trembling.
“Ik word gek...” she muttered lowly, her eyes darting around the barn frantically. "Je deviens fou... Ich werde verrückt... I'm going crazy... I'm sitting here talking to a crossbow..." Belgium paused again, biting her lip as she stared at a corner that was shrouded in shadows at the far end of the barn. "And now I'm talking to myself! I need to get a grip and calm down!"
The woman shivered and swallowed thickly as fear began creeping up her spine again. Her mind was racing, trying to work out if this was just some insane dream or reality. What was it again that Noorwegen had said to her earlier?
“You do have a right to be afraid. This place is… more than what it seems. There is more than you can ever imagine even in your nightmares, Belgia…”
Was this mansion really making her loose her own mind? She had never believed in demons and monsters before, but the fear inside her was growing constantly. And the stronger that fear became, the further and further away her sanity seemed. If there really was something here, something worse than their nightmares, could it really turn a girl mad?
A shuffling behind her caused the nation's ears to prick up. Something else was here. It only took a second for her to react. She let out a screech and, in a flash, Belgium grabbed her crossbow. Without even thinking, she span round and fired a bolt into the darkness. A loud thud followed by a tiny whimper filled the air. It didn't take long for the silence to return. All that could be heard was Belgium's heavy breathing as the adrenalin that was pumping through her veins began to dwindle. Her knees shaking, Belgium slowly stood up and cautiously made her way to whatever she'd shot. She found the silver bolt impaling a large rat, no monster or demon in sight.
The blonde let out an exasperated breath and ran a trembling hand through her hair as she desperately tried to suppress her nerves. One thing was for sure; the mansion certainly could turn a girl paranoid. The paranoia had cost her, though. She was now one bolt short, and if something else was there...
The woman didn't think twice as she bent down and pulled the bolt out of the animal's corpse. Now was not the time to act squeamish over a dead creature. Her main priority now was to get out of here as quickly as she could and find the others. Then, they could all escape together. They could all go home and forget this ever happened. Yes, that was the best plan. Get out! Get out now!
Suddenly, her feet were controlling her body, and she was running back in the direction she'd came. Her feet pounded on the dirty floor with a constant rhythm that mirrored the furious beating of her heart. Just up ahead of her, she could see it now drawing closer and closer. A large, old wooden door. The way out! Belgium picked up speed, causing the crossbow at her side to start thudding against her hip. But she didn’t care. She was so close... Almost there...
The blonde didn’t even bother stopping, and she crashed into the door that was keeping her inside the barn. Ignoring the pain down her side, she grabbed and pulled at the handle. Nothing happened. Again, she yanked and the handles, but the door didn’t budge. Of course the door was locked. She shouldn't have been surprised, quite honestly. Everything was locked, leaving Belgium trapped. Alone. In the dark.
Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful
Now was not the time for sarcasm, though. Belgium had to get out! She couldn’t stand being stuck in this godforsaken place anymore! Slowly, but surely, it was toying with her mind. If she couldn’t get out, god knows what would happen to her. Belgium didn’t even want to think about what the consequences of that could be.
“Somebody help!” Belgium screamed as the panic welled up inside her again and she suddenly dropped her crossbow and began pounding her fists against the door, praying that there was someone outside who could hear her. “I’m locked in! Please, let me out!”
Please let somebody be there. Please let somebody let me out. Please!
Of course, she wasn’t completely surprised again when nobody answered. Nobody was there. Luck really wasn’t on her side today, it seemed. Still, that didn’t stop her. She continued pounding on the door, harder this time. Her cries grew louder and louder, each word sounding far more desperate than the last.
“Please! Please get me out of here! Let me out!”
Now she could feel tears prickling the back of her olive eyes, the salty solution irritating her eyes and blurring her vision. Worry and anxiety was taking over her thought, muddling any rational thinking she might have had before. Her hands were burning in pain as tiny splinters of wood from the door began embedding themselves in her palms, causing tiny crimson drops of blood to start forming on her pale skin. Beads of sweat were running down her neck as the female nation’s body began trembling stronger than before. Her legs were feeling so weak; she could hardly hold herself up anymore. But still, she continued screaming.
“Help! Help me!” her voice was growing hoarse, making the words scratchy as they echoed in the dead air. The tears were falling from her bloodshot eyes and tumbling down her cheeks now, leaving streams of red staining her face. "Can anybody hear me?!"
Her whole body was burning in agony, her knees so weak it felt like they would give way at any second. Belgium’s hands were now turning a bright red colour; a mixture from the blood and the constant thumping against the heavy door. It was so solid and preventing her from any way out, it felt more like a giant brick wall to the Belgian woman.
By now, Emma knew it was pointless. There was no way she could get out now. She was locked in and nobody could hear her. What was the point in trying now?
