A quivering hand gripped the silvery gun, sweat running down his forehead. He could hear his heart pulsing in his ears, his shaky breathe, the clock, tic, tock, tic, tock. Everything was normal in the house, nothing out of line, except for him. Everyone would know what happened, wouldn't expect anything else.
No one saw it coming; he could already hear what they would say. He was such a happy person, we would have never expected- or He did seem a little out of wack, but we would have never guessed!
He laughed as he heard their voices in his head. No, they wouldn't have guessed. He didn't even guess. He felt it coming, yeah. The way he slowly started to hate life and people more and more, but the more he hated, the nicer and livelier he was around them. He couldn't stop it. And now, like a coke bottle that you shake and shake, he had taken of the lid, and he was ready to burst.
He focused on his heartbeat again, anything to keep him from focusing on what he was about to do. He was originally going to slit is wrists, but he figured it would take too long. If he overdosed, and someone found him, he could be saved, and that would suck. If he hung himself, then it would hurt like hell. The gun was the best way to go.
He felt the trigger, running his finger over it, which was sweaty and clammy now. He shivered, and counted to three.
One- he squeezed it a little more.
Two- almost there, he could only pull it down now.
Three- he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
White-hot pain erupted from his shoulder.
"F-FUCKING HELL!" He screamed, as he realized his hand had slipped, causing him to shoot himself in the shoulder instead. He fell to the ground, gripping his shoulder in his hand. He felt the crimson liquid flowing, the rush not so sweet at the moment. He squinted as the pain became terrible, and then he felt numb, it all stopping at one time. Guess I'll bleed out after all, he thought, laughing a little. He heard frantic banging on his door, someone yelling through it. They had heard the shots. He cursed inwardly. Someone unlocked the door, probably his brother, who had the key to his small apartment.
The younger man almost hurled at the sight. He had always hated blood, strange, for someone who loved to make people shed it. He felt someone pick him up, pain from his shoulder getting worse. He gasped for air, screaming a little.
"Prussia! Prussia! Can you hear me?" Germany screamed, tears pricking in his eyes.
"Kesesese…you sound like someone's gonna die…" Prussia laughed, falling asleep.