While I Was Sleeping
"The time for sleep is now
It's nothing to cry about
Because we'll hold each other soon
In the blackest of rooms"
I awake to a strange, cold sensation on my cheek. Forcing my eyes open my brain slowly tries to comprehend my surroundings. Was I on the kitchen floor? How come I wasn't in my bed? I feel the panic rising in my chest when I realize that the sticky maroon substance just inches from my face is blood. It's a sick realization.
I should still be in bed. In bed with Arthur. That's where I should be. Why the hell was I here? What had happened.
My stomach drops. Is that a body?
I don't want to look. It's not breathing. My body breaks the will of my mind. I force myself up to see who it is. My brain screams for me to stop but I don't.
There's so much blood. Blood everywhere. Why? I breathe in sharply, lungs painfully gasping for air. Is that? No. It couldn't be. I shake my head vigorously hoping that simple action would erase all of this. Tears rimmed my eyes. It didn't go away.
"Arthur." His eyes were closed. His body was so...still. He should have been moving, reading the newspaper or brewing some of his favorite tea. Instead he was on the floor. He was dead.
I lose control. Why can't I understand what's happening? My hands reach for him, pulling his body into my arms. He's so cold. So incredibly cold. I brush one of his cheeks with my fingers. The small smile on his lips causes my poor heart to ache.
Who did this? Why would somebody do this? They had taken the only person that I still cared for in this world. My Arthur.
Hot tears stained his beautiful face as they dropped from my cheeks. That was when I noticed the knife. The knife that he had given me for one of my birthdays long ago. I cherished it. When I was through with using it for something specific it always went into the same drawer. I knew nothing would happen to it that way. What was it doing on the floor?
My brain began to put together the pieces of the puzzle. My blood-stained hands, the knife, the deep cut to Arthur's throat. My eyes widened.
No. It wasn't possible. I could not have done this. There was no way I could have hurt the man that I loved. The man that had practically raised me since childhood. I wasn't capable of such an act.
The blood on my hands begged to differ. A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I stared at nothing in particular. Why was I laughing? This wasn't a situation to laugh at.
He fucking deserved it. That superior look in his eyes. The way he would talk down to me instead of to me. I hated it. Hated him.
This is what he deserved. The knot in my stomach began to tighten as I glanced at his face once again.
Had I really done this? Was this how evil I had become?
No. I wasn't evil. He was the evil one. I loved him.
I still love him.
I finger the blade of the knife, wondering what it must have felt like for him. Did it hurt? I hoped not.
I hoped so.
I didn't understand what I was thinking. This was all too much to comprehend. The tears came once more and I gripped the handle of the knife. I couldn't breathe.
He hated me. He had to have hated me. I hate myself.
How could he have let this happen? Why didn't he defend himself? Why didn't he leave? He really was pathetic. The great nation of England couldn't even protect himself from his former colony. His death was deserved.
Am I trying to make myself feel better by lying to myself like this? I don't know anymore. I can't think straight. I want to die.
If I die will I see him again? What a foolish question. I already knew the answer to that.
Of course not. I didn't want to live. What was there to live for anymore? My most precious possession had been taken from me.
Thick red blood seeped from the fresh wound on my left wrist. The cut was deep. So deep. When had I done this? I can't remember. I feel lightheaded, my grip on Arthur weakening. I let go completely and he limply slumps back to the ground. My tears finally stopped. I don't have control over them anymore.
I don't have control over anything anymore.
A deep gash on my right wrist matched the first perfectly. Did I do this? I don't know. I feel so tired. So tired.
I begin to lay down slowly, positioning myself right next to Arthur. My vision seems so dull, almost dark. I wrap my arms around the man next to me, clinging to him for dear life.
Was I dying? Is this how it felt? It was almost peaceful. I hoped this was what it felt like for Arthur.
It was, I'm sure of it. That thought brought the faintest of smiles to my lips. I closed my eyes slowly, letting the sweet embrace of death take hold of me.
Soon we'll be together my love, my Arthur.
I'm really not sure why I wrote this set of stories...they made me sad. I guess I was feeling rather melancholy today. Bleh. I hope you all enjoyed and please let me know what you think! I'm hoping to write something slightly less depressing soon...Yay!
Oh yeah, I don't own Hetalia or those lyrics, they belong to DCFC.