Kurai-onii: Hello friends, fellow writers, minions. I haven't been updating for a while so I decided to write a one-shot that's based off a nightmare I had recently…which brings me to the question. Why do all my nightmares happen in the form of a horror game?
~Warning: Gore, Character death, Snapped!Canada. Oh and I also switch from nation to character names at the end. I OWN NOTHING~
America panted heavily as he ran down the dark hallway, blood splattered the dark walls and the bodies of his fellow nations littered the floor. Horrid deranged laughter filled his ears. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't put the voice with a name, for you see he was far too busy running for his life. A small yelp escaped his lips as his foot caught on something soft. He landed with a thud on the wooden floor; he whipped his head back to see the object that had been blocking his path. What he saw made him gag.
There lay the mutilated body of England. The blond nation's former caretaker lay in a pool of his own blood, which flowed freely from two long gashes that cut across his chest. His face was covered in bruises and small cuts, as if someone had beat him before ruthlessly slaughtering him, and his arm was bent at an impossible angle, broken without a doubt.
"Aw, such a sweet family moment. You're lucky it was Dad you found and not Papa, you'd have thrown up." America froze in his place. He turned slowly and met with the crazed violet eyes of his brother, Canada.
In his hand was clasped a blood caked knife. Canada himself was splattered in red from head to toe, even his beautiful golden hair was stained that horrible color. His glasses were cracked and were dotted with red here and there, but the truly terrifying thing was how his eyes looked; dangerous, broken, filled with malice and insanity. America's blue eyes locked with Canada's violet ones. It was as though he was incapable of looking away.
Canada tilted his head to the side in wonder. "What's wrong brother? You look scared."
"H-heroes don't get scared." Though his voice betrayed his statement as it went up nearly an octave higher.
Canada giggled lightly, "I should have known you'd be the one to try and act brave even in the face of death." The blond gulped. "I guess it doesn't matter. Just so long as I can make you scream."
It was then America knew what he had to do, and it was of course very brave and very heroic.
He ran like a total bitch.
'All super heroes run away sometimes right? And, I mean my bro's, like, gone insane and stuff.' Feeling that his reasons were justified he picked up the pace, trying to ignore the familiar faces that looked up at him with soulless, dead eyes. He half expected them to stand up and start speaking to him as if it were a normal, everyday occurrence. After all, nations aren't capable of dying unless they're wiped off the map.
Had Canada really managed to take down some of the strongest countries in the world? Not that it mattered to America, as far as he was concerned he was the strongest. His biggest concern was why. Why would Canada have a reason to kill someone? Sure they forgot him at times, and they constantly mistook him for his brother, and they could never remember his name, and they always beat him up or yelled at him for his twin's mistakes, but it wasn't that bad…was it?
'I can't believe you always forgot your own brother! He could have fallen into depression, or gone insane. Which, if I may point out, he already has.' His subconscious scolded him.
"Shut up me." America hissed as he skidded to a stop. "That should be far enough."
"Not quite, brother." America almost let out a scream as the cold knife edge dug into the skin of his neck, but of course he didn't because he's way to manly, and heroes don't scream. "Why would you run away before the fun starts?" Canada whispered creepily in his ear.
"C-come on bro, I'm sure we can talk this out." The steel was pressed harder against his throat.
"I'm not in the mood for talking anymore." A small trace of anger laced his tone. "Now no one can forget me."
And then he dragged the knife across America's skin.
…
"-and that's when I woke up." Alfred shivered as he retold the tale to his twin brother Matthew. Matthew clutched his stuffed polar bear to his chest and stared at his brother with wide eyes.
"W-why would I want to kill you?" The boy flung himself into his brother's arms. "You must've been so scared!"
"I wasn't scared." Al sat shaking like a leaf as his brother hugged him.
"But you're trembling."
"It's just cold in here! I swear! Like I'd ever be scared of such a stupid little nightmare." Matthew gave him a; you-better-fucking-tell-the-truth-before-I-get-my-hockey-stick glare. "Fine! I was fucking scared! Just stop looking at me like that Mattie; it's giving me the creeps."
They both froze at the sound of footsteps on the creaky wooden stairs. "What the bloody hell is with all the yelling." Their father, Arthur, glared at Alfred. "What are you doing up so late? You better not have woken your brother up to tell him ghost stories again. You're going to give yourself nightmares again and none of us want to deal with that." It was then their papa, Francis, bounded down the stairs.
"Mon cher, what's wrong? Come back to bed already." The Frenchman wound his arms around his husband's waist.
"Get off of me you bloody frog!" He tried to break free, but Francis merely switched their positions so that Arthur was pinned against the railing. It was then he began attacking the Englishman's mouth with his own.
"Gross! Get a room!" Alfred yelled.
"Gladly." Francis pulled Arthur into his arms, kicking and screaming mind you, and began to carry him up the stairs. "Cover your ears boys. Your father's a screamer."
Matthew waited until he heard the soft click of the bedroom door before turning back to his brother. "We should probably go back to sleep before they… you know…"
"U-um yeah. We should go back to sleep. It's not like I'm scared or anything right? HAHAHAHAHA!"
"Alfred."
"Yes?"
"You want to sleep in my room don't you?"
"…Maybe."
-The end-
Kurai-onii: I'm really tired so sorry if the end sucked. Anyway please review and all that jazz….goodnight or good morning depending on where you live and when you're reading this.