"Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you." - Jean-Paul Sartre

The rain wasn't far off. Spain could tell as he walked through the darkened alleyway that he had twenty minutes tops to get back to his hotel room before the downpour would start and drench him. He really didn't want to develop a cold, not with the next seven days coming up: the world meeting in Australia. Oh how Spain disliked these meetings. No one ever got any work done and all they did was squabble. The only one who ever seemed to be interested in the meeting anyway was Germany. But Germany took everything, including himself, too seriously.

Spain had just been out drinking with Prussia and France, a meeting tradition if you will. Before every meeting, the three would go out and drink, not enough that they would be nursing hangovers the next day, but just enough to get tipsy. Due to the weather though, their usual drinking match had been cut short, leaving Spain with nothing more than a pleasant buzzing and a slight stumble in his steps. The warmth he felt, residue from the last drink, reached all the way from his fingers to his velcro - why not be a bit modern - clad feet.

Lovi – his lovely, lovely Lovi – would be annoyed when he got back of course. He wasn't meant to be back for another 3 hours, and Lovi enjoyed his alone time. Whatever he did during that time, Spain didn't know. All he knew was that Lovi would enjoy this part of the week long meetings the most. This was a fact. As much as it disappointed Spain that Lovi would rather be without him, he knew that it couldn't be helped, if he forced himself on Romano, the likelihood of said nation blowing a fuse on his extremely short temper would tenfold. An angry Lovi was a dangerous Lovi.

Maybe if he'd spend less time wondering on how dangerous Lovi was, he'd have noticed a much more pressing danger that would shatter Spain beyond recognition.

The shadow's seemed to move around the slightly tipsy nation, who didn't seem to understand what was going. A man, mid 40's, shaven head and sharp grey eyes, walked out from a side alley and leaned heavily on the wall opposite to Spain. Looking him up and down, Spain thought he saw a spark in the man's eyes. And it wasn't the good kind. Stumbling backwards away from this man, Spain hit the wall, and before he knew it, the man was uncomfortably close. Now normally, Spain wouldn't be worried by this, he may even be amused. But because of the alcohol still circulating his system, his footing was unstable and he had a funny feeling that his man was quite strong, stronger than Spain in his current state.

"Going somewhere, sweetheart?" Spain couldn't answer, his throat had closed up. Fear overriding his primary senses, he tried to make a bolt for it. A fist caught Spain quickly, hitting him squarely in the stomach. Coughing up, Spain was forced back into his previous placement. Glancing up, the man now wore a snarl on his face rather than the calm facade that he had before. Narrowing his eyes, the grey darkened, leaving the eyes nearly black.

"You fucking whore, you're not going anywhere until I'm done with you."

Spain did not squeak. It wasn't in his nature to squeak at threats like that. He merely glared up at the man - why did he have to be shorter than him? - and moved his hands up to his chest, ready to shove this stranger away at the first chance. Naturally, it didn't quite work out for the Spaniard. He soon found his hands bound above his head with a thick piece of rope. The rope was rough, which didn't do wonders for the wrists that it was tied around, already a harsh red. Gasping slightly from the pain in his wrist, Spain tried to wriggle away from the man, who had one hand on the bound wrists. This had no effect on the predator, or so Spain though until he felt a weight on his thighs. Gulping, he slowly looked down, face red when he realized what it was. Oh god. He was going to be raped. A large hand grasped his hair tightly and shoved his head back before moving to his chin and forcing him to open his mouth.

A foreign object was forced into his mouth and moved along the nations gums, the hand never moving, rendering Spain unable to do anything, nothing, not even bite down on the tongue. Squirming against the other, trying to get free, proved to be ineffective when all that happened was a moan vibrated in Spain's mouth from the other man, the fiction causing him the get harder, and with a terrified though, Spain couldn't help but notice his own body responding in a similar way as his jeans became tighter. No, please no, I don't want this. Anything but this.

"You enjoying yourself down there slut?" The smirk could be heard in the man's voice, licking around Spain's vision as his hand moved down to grasp at the hardening length of the Spanish man. Shaking his head almost desperately, a whimper emerged from bruised lips. "I-I'm not a slut." The words slipped out like a whisper, a ripple on water. Hardly there. The man paused his actions and looked at Spain's face before a grin split his face in two.

"We'll see about that."

Breaths came out of the panicking nation sharper and quicker, he was unhealthily close to hyper-ventilating. His legs and voice pulled into action as a hand closed around his zipper and started to put it down. He screamed and kicked as if it was the only thing left, which for him, it was. A hand hastily covered his mouth; only allowing murmurs though and a quick knee to the crouch area stopped his kicking as pain spread though his body as he coughed up. The hand was soon once again at the zipper to his jeans as it pulled it all the way down. Spain tensed up and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt skin touch around the waistline and slowly pulled the jeans down. He couldn't get out, it was going to happen. God please, whatever I've done, I'm sorry, please, please just make this stop. There was no answer to the distraught Spaniard. Legs made to wrap around the other's waist - when did he take his trousers off? - , Spain felt a pressure at his arsehole before -

"AAHHHH!" God it hurt, it hurt so much! The tight opening was forced open and made to stretch far more than it was meant to. Lack of preparation was not boding well for the tanned nation, his muscles screamed in protest. No, no, no, this is not happening, this can't be happening… Spain was faintly aware of the moans coming from the man and cries of 'so tight' and the blood trailing down his own legs. His arms where sore above his head and an angry red. He gave up. There was no point anymore. He felt dirty, and used, and utterly worthless. The deep cuts forming on his back due to the rough wall where all but lost on the broken man. All he could hope for now was for it to end soon. It felt like an eternity. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the man came inside Spain and pulled out. Letting himself slid to the floor, Spain just stared at the wall on the other side of the alleyway. It was over. Or so he though, not thirty seconds went by before the man griped his hair once again and pulled him up, causing the nation to groan as a wave of pain hit his lower back and his stomach churned uncomfortably.

"I'm not done yet slut." Spain's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the knife. He… he wasn't going to… was he? The man noticed the nation glancing down at his member and grinned before shaking his head. Going down until he was level with Spain's stomach, he paused and tilted his head, as if in thought of how to do whatever he was doing. What was he doing? Spain soon found out as the knife pierced the skin just below the tummy button and kept on carving. Spain didn't really even care anymore. It didn't matter if scars marred him now, he was already ugly. Who could ever look at him again without disgust? He was just a worthless slut who didn't deserve to be happy. When the man had finished whatever he was doing, he stood up, untied his arms, and left, leaving Spain to lie on the floor.

Spain wasn't sure how long he was there for. All he was aware off was the starting of the rain and how much his back hurt. He was going to be limping for weeks… how was be going to hide this from Lovi? From everyone else. They couldn't know. Ever. Spain didn't think he could bare being… being looked at with the disgust he knew would come should be tell anyone. Slowly, but surely, he got up, pulled his jeans back up and made his way back to the hotel.

He didn't notice the blood trail he left behind him.

To say that Romano was pissed would an understatement. The tomato bastard was meant to be back half an hour ago. France had called him up to tell him that Spain would be back early, somehow knowing that Spain would forget to phone Romano himself to tell him so. That in its self had annoyed the personification of South Italy. He was hoping for some time alone before the meeting started as Feli and Spain would be hanging onto him as soon as it did start, leaving him feeling crowded.

So not only did he have his alone time cut into, but he had to go wait for the bastard to get back to make sure he was safe - his sense of self was always damaged when he's been drinking - and he was late! The nerve of the man! I swear, the moment he comes through that door, he's in for a head-butt.

His head shot up from the magazine - 'Good Food', aka, English food. Ugh - when a door opened to revel the Spanish man. He looks like shit. Obviously the rain wasn't enough to stop his drinking habits. Looked like he's been in a fight as well, hair stuck up all over the place, the limp. Stupid bastard. Making me wait just because he wanted to impress a girl most likely. Romano couldn't help but think the angry thoughts, his mood getting even worse.

"L-lovi? Wh-hat are you-u still doing u-up?" The Italian narrowed his eyes and glared at the other. He was acting ashamed, eyes on the ground and sweeping around, hands fidgeting in his pockets. Good, he though, the bastard deserved it, especially if he got beaten in a fight as his body language suggested.

"I was waiting for you tomato bastard. France called me to tell me you would be back earlier." Not that he really was. Romano just wanted to punch the man for making him stay up for him as Spain back away from the fuming Italian. Yea, you better be scared. Romano really was pissed beyond hell.

"Just fuck off and go to bed." Not bothering to watch if the other was following, Romano turned his back to the Spaniard and headed to bed.

When Spain finally got to his room - thankfully, he hadn't run into anyone else on the way up - the first thing he did was take a bath. Running the water till it was lukewarm - he didn't want to burn himself on top of everything - and striping off. Momentarily, he was curious as to what the man has done to his stomach, just what had been carved into him? His curiosity soon disappeared when he realised that is wouldn't be pretty by any man's standard, and he wanted his bath before he was too tired.

Wincing as he lifted his legs over the side of the bath and slipping down into the water, Spain let out a hiss of pain. It hurt more to sit down than it did to walk, that could be said for certain. Slowly, he began to wash himself of the grime that had collected on his body, being careful of the cuts along his back. Somehow, he avoided looking at his stomach, not really wanting to see. He got the feeling he wouldn't like it. The last place to wash was his anus. A white substance had already started to mix into the bath water, which was pink from the blood of the exact same place. Carefully, he reached down with the flannel and started to rub slightly at the opening, forcing more of the white stuff to leak out. Out, out, it has to come out, I don't want it there! Somehow, he managed to get most of the stuff out, but some remained, and probably wouldn't come out on its own for quite some time, unless… unless he used his fingers, but he really didn't want to do that. One unwanted object was enough for the poor man in one night.

Lifting himself back out of the bath tub, Spain wrapped a towel around his head, stuck on a t-shirt and pant, walked back into the room with the bed, and promptly fell asleep.

The next morning was no more pleasant for Spain, the first thing him feeling was an ache along his back. Sitting put to quickly had Spain heaving in pain for a couple of minutes before he finally managed to stop himself being sick all over the bed sheets. Not that it really matters what I look or smell like… still, I don't want to cause a bother for the staff. As soon as he felt he was ready, and a quick glance at the clock, he pushed onto his feet and padded across the room, his limp not quite as obvious as the previous night. If he was careful, he could hide it. Since he was late getting up, he didn't really have time for breakfast, not that he was very hungry anyway, so he just tossed on some cloths - new, clean cloths. The one's from the night before lay forgotten on the floor at the end of the bed - and walked down to the meeting room. He was a little early, but he was sure that Germany and Italy would already be there.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself - I need to act normal, I need to act normal - Spain opened one of the double doors and stepped in. True to his thoughts, Germany and Italy were already there. However, who he was not expecting was Prussia. Due to his status as an ex-nation, it was rare that Prussia was allowed in the meetings. Even if he was still a nation, the meetings would be more… interesting. Every time Prussia was in a meeting, something HAD to happen, such as last time when he somehow managed to get pink paint all over the room - much to the delight of Poland. Now, Prussia being here could either work very well for Spain, or it could go very, very wrong. Because of his nature, Prussia tended to bring attention to himself, and that was always trouble. But it would mean that no one would be paying any attention to him. However, if he was to somehow get involved with Prussia's antics… he had no idea what would happen.

"Kesesese. Hey Spain, look, the awesome me is here!" Ignoring the annoyed look from Germany, Prussia strode over to Spain and basically jumped on him. Spain was rather surprised when he winced. He shouldn't be winching, it was only Prussia. Yet somehow, he couldn't help but be a little afraid of the albino. If Prussia noticed though, he chose to ignore it. Germany however, did notice, and raised an eyebrow at him. Italy remained oblivious as always. Gulping, Spain detected Prussia from his middle - it still hurt from the cuts - and tried to smile at Prussia. This seemingly put Germany's suspicions at rest and Prussia just grinned right back before moving back to his seat to wait for the meeting to start while talking to Italy. Spain was soon seated in his own seat, opposite of where France would be sitting and next to where Lovi would be sitting. Twenty minute later, the meeting started. And naturally, it fell into chaos within the first five minutes.

While England and America where arguing about one of America's many idea's that involved hero's, Prussia winked at France and Spain and slipped - unnoticed by Germany - under the table. Spain observed France smirk slightly before feeling a tap on his knee, looked down to find the Prussian grinning back up at him. Tilting his head as a question, Spain blinked and moved ever so slightly away from the other, causing him to frown and crawl away. Just what is he planning? God, please don't let it be anything involving me… Spain let his head fall to the table once Prussia had moved away. He was tired; he didn't get much sleep that night and as a result, was knackered now. Not that he would be able to fall asleep here with so many people around.

His short sort-of nap was soon interrupted when Prussia's plan started to happen. The first victim of the ex-nation was Japan - heaven's knows why - when England's rant got stopped with Japan jumping up and looked over at China, who received what was quite possible the most polite glare Spain had ever seen.

"I would appreciate it if you would not do that China-san." The Chinese nation just blinked in surprise before a scowl crossed his features. "And what would THAT be aru?" Then, in a situation very much like what Japan did, China jumped up and started to glare at… him. Spain. Wait? What was going on? What had Prussia done? "You. What the hell are you doing aru?" What happened? Spain didn't understand, and it was clearly shown on his face that he didn't know what was going on. China was about to open his mouth again when Spain felt something on his legs. Eyes widening slightly as he looked down. He wasn't what it was, but it was crawling up his leg towards his crouch, before it finally stopped there. Spain could help but start panicking. No. No no no no no. Not again, I don't want that again. I don't want to be that sort of person. Please don't make me do that again.

"Going somewhere, sweetheart?"

"You fucking whore, you're not going anywhere until I'm done with you."

"You enjoying yourself down there slut?"

"We'll see about that."

"I'm not done yet slut."

I'm not a whore. I'm not a slut. Right? But surely… if that had happened… what if that did make him a whore? Did having another man, a stranger, fuck him make him a slut…?

Other nations quickly picked up on his panicking state and looked a bit shocked. It was clear that whatever had happened to Japan and China was happening to Spain, but why was he acting differently? Why wasn't he having a go at someone? Why did he look so scared?

Spain's body froze up as it began to move in a rocking motion and started to breath heavily. Hands grabbed at the table and pushed so he wouldn't be near the object anymore. He couldn't help himself; he curled up into a ball and started shaking, little gasps and groans slipping past his lips and into the tense air that had built up around the room. Murmurs started to be passed along the nations, many asking what was happening, others excited at this new development in the Spanish man.

"Hey Dude, are you alright?" America's question sent shock wave though him as he slowly looked up from his knees and saw that pretty much every eye in the room was on him. Oh shit. Did they know? Could they sense it? No, He didn't want to seen as a whore. It would hurt too much.

"I-I need… I don't want…" Spain bolted up and practically flung himself out of the room. Not sure where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away.

Romano had no idea as to what was going on as he watched Spain flee from the room, not quite sure what just happened. One minute he was sitting there, quite happily –well, maybe not happily, this is a meeting after all, and he did look quite tired… - dozing, not really paying attention, like Spain does, the next, looking scared shitless and very nearly looking like he could breakdown.

Naturally, he was worried. Not that he would ever admit to that.

"Well… I better go see what's wrong with the bastard." Resigning himself to following Spain, Romano was just about to leave the room when France piped up "Maybe I should come with you oui? Who knows where our Toni has gotten too." Nodding in agreement, Romano took the upper floors while France took the lower ones. It didn't take Romano long to find the scared nation, three floors up from the meeting, hiding in one of the bathrooms, shaking like a leaf, desperately trying to hold back tears.

Romano blinked in surprise, never had he seen Spain look… so broken, so small. It briefly made Romano wonder if he had looked like that as a child when he was sad, or distressed. But what could Spain be distressed about? And Spain was never sad, he just couldn't be. Which made Romano wonder just what else could cause the man to fold in like this? Pain? The injuries from last night couldn't be that bad right? Unless… they weren't just physical. Just what had happened last night? Spain couldn't have become that attached to a girl in just one night could he? Romano lowered himself to Spain's level and slowly crawled towards the shaking nation who had yet to realize that he was there. Placing a hand on one of Spain's legs caused the nation to jerk up and back away from him, staring at him with wide, scared eyes and with the beginnings of tears held within them, none had fallen - yet.

"Spain… what's wrong? What happened?" Spain simply shook his head and averted his eyes to the ground, preferring to not look him in the eye. Anger was soon forgotten at Spain's reluctance to speak when he started shaking again and muffled moans leaked though his hand which he had put over his mouth. He wasn't going to be sick was he? "Spain." Said with a stern voice that could rivals Germany's caused Spain to look back up and move closer to Romano. Romano took the hint, sat beside Spain, and gathered him into his arms until the shaking stopped a little. Stroking the curly locks softly, Romano asked again "Spain, what happened?" Breathe still shaky and voice weak, Spain answered "Promise you won't think any differently of me." Nodding his head once, Romano looked down at the nation on his chest and waited.

"I…" the tears finally started to come. One by one, they made tracks down Spain's cheeks.

"I was raped."

Ahhhh, it feels good to have this out. Been working on it for 3 days straight!

It's shitty. I don't like it :( But it will have to do.

So the idea for this came, weirdly enough, from HetaOni, well that and 'Behind the Mask' by Kimanda.

Link: s/6333240/1/Behind-the-Mask

Go and read if you have time, it's really good.

Though I'm not sure why this came from that :\ There only a little related and it's not obvious why until later in the story…

I SHALL UPDATE! EVEN IF THIS IS HATED! I SHALL DO IT!

God, putting this up has made me nervous.

This may or may not end up being a RomaSpa. I can't really say for certain at this point.