A/N: This scene comes from an arc I was a part of on a RP forum. It's really fun, and if you have the time I'd totally recommend you check it out! Elizabeth is Ireland, an OC that belongs to kellythehetaliafan, not me. forum/Hetalia-The-Roleplay/156203/

Chapter Four: The Third Floor

~Nocturne No. 20 in C-Sharp Minor, Op. Posth.- Chopin~

Roderich Edelstein was autistic. He lived in a corrupted Mental Hospital with a group of other mental patients. Roderich liked therapy through music more than he'd ever liked anything in his life, and through learning and teaching piano, he'd found some kind of escape from things that have been haunting him.

However, sometimes he held the piano closer than he'd ever held his friends, when he really needed friends who understand or partially understand his pain just as much as he needed the music he played all the time.

It had been another long day at the hospital: today it included playing sleepover games with the other patients. It had been a long day, but at least he had held onto control enough so as to not get sent to the third floor.

The Third Floor was a place no patient wanted to go. The doctors up there, who Roderich figured were more like torturers, had more gruesome ways of trying to calm patients down. As a result, Roderich barely trusted the doctors downstairs any more than he trusted those upstairs. Dr. Mathias and Dr. Elizabeth and the intern and cook Antonio… They seemed nice but Roderich learned from his past experiences to never trust people based on how they seem.

After saying a very crabby good night to the other patients, Roderich retired to his bedroom. He slid his glasses off, changing into an oversized T-shirt and pair of sweat pants, turning off the lights, and lying awake. In a desperate attempt to doze off, he grabbed his favorite pocket watch from the shelf, feeling it tick quietly in his palm, before winding it up and listening to his favorite Nocturne from Chopin (No. 2 Op. 9) play quietly.

He continued to toss and turn, soon getting overheated and shedding off the covers, continuing to roll around to try and cool down a little. Finally, he felt himself drift off to an uneasy sleep.

Darkness soon turned into the sitting room of the hospital, in which the patients played their games. Roderich was there, but he wasn't in full control already. He was much too used to losing control like this.

Dr. Elizabeth smiled at him from across the room as she asked him, "Roderich, truth or dare?"

The Austrian patient shifted a little as he spewed out, "Truth." Inside, Roderich knew where this was going, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Have you ever had a crush on a boy in your life?" she asked. Roderich shifted uncomfortably and knew where this was about to go.

Thinking about Gilbert, the nice boy at school, the only one who treated Roderich like he was a person, even though Rod had to be guided around by an adult helper, even though sometimes he lost control in school and screamed and cried and had to be calmed down… Gilbert was his only friend, and he was someone Roderich developed feelings for beyond friendship.

Suddenly, as if being shoved in a vortex, he finds himself slightly younger, in high school, walking in the autumn air, his adult helper (more like slave-trader) next to him as they opened the doors of the facility and stepped inside.

"Have a good night," the helper said, turning and walking away. Roderich took off his boots and jacket and walked to the cafeteria, where he sat with a slightly younger Antonio (still nothing but a job-shadower) and a couple other blurry faces.

"How was school?" he asked, with a smile that Roderich looked away from.

"I think I have a crush." The words came spilling out of him before he could stop them. He was trying so hard to keep from reliving this scene, but it didn't work. He couldn't control himself in the dream, just like in real life.

"Really!? Dios mio! That's wonderful! Who is it Rod!?" Antonio was so excited, his green eyes glinted with happiness.

Roderich wasn't feeling quite so happy. He played with his food and said nothing.

"It is nothing good," he mumbled.

"Que!? Why not!? Is she taken!?"

"No," he mumbled, humiliated. DON'T SAY IT RODERICH! DON'T- "It is not a girl."

"Not a girl!? Oh, Roderich! That is very exciting! Thank you for telling!" Could he be any louder!?

Needless to say, it didn't take very long for Roderich to become the talk of the patients and doctors. He knew it would've gotten out even if Antonio hadn't known, but he needed someone to blame it on and he was the only one around.

He was angry, and he was losing control again. Screaming curses and angry words at Antonio, his friend. The more time went on, the angrier he felt, and the more control he lost. Part of him deep inside knew he was wrong, and he shouldn't be doing this, but there was nothing he could do to help it now.

Before he could get himself together, he was dragged by some less than nice guys up the stairs.

The Third Floor.

"No!" Roderich thrashed in the tight grips of the men that were holding him, "NO! YOU BASTARDS CAN'T MAKE ME GO UP THERE!" But they could, and they would.

Shoved down, his knees smacked the unforgiving tile floor. Wrists and ankles bound to a post, shirt ripped off his body, lost his glasses on the floor in front of him… All he could do was wait for the impact of whatever torturous device they were going to use on him.

"Roderich Edelstein," said a raspy voice, as a sharp-feeling object smacked his skin with the crack that made him figure it was a whip. Oh, how he wished his parents would've cared about him enough to keep him with them in Austria, not send him here, to this poor, corrupt little shack of a hospital!

He was still out of control, like a monster. He struggled with the metal shackles on his wrists, tugging as hard as his strength would let him. Each crack of the whip opened new wounds on his back.

He had been punished up here before, sure, but never whipped. Not until today.

"STOP IT BASTARDS! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!?" he thrashed so violently it hurt, but he had to get out. Tears were pouring out of his eyes, sharp and painful.

"The talk of the town is that you're a faggot now," said the raspy voice. "We have to ensure that this unhealthy habit of yours is gone forever."

How'd they know that!?

A second's delay of him remembering, then he shouted, "ANTONIO!"

After that he said no more words, just howled with pain and anger and rage, thrashing and trying to get out of there, trying to break free with each crack of the whip

"You'll never get better again if this continues, Roderich," the raspy voice said.

Crack!

"This is for your own good."

Crack!

"The kids at school would give you trouble if we wouldn't have interjected."

Crack!

"We're helping you, Roderich."

Crack!

"You'll thank us later when you know better."

Crack!

"You're too much of a freak already to have anything else freaky about you."

Crack!

"You're going to have a hard enough time finding love with a woman, let alone another man, you're so unlovable."

Crack!

"Imagine what would happen if this boy found out."

Crack!

"Imagine how disgusted he'd be! An autistic faggot having the audacity to like him!"

Crack!

That's when a voice in his head said, "Gilbert isn't like that."

He forced himself to speak, through tears and clenched teeth, after a howl, voice shaking… "Gilbert isn't like that."

After that, he took the rest of the punishment somewhat quietly, whimpering to himself. Soon he slouched over, ducking his head and doing nothing but hum his vocal chords and taking the rest of the whippings until he passed out.

But apparently Gilbert is like that.

~.~.

It was no wonder that he didn't want to talk much that morning. It was no wonder he didn't want to talk to anyone, especially not Antonio. He felt like shit, wanted to forget Gilbert and that day he just stopped talking to Roderich.

And it was just Roderich's luck that the same day, the same day as his past was handed right back to him, the same day he took no time to look presentable and walked around tiredly in a T-shirt and sweats, was the day that the Third Floor would be shut down for good. The patients would have to reflect, say what happened to the police… And one of them was one Roderich knew all too well.

The one he had endured so much for. The one he had stood up for. The reason Roderich is terrified of his scars in the first place.

Gilbert.