A room. A cold, dark room. There were no windows, just a tall wooden door that was locked from the outside. The darkness that engulfed the room was suffocating. It drowned out any light, and kept it trapped in it's clutches to where no one could see it again. The room was completely empty except for an old, beaten up mattress with a few blankets tossed about and the limp figure of a small boy.
The boy was about six years old, or at least he appeared that way. He had dark amber hair that had one strange curl sticking out to the side. His eyes were a dull violet, having lost their vibrancy long ago.
He stared at the base of that tall wooden door that he desperately wished would open again. His eyes had lost all light. It was probably taken by that suffocating darkness that he had grown used to. The small boy curled up into himself as he started shivering again. The blankets that were in the room were too thin to provide any warmth. Why does it have to be so cold in here?..
It had been almost three days since he was locked in here, but it wasn't the first time. Many times he had been unfortunate enough to fall into this situation, and over the smallest of things. The first time he had accidentally tracked mud into his caretaker's house, the second time he hadn't finished dusting properly. Now he was in here because he had broken a plate while trying to put it away.
As harsh as it may seem, it isn't even the worst he's had to go through. New bruises and cut marks are constantly added to his small figure, all because he was a little careless sometimes. There was a point in time when he couldn't walk for a few days because his legs had been whipped so much from punishment. He used to cry over it, but he had run out of tears after some time. What was left was a broken little boy, who's insanity was slowly overtaking him.
After a few moment more of shivering in the dark, the door unlocked and creaked as it opened, letting light pour into the room. "You may come out now, Italia, if you think you have learned your lesson.." He could barely here his caretaker mutter "Brat.." at the end of his sentence. Luciano carefully stood and walked out of the room "Yes sir, I won't do it again.."
My head-cannon is that 2p! Italy was abused alot by Austria when he was little. Thank you for reading