Letting out a tiny groan, the Belgian hung her head in defeat, her hands falling limply to her sides. Her eyes glazed over as the tears fell to the floor, leaving tiny patched of water on the ground below. She felt completely pathetic.
“Please...” she sobbed quietly, her lip trembling uncontrollably. She was all alone now, and she had to face the fact. “Please...”
Her legs shook again, and suddenly the female nation’s knees gave out beneath her. Belgium didn’t even bother trying to fight gravity as she crumpled to the ground with a muffled thud, falling right next to the pistol crossbow she had carelessly left discarded on the floor. She was just so exhausted now, so tired...
Her emotions had taken it all out of her. The blonde felt weak, pathetic. What a disgrace of a nation she was! The pain was mingling with a feeling of shame a a strange numbness that was starting to overcome her body. It was consuming her, leaving her feeling totally vulnerable. It was a strange sensation. Emma Lambert was suddenly overcome with the feeling that she just wanted to curl up and die. It was probably a much better thing than whatever the manor had in store for her anyway. There was just no point any more.
“Come on België! You can’t just give up; you’re a nation!” the little voice in the back of her mind was scolding her again. “Stand up and fight! Don’t just lie there completely defeated! You're better than this!”
Emma just let out a tiny, almost inaudible moan and pulled her knees to her chest, curling into herself.
“What’s the point?” Belgium groaned as she wiped her eyes with the hem of her red coat. “I’m stuck here anyway. There's no way out. And I'm talking to myself again... I'll need to see a psychiatrist after all this.”
If there is an “after this”.
She shuddered at the thought, clenching her teeth tightly to stop herself from letting out another pathetic whimper. Oh, why did it all come down to this? Why couldn’t the nations have just stayed away from here?
“België, listen to me.”
Belgium rolled her eyes at her inner voice.
“Well, seeing as you are me...”
“België, just get a grip! Pick up your crossbow, stand up and stay strong! As I told you before, you’ve been through far worse than this and you survived.”
The Belgian arched her neck and cocked her head back to stare at the crossbow lying inches away from the top of her head. The voice in her mind was right about that; she had been through worse things. Maybe, if she thought about it, she could still stand up and get out. Maybe she could get out of this manor alive. Maybe she could survive.
A tiny smile appeared on her lips as she reached up towards the weapon before her. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle and she pulled the crossbow towards her chest.
“Ja... maybe I shouldn't give in so easily. Just maybe...”
Despite the protests of her shaking legs, ever so slowly, the woman pushed off from the floor with her free hand and pulled herself up to her feet. She winced at the stinging sensation of the splinters in her hand, but gritted her teeth and stood upright. At first, she stumbled a bit, feeling a little dizzy on her feet. It took a moment for the room to stop spinning, but pretty soon she had regained her composure and was holding the weapon out in front of her, ready to attack whatever might be lurking in the shadows.
The Belgian sniffed and quickly wiped away the last few tears that stung her eyes with the back of her hand, keeping her eyes firm and focused. Her olive orbs scanned the area around her quickly. Nothing in sight, but she should remain alert. After all, she still couldn't see fantastically well in the semi-darkness.
Taking a tentative step forward, eyes still darting around for any signs of... something, the female nation swallowed thickly and called out,
"Is anyone here? If so, show yourself!"
There was no way to back down now. The terror that was still causing her stomach to churn was what she was trying to fight back as she edge further and further away from the locked door of the barn. A part of her was screaming "Run and hide! Stop trying to act brave!" Yet the other was saying calmly, "Stand strong, don't back down." The conflicting emotions were hard to manage as they battled away inside her head. However, Belgium knew that right now, the best thing to do was to keep her composure. Do not break down again, because then you are at your most vulnerable. And when you’re vulnerable, you are an easy target.
Emma Lambert swallowed thickly and took a deep breath in, trying to control her heavy breathing and sooth her nerves. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together to form a tight line, making her suddenly look much harder than she usually acted. Don’t show the enemy (if there was an enemy) that you’re scared. They’ll take advantage of that, otherwise.
“Do you hear me?” Belgium suddenly shouted, throwing her arms up in the air and gesticulating wildly. Honestly, she surprised herself with how loud her voice sounded. Already, it seemed and she felt ten times more confident. “Show yourself!”
The blonde woman raised an arched eyebrow when all she was met with was silence. Maybe she was alone? Quite honestly, she would have much rather that was the case. Although, knowing this freaky, messed up place, she highly doubted it was.
The blonde nation gritted her teeth tightly together and took another step forward. She was suddenly feeling a burst of courage. She could face whatever there was, and then she’d get out, find the others and they’d all escape together. Yes, she was not giving up now. Not now, no way.
“Come out and fight me!” Belgium yelled again, her grasp on the crossbow tightening. Her lips formed a tiny smirk as she stood strong, holding her ground. The Kingdom of Belgium was going to stay brave and fight anything! She was not backing down now. “Come out and fight me!!”