Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, all characters belong to their respective owners.

WARNING: Mature Content for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is advised.

Romano (S. Italy)

Today, he hit me again. It was twice in the temple and I started bleeding, then he knifed me in the stomach.

He probably would've done more if hadn't been for that Nazi bastard.

Not now, Italy. You can have your fun later.

Yeah, that's what he said. Damn him. Damn them all! Why don't they all just go to hell?

Now I'm just sitting here, lying curled up in a ball, chained to the wall of this cell. It's cold and damp and dark and silent, being in here for hours at a time can really break someone. It's not the first time he's locked me up in here. No, the first was when he took over, he wanted a place to put me out of the way and out of his sight. He hates me and I don't know why. He used to love me or at least I thought so. I used to love him too didn't I? But I hate him too now. No, I'm lying to myself, aren't I? I can't hate him, can I? He's my brother, my little brother. But for the things he's done to me, it would easier to call him Satan.

I don't know what to think anymore.

Soon he'll to come back and then the real torture will begin; a knife across the face, slice across an arm, a stab in the chest, but it'll only be the beginning. I'll scream as the blood splatters against walls and his face. I'll beg for mercy but he'll moves closer and I'll feel a warm, wet tongue lick the scarlet liquid on my neck. I'll want it to stop, I'll want to get out of there, but I won't be able to get out from under him. Goddamn it! The worst part is the fact that I'll never die, I'm a nation of course. My body will heal, physically I'll get better, then he'll continue on and on. The pain will never stop hurting. And I won't be able to stop him.

Sometimes I think about freedom, a crazy stupid dream. I don't believe I'll be the one to free myself, then Spain, that tomato crazed idiot bastard, comes to my mind. Heh, it's almost amusing to picture him throwing the red fruit at my torturers. But then reality sets in, the mentioned idiot has locked himself away in his own country. No one's heard of him since the day the war ended. He doesn't respond to any kind of message or letter. All of this also means he's one of the few remaining unconquered nations in Europe, but now the Axis are knocking at his door. Sooner or later, he's going to have to answer.

He came last night. I was there in the cell like usual, I heard the creaking of the barred door open and then his feet scuffle across the stone floor. I didn't want to look at him, but I couldn't help myself. Even the way he stood was different, he was so tall, so erect. His stance had purpose; his shoulders weren't slouched over lazily or relaxed. But maybe it was all a matter of perspective, I was the one of the ground.

Then I saw that smile on his face, it was a small, playful smirk. It didn't belong to him. It wasn't genuine or loving like the way my brother smiled. It wasn't happy for a stupid reason like my brother always was. It was fake, only there to mock me.

The person that stood in front of me wasn't my brother. He looked like my brother. He had the strange curly strand of hair like my brother. He wore the same clothes as my brother.

Hey, Romano. . . How're ya doing veh~?

His voice belonged to my brother.

But the stranger that stood above me wasn't Veneziano.

I hate you.

Master Smiley Face: Dunn! Dun! Duuunn! XD

Romano: Gah...*speechless*

Italy: Hey everbody! What's a-happening veh~? *completely oblivous*

Rom: Vene-Venziano...?

Ita: What is it Romano? Do I have something in my teeth?

MSF: *LOL* Pfftt... Thinking Canada or China wil be next... Until next time! ;)