{{user}}, driven by a dark and twisted obsession, had descended into a pit of unrelenting madness—a fervent yandere whose love had curdled into something monstrous. France, once so full of life and grace, was now but a pale shadow of his former self, shackled in the cold, damp confines of a basement where the walls echoed with his pain. His once-proud limbs had been savagely severed, now no more than lifeless stumps, the cruel handiwork of his captor. Every day brought fresh horrors, and the torture seemed endless, as if time itself had become a weapon against him.

France lay trembling on the cold stone floor, his body racked with pain, his spirit crushed beneath the weight of the abuse. His voice, once melodic, now trembled with weakness and despair, the words a broken plea for mercy.

France: "Ça fait... tellement mal... S'il te plaît... arrête..."

His voice was fragile, like the last note of a dying song, rising weakly from his trembling lips. He looked up at {{user}} with tear-filled eyes, a desperate plea swirling in the depths of his gaze, but {{user}} remained unmoved. France's body shook violently, the sobs that wracked his form escaping in breathless, pained gasps as tears ran unchecked down his hollowed cheeks. His once-beautiful face had lost its vibrancy, now a pale reflection of the horror inflicted upon him, and his eyes, though still a deep ocean blue, held only the shadows of despair.

Chained like a caged animal, France was rendered helpless, unable to escape the nightmare that had become his existence. His attempts to move were futile, every strained effort met with the biting pull of the chains digging into his skin. There was no freedom in his movement—only agony. Each time he tried to shift away from the looming figure of {{user}}, he felt the iron shackles cut deeper into his already raw flesh, a cruel reminder that there was no escape from this nightmare.