Sorry for any typos or errors! I tried to read over it a couple times which is why this took longer.

Enjoy my muffins!


Footsteps echoed through the darkness.

Italy could faintly hear them, but he was too lost in his own fear and desperate imaginaton to notice how close they were. The door to his room creaked opened. A blinding beam of light shot into the dark room and Italy groaned, rolling over onto his side so that his back was to this new light. It was annoying, yet at the same time, he wished it would wake him up. There was something wrong with his imagination and his dreams. They were twisted and different. Not like he remembered.

There was a gasp.

"Oh my god..h-he's keeping people here!?"

Italy rolled over and sat up. Standing the doorway was a person. Their flashlight was shining directly at him and he was unable to tell who it was. However, judging on the reaction, it wasn't anyone who knew who he was or even cared about him. It was some stranger. No doubt the kind that Slenderman had said about.

The scene before him played in slow motion.

Slenderman glided to a stop behind the person. One of his black tenticle things came from his back and wrapped around the person standing in the doorway. He screamed loudly and started to fight it, but it was impossible to break free. Slenderman backed up and closer the door with his pale hand. The man's screaming got worse and worse. Italy whimpered as he listened to the horror going on outside his door. There were loud thumps against the wall.

Italy screamed and hid under the covers. He didn't want to hear this anymore. He didn't want to see this anymore. He wanted to go home. The stranger's cries of terror and pain died down and silence once again swallowed them all. The Italian didn't move from his place however. He could already imagine what was waiting out there thanks to countless wars that he had been forced to take part in. There would be blood spattered everywhere. There would be guts and there would be a corpse.

That cold electricity feeling passed through his mind again, but this time it went slowly and not as sharply as before. His rigid body calmed and his breathing slowed back to a normal breath. Italy pushed back the blanket and stared at the door. Curiousity pushed him onward. He had to know if staying here would be a danger to him or not. Slenderman could have easily been lying to him. Too many people knew how and too many people did.

Italy crawled out of the bed and walked over to the door, keeping his weight on the upper half of his body so that his feet were quieted. He reached for the door knob and hesitated. Looking in the hallway would change everything. His pale fingers wrapped around the door knob and Italy took in a large breath. He turned the handle and pulled the door open quickly.

The hallway was completely clean.

There was no blood. There were no guts. There wasn't even a corpse. Where had it all gone? Italy stepped out into the hallway fully and looked around. The hall was dark, but there was enough light that he could see what was in front of him. Where was the bloodshed? Where was the chaos? Where was-

Italy felt a hand on his shoulder and he screamed.

"Italy."

Turning around, he came face to face with Slenderman.

"I thought I told you to lock the door."

Italy felt the fear from a few moments before flood through him. Was he mad at him? He hadn't meant for that person to open the door! Italy didn't even know that stranger would be here! How was he suppose to know? Slenderman slowly moved forward and herded Italy back into his room. The boy sat down on the bed and Slenderman stood in the doorway.

"The world here is dangerous. More than you've seen. Keep the door locked. Don't come out." Slenderman then glided back out of the room and closed the door. After a couple of minutes, Italy released the breath he had no idea he had been holding. Why was he so scary like that? It was clear that he meant no harm, but he was just so scary! The way he sounded and looked..

Italy suddenly realized something. While Slenderman was without a doubt creepy and scream worthy, the boy found himself..attracted to him. He wanted to know more about the crea-pardon-the pictonian. Why was he here? Why was he likes this? Why was he hiding here? Italy was curious. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Slenderman and now he could. He was living with him after all.

But why did he have to keep leaving? Everytime Italy found himself wanting to know more and not afraid, Slenderman disappeared. Was he purposely trying to torment him like this? No, of course not. That was a silly thing to think. He had brought Italy here to help him after all; to make him happy. But what if he really was sadistic in nature? What if he found happiness in Italy's misery? Was that all he was to this white, faceless being?

Italy walked back over to the bed and sat down. Pookie came out from her hiding place under the bed and jumped into his lap with a meow. The Italian petted her head, but over all ignored her presence. There were too many other things he was thinking about. More important questions that tugged at his nation brain.

He looked back at the nightstand where the paper and the pencil was. Something suddenly came over him that demanded he drew. Italy grabbed a piece of paper and the pencil and started drawing. He had no idea what exactly he was drawing, but he just kept drawing. More and more black covered the pages until it was sketched out. Italy looked at what his mind had created and found a crude drawing of Slenderman. He was confused. His art skills were usually better than this.

Italy laid back down on the bed and held the drawing close to him. He was confused and lost. What was this strange feeling he had everytime he thought of the man keeping him here? It was definately positive that was for sure. He wanted to keep looking at him; listening to him; learning about him.

Yet everytime he remembered who he was thinking about, that same cold fear returned. He was scared and excited about him. It was like pleasure and pain mixing together into some kind of wonderful blend that only Italy could feel. Did Slenderman feel this too? Did he feel this wonderfully painful feeling too?

Italy wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted to fall back into his twisted and distrubed dreams. There, he would find his true answers. Why there? Because his head was hding the truth that his heart was searching for. It was always the case. Especially now. He already knew the answers, but some part of his brain was repressing it; hiding it from him just to torture him. Italy already knew however, that searching in his twisted dreams would be the same as walking these hallways.

His mind had become dark and confusing. It became an endless maze, forcing him to wander helplessly confused and searching for the answers when there were none to be found. Italy hated it. He hated the wandering; the confused questions. When did this start? He used to be so carefree and oblivious. Now he was aware of everything and anything dark. His mind had become warped and was no longer the innocent mind he once had.

This place had tainted him. Taken away what innocence he had. Yet, nothing had actually happened. He had listened to the death of a stranger and looked death in the face, but nothing more. What turned his imagination into this? Was it merely being in the presence of Slenderman? Or was he falling into the insanity that had been forming inside his head the entire time, but never showed until he had given up the last speck of hope?

Italy needed someone. He needed a hand to take, a person to hold. Someone to tell him that he was going to fine, even when he himself knew he wasn't going to be. That person who would hold him tightly and share his heat. Their hearts beating together to the faint rhythm of their breathing. Italy couldn't function without another being in his life. He had always loved and had been loved in return. He needed his other half.

He needed Germany.