Italy woke up in an uncomfortable position. He groaned and sat up. For the first time ever he was completely awake and alert. He stood and walked over to the knife protruding from the wall. He gripped the handle and yanked it out. He'd return it to the kitchen collection.
He stepped out of his room silently listening to the eerily quiet house. He surprised himself. He had gotten up before Germany. He slipped the knife into his pants almost instinctively. He sat down on top of the counter, swinging his legs back and forth. He stayed silent listening to the lack of noise. His ears picked up movement from Germany's room so he slipped back off he counter and slid into a corner of the kitchen.
The muscular blonde nation yawned and stretched as he entered the assumingly unoccupied kitchen. He turned on the coffee machine and ran a hand through his hair. "Italy's still in bed... Like usual." He sighed as he grumbled. Italy's eyebrow twitched some as he stepped out of his corner. As Germany turned, Italy slumped his shoulders and quickly made his eyes halflidded as if he were still sleepy. "Ah! Italy, I didn't expect you to be up at this time."
The ginger Italian shrugged his shoulders and flung open the fridge.
"Well, good morning to you too, Italia." Italy snorted at that.
"I don't do good morning, you know that Lutz." His eyes widened at what just slipped out of his mouth. His eyes narrowed. Something was stealing him.
"Who's Lutz?" Italy forced on his most convincing smile and glanced back at the German.
"Haha, no silly, I said Luds as in short for Ludwig~!" He felt proud of sounding more like himself but part of him cringed at the cheer.
"Oh.." He didn't sound entirely convinced and his earlier question had Italy frowning. Who was Lutz? Better yet, maybe, who was he turning into?
A few weeks had past without too much incident making Italy feel more confident. But coming to think of it, perhaps that confidence boost was what finally set it completely off...
Italy woke up with a start. He looked into the mirror at the foot of his bed. Staring back was no longer that other self but his normal self. Suddenly his reflection did something. It started crying and pawing at the mirror. Pitiful. He looked away and pulled out his cell. He flipped the camera to look at himself. He was what used to haunt his reflection. His hair had changed to a brown and his eyes were like blood. A thin scar traced itself across his face.
Somehow it didn't matter to him. He got dressed in a tan uniform and black boots, much more fitting of him then his old, cheery, blue uniform. He sneaked out of the house after stealing one of Germany's pistols and arming himself with two sharp knives.
Just his luck, Romano came storming up to the front of the house. "FRATELLO, WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU YESTERDAY-" Romano halted and froze. "Feliciano?" Italy kept walking past him. He took Romano by surprise in pressing a quick knife to his neck. "Feli...?"
"If you tell anyone about this, I will fucking slit your throat."