He stared with wide unseeing eyes blinded by smoke and red. It was all stained. It was soiled. It reached deep, and from that sin stemmed the depths of hell before his very hazy eyes. An arm splayed across the once golden-brown rug at a strange angle. It was wrong. It all was wrong. Arms don't bend that way. Flesh isn't supposed to smell like that. Flesh is not black with white spots protruding from odd angles. Arms were supposed to be attached to shoulders.

Heads don't dangle, severed from the body with strings of muscle and tissue still attached. Eyes are not meant to be scared, wide blank white ball, in condemning morose. Mouths, especially the jaw, are not torn off, leaving an open chasm, a single top row of bloody teeth remaining. The nose cartilage shouldn't crack like that, the sound ringing out in pain. They aren't supposed to be smashed in like that either.

Limbs aren't meant to be severed like this. Bones aren't supposed to be fractured, shattered, and cracked into pieces. People weren't made to lose that much blood. Nothing was supposed to suffer. Bodies were meant to be whole with a soul at the center and a heart in the chest.

Screams weren't meant to be so petrifying. Silence was not supposed to be this loud. Tears are not meant to blind nor leak uncontrollably in fear. The heart was not made to hurt or be confused like this. The brain was supposed to keep everything in check. It wasn't working. It was frozen, staring at the limbs and the gore.

Hesitating laughter resounded faintly. No one would want to believe this, this was a movie, a set up. Where's the Punk'd crew? The joke wasn't funny anymore. It never was in the first place. Hurry up and stop the camera. This wasn't funny. What type of sick joke was this? Who set this up? God? The neighbors?

Why wasn't anyone coming out? This was too surreal. That stain would never come out of the carpet. Those organs looked realistic. This had to be fake. No one should have burned. Realization slowly settled in, which resulted in a numbing effect. Tears aren't meant to blind, but that hardly matters now does it?

They were really dead.

No amount of fake blood and props could look this real. Eyes rarely lied. Yet, bodies don't suddenly…fall apart. Yet, there was no one else in that house, no wire, and no sniper. Would it happen again? To him? How could one be sure?

Laughter wasn't meant to sound so hollow, yet full of spite. It filled the empty space, wrapping arms around him in mock comfort.

Good. Evening.

You won't believe me. You really, really won't. I have a hard time believing it myself, but it's true. I swear. I swear it is! I'm not insane! I'm not insane. Not insane. Not insane. Not mad. Not mad. Get away from me you bastards! I'm not mad! I don't belong in a ward. No mental ward. Do you know what their food tastes like? Shit! No mental ward! I'm not going to fucking eat jello cups all day with a fucking spork! I hate those damn things! They need to choose what they are: fork or spoon. Whoever the bastard was that made them should be tortured slowly and have a spork shoved down his fat throat! No one likes sporks! No mental ward!

Not insane. Not insane. Not insane. Not insane. Not insane!Not Insane! NOT INSANE.

Shut up. shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

NOT INSANE! NOT INSANE INSANEINSANEINSANE!

Shut up! It wasn't my fault. Not my fault. Not my fault. Not my fault. Not my fault. Who told? Who told? Was it the worker? The postman? The teacher? Who told? They never cared, bastards all of them. They should die. They should die.

Shut up! Shut up! Not my fault! I didn't do it. No. No. No. Not me! Not me! NOT ME! They won't be coming back like the rest. They're in heaven…Or hell…

Not my fault. Not my fault. Not my fault. Right?

I'm not insane! I'm not insane! I'm not fucking insane! Get the fuck away from me you bastards! I'm not insane!

…

Not my fault. Not my fault. Not my fault! I didn't do it, right? I didn't! I didn't want to hurt them. I didn't! I swear! You don't believe me? You don't believe me? You. Don't. Believe. Me. Leave me alone. Leave me alone! Go away! GO AWAY! Leave me alone. Alone. Alone with me. Alone with the thing.

I'm not insane. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I really didn't! I'm just different.

I'm a monster.

…Save me. Save me, please?

Don't come near me. Get away!

I'm not insane.

You'll die.

AN: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters. I'm just playing with them~ Okay, so this is my first Hetalia fanfiction (One-shots on America, Belarus, and Canada on my other account), so please be gentle. No flames. Constructive criticism, please.

~Echo