Sorry for the delay, everyone. I hope you're still enjoying this story even if it's not as great as Midnight Dancers. Inspiration is just a little low. Anyway, I won't bother you with such insignificant details.
Happy reading~!
Please, please review! It would help so very much~ *is trying to reach 50 reviews* /shot.
Warning: Language
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Chapter Nine
Antonio opened his eyes to find himself in The Pit—that's what he decided to call this evil, godforsaken place. It was nothing but a black hole that sucked him into the deepest and darkest recesses of his mind. He looked around for Camille. She was nowhere to be found.
How odd, he thought. She usually followed him. The eerie mist tickling his ankles sent chills throughout his entire body and goose bumps crawled up his arms.
Taking caution, Antonio stood and stepped forward, being absolutely careful not to brush the headstones with numbers—especially Number 6. Wandering away from the immediate vicinity of the tombstones, Antonio headed towards the back of the graveyard, reading each tablet. If he wasn't careful, he would miss the fine line between the numbers and names and end up going too far.
11… 12… 13…
Here they were.
Emilio and Adelita Carriedo.
Antonio felt that twinge of sadness again, as if a piece of his heart was being torn. It was just a small incision, nothing to really fret over. But Antonio worried about it. He wondered what it meant, this sadness. He had no ties to these people. None whatsoever. And if he did, his father failed to mention them.
Maybe I saw them when I was a baby, Antonio figured.
But he wouldn't have remembered them, would he? He could barely remember what happened earlier that day—he paused on that thought. Of course he remembered what happened. How could he forget? His jaw still throbbed from the solid blow that was dealt.
The anger and hatred burning in Caleb's eyes was also hard to erase from his mind. Antonio rubbed at his sore and bruised face. He sighed. He could've easily hit back. He didn't know why he didn't though. He was supposed to be tough like his dad. Why couldn't he be…? Maybe he was afraid he would get in trouble, too.
Then his dad would be very disappointed in him