It was so sudden. Nobody expected it. Francis jumped up and took Antonio's wrist and checked for pulse.
"It's no use. He's gone." Lovino slid to the ground and sobbed. Nobody moved a muscle. One of them, dead? Horror passed over everyone. "So maybe… it wasn't a practical joke." Alfred mumbled. Something was wrong now. Defiantly wrong. Somebody was out to get them. U.N. Owen was some serious business.
"Dead? But how?" Lovino choked. Francis checked over him and turned to them. "Poisoned. Cyanide. Potassium Cyanide." The room was silent except for Lovino's sobs.
"H-how did it get into his cup?" Yao finally asked. "It's possible he did it on purpose. Suicide, maybe." Lovino couldn't make sound anymore. It hurt.
Francis checked the vodka and the other cups. Nothing there. He searched Alfred and the floors and Antonio's pockets. Nothing. So then, how did it get to him?
Eventually, they decided to just take Antonio's body to the dining room. When Yao peered inside, he screamed. "What's wrong?" Ivan said, holding him up. "I swear! 10 of them… but… 9!" "I don't understand." "What is this? There are only 9 little Indian figurines now! Somebody took the 10th!" And so it was. When Antonio died, there were now only 9.
Ivan lead Yao up to his room and returned to his. Quite bothersome, he thought. Someone was out to get them. It made him remember his sisters. Yes, that's it. Fond memories. He'll be able to escape the island alive, and nobody could get him. He took out his pistol in his drawer. No, he thought. He put it back. He'd be ready for the next attack. He definitely would be.
Alfred sat in his room and thought about his brother. A nice boy, he was. Cute, but not noticed very often. It saddened both him and his brother, and sometimes made him angry. He remembered the way he pushed his glasses up his nose, the stuffed polar bear he would carry around, his love for hockey. Hockey. He was never good at it…
Ludwig looked at his sleeping 'wife'. Their doctor gave him a bottle of sedatives for his recent inability to sleep. Worrying too much, that's what it is. He bookmarked the page he was on. For a while, he just stared at his face. Mediterranean, you could tell. Warm skin, caramel eyes, red hair, beautiful to sum it all up. He reached over and turned the light off. He'd see him more in the morning.
Francis lay awake. He just couldn't sleep. He had another bottle of sedatives, he was sure. He just didn't want to take them. Instead, he thought of Vash. He was Swiss. And he was blonde with green eyes. He remembered the day he first managed to get him to go on a date with him. Ah, so young and carefree back then. But Vash, to suddenly be so unhappy. Out to get groceries was what he was told. What was really happening was he was out on a date with some aristocrat. The man had stolen him away. He found out and was heartbroken. Francis began to pack his things, and then Vash got home. "I-I didn't mean it! It wasn't supposed to be like that! We met in the store by chance, and we talked about college! He just- I mean- I wouldn't have kissed him! HE kissed ME!"
Francis cried himself to sleep that night.
Ludwig startled Francis awake that morning. At 7:00 AM, he ran to his room. "Francis! Francis!" "Calm down and tell me what's the matter!" "Feli! I can't get him to wake up! He seems so pale, too." The normally stoic man was in a frenzy. Francis went straight to their room. Indeed, the little Italian did look pale. His pulse was gone, and he was limp. To Ludwig's horror, he picked him up and handed him to him. "I'm afraid he's gone. Overdosed on sedatives." Ludwig dropped to the floor and cradled Feliciano. It was hours before he could let him go to put him in the dining room.
In the dining room, on the table, were now only 8 figurines.
FELICIANOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Short chapter, just wanted to get out our little Italian's death out as quickly as possible.
So, do you think I'm not giving a character enough attention? Please tell me.
