Power gets to the mind

"Fredka.. it's me.. Ivan."

Alfred.F.Jones, or otherwise known as the great US of A, America, was laying on a bed. All wrapped in bandages and covered in scars and wounds. He wasn't sure what happened, having had a massive head injury that led him to forget most of which happened before. Not too far down his memory but most of the recent events anyways. He slowly shifted on the bed, a hiss escaping his lips. His position now having him laying on his left hand, which had a bandaged wound on it.

With a heavy sigh and huff he laid back on his back, then began to open his eyes. It was.... strange... everything looked so... hazy, like he was.. blind. He looked up at the roof for a a bit, waiting till his vision would adjust but it didn't. He was puzzled. Why wasn't his sight going to normal? He sighed, slowly starting to sit up, looking around. Nothing. Everything looked so blurry.

Unsure of what was wrong with his eyes, he was able to make out a nightstand next to the bed he was on. He placed his hand on the stand, moving it around a little before he could feel glass touch his fingers. His glasses, or as he sometimes called them, Texas. A smile appeared on his face as he picked them up, adjusting them onto his face. He looked around again, his vision seeming better now with them on. It was, once again, strange. He never needed his glasses to actually see so.... why are they working like actual glasses now? He wasn't sure.Alfred suddenly gasped, noticing the crack on one of lenses. He was still able to see from it, but it was a bad crack. "Texas... no.. no... it's- it's hurt! badly! This isn't good.." he spoke to himself trying to think a little.

He slowly begun to get up. His body aching in the slight pain he felt. His movements felt a little shaky, though after a few moments he was able to have a steady balance on his feet. After trying to get used to his new vision, having figured out he was now blind, he proceeded to make his way out of the room. He took breaks to lean against things at times from the sudden stinging pains he got in his head, realizing his head had a bandage wrapped around.Alfred wasn't sure where he was right now, but he had to at least find out. With his conditions, he should be in bed resting, but laying in a rickety bed was going to get him nowhere. He groaned and moaned in pain, making his way slowly downstairs. His finger tips pressed against the wall, sliding along as he walked.

The blonde American eventually made it down the staircase, which to him took forever. His legs were already aching, but he couldn't let that stop him. He glanced around at anything that look familiar, even in the slightest, even with his blurry vision.It seemed odd, but it looked as if he was in someone's house. He couldn't exactly tell, but from what he could make out, there was a room just a little to the left of the staircase which looked as if it consisted of two couches, a coffee table, a TV stuck to the wall and some strange blob-like thing on one of the couches. Alfred was going nowhere near that just yet as it seemed to have been moving.

He proceeded walking, scanning the place. He worked out that to the right, was a dining room which just had a black wooden table with a few chairs, and past that was the kitchen. It was really odd. Of all places, he didn't expect to be in a house. He wasn't sure why he didn't expect it, but it just seemed strange to him. "Gee.. who's house am I in..? And.. why am I here?? Is there something I don't remember..? Was I kidnapped? And why the hell am I so messed up?!" He questioned to himself, scratching his neck which surprising was one of the only places where it didn't hurt as much to touch as the others.

Alfred found it wise not to try and get to the kitchen, with his condition, he didn't think he could make it back out without anymore injuries. But he was hungry, coming to the realization of it. The American groaned once more, finding it hard to keep standing. He slouched, ignoring the small stinging pain he felt in his back, making his way to where he had seen the couches before...

-BANG!-

A loud sound of a door being banged open was heard, startling the young American. A cold, icy gust of wind causing him to fall back and shiver. His wounds were killing him with pain, but before he could get up, he could hear heavy footsteps entering the house, the door suddenly shutting with another bang.

Alfred squirmed, noticing a large figure at the door. His heart started to race in fear as the figure groaned and growled. He couldn't tell who or what it was, but didn't want to stick around and know. Just as he was getting up, his movements seemed to freeze once the tall figure caught eye of him. Something in the blonde just stopped, too scared.

As the figure started to approach the wounded American, Alfred started scooting back. He felt his chest pounding, and his head was hurting again. He was terrified. So terrified that he forgot all about the pain from all of his wounds, closing into a wall. The figure didn't stop, seeming as if it was walking to him rather slowly, but it just seemed scarier to him.

He tried to convince himself that he was a hero! That he was meant to be brave! Instead, he flinched once his back touched a the wall behind him. Alfred curled up into himself slightly, shaking in fear. He shut his eyes when the figure knelled down to his level and got up close to him. He didn't want to see what could possibly be wanting to hurt him right now.

He felt something touch his right cheek. It felt like skin. Cold, icy yet soft skin. It made the blonde shiver and tingle. He was waiting for something bad to happen but.. to his surprise all he could feel was something moving back and forth on his cheek bone. Ever so shakily and slowly, the boy opened his hazy blue eyes and looked up at the figure. It was more clearer to be a person, a man from what he could see. The thing about this man that stood out the most was his violet eyes. They looked familiar but, he couldn't quite tell at the moment.

"Fredka.. don't be scared. It's me, Ivan."