Warning: Slight Italy abuse, mindf_k
Music: What Lies Beneath by Breaking Benjamin from Dear Agony
What Lies Beneath
"Wh- Where am I?"
For some reason, I am here in this empty black space. It feels really creepy in here. I can't see an end or an exit anywhere... Ve... Germany...
"Hello?" I yelled. "Is anyone here?"
No response.
I sighed and heard my footsteps echo throughout the darkness.
"What is that?" I heard myself say.
I focused my eyes on the sight of white, but it wasn't a way out. It looks like one of those lights that you see when something is on display in a museum or something. Should I...?
Above the light hung a painting from an invisible string. The painting was splattered in some kind of red paint, but it was already old and flaking. I tried to scratch some of it off, and a little bit did.
Liebe...
"Wha-"
No one.
"Ve... I'm really scared now... Germany..."
Despite that, I continued trying to figure out what was behind the old paint. I scratched it until a good amount of paint had been removed and it was...!
"Thi- This can't be! Not him... why him?"
Holy Roman Empire.
It was a painting of the time he said goodbye to me. I took into account every detail of the painting, from the beautiful blue sky to the greenery on the ground. What scared me the most was Holy Rome's eyes. They weren't the way I remembered them. This Holy Rome looked sad... almost depressed. Why would it be like this? I remember clearly this moment in my long life time, and I knew Holy Rome was happy while he was leaving.
Even if it was fake.
I left the painting there, and slowly came across many others. The same red paint was on every one, covering faces of the ones I knew or was close to. The weird thing was that the paint got fresher the farther I went. The paint varied in the amount of it for each person. Holy Rome had a lot covering his painting, while some others that I've seen - America and Russia - had little on them.
Ita... why...?
"Spain?"
Still no one.
The painting before me was Spain's. The red paint on his picture was fresher than most, but there was a small amount only. Spain was glaring at something, and he had this same look when he was still an empire. At least that's what Romano says.
ITALIA VENEZIANO!
"Eek! Romano, I'm sorry!"
Nothing.
And Romano's painting was there, next to Spain's, with plenty of red paint. For some reason, Romano's painting wasn't of just him. There was another figure there, watching his body in the cell. I could tell, even with the paint covering it.
The last painting I came across was Germany's, and it wasn't done yet.
It's been a while since I saw the paintings... at least it seems like it. What's that sound? Clapping?
"Well done, Italy."
I reached for a white flag I didn't have and panicked.
"Who's there!" It came out scratchy and broken. I was scared down to my boots.
"Oh, don't tell me you forgot?" That voice sounds too sweet.
And it sounds all too familiar.
A figure stepped out of the shadows. He wore a brown military uniform with a black strap going across the chest. His pants were puffed and tucked into black boots. He had unearthly purple eyes, and worst of all...
He was me.
"H-How could I forget about you?" I managed to choke out.
He smirked. "Why don't you take a look at you're hands?"
"Why should I-"
Red.
My hands were stained with red.
"Wha-?"
"Do you know what this is, Veneziano? It is the blood of the ones on the paintings, all on your hands."
He was smug. He was confident.
"You're ly-lying..."
"Then tell me about the varying amounts of red, why don't you?"
Nothing came out.
He laughed.
"As I expected." He let out a chuckle. "The red you saw on the paintings was not red paint, but the amount of blood the one had when-"
"I refuse to believe you." I muttered.
He leaned in as if he was pretending to care. "Hm? What was that?"
"I said... 'I refuse to believe you.'"
He smiled. "Why should you not? I am you and you are me, so why should you not believe yourself, Veneziano?"
"Because I am not you anymore."
"Oh yes you are."
"How? I'm a pacifist. You, on the other hand, are not." My voice was trembling. Hell, my whole body was trembling.
He kicked me down and lift my chin up to eye level. "The brighter the red, the newer."
"What?"
He used my back as a footstool. "Let's put it this way: The fresher the paint, the newer."
My eyes widened and he smirked.
"Exactly."
"No." I said while struggling to get away. This only made him push down on me harder.
"Did you ever wonder why Germany's painting is unfinished?"
He took out a knife and toyed with it before throwing it into Germany's unfinished painting, which reappeared. It caused an explosion of color. He then sat on my back.
I collapsed with the weight and listened to his explanation, tears welling up in my eyes. If this weight didn't kill me, he would.
"Oh, and by the way," He began.
"We're inside your mind."
I blinked once... twice... three times.
"Germany?" I looked on with glee, but was met with an icy cold glare directed at me.
"D-Damn... you..."
Red.
That was all that I saw.
I will always be here, for the rest of my life.
Disclaimer: I no own APH or Breaking Benjamin, yes?
A/N: … That 2P Italy… Dear Lord he sounds like Izaya in my head. *bashes head on something* Please forgive me if "regular" Italy is OOC! I've never really written a "normal" Italy before… Oh and… I think I actually confused myself while writing this. Sorry if it sucks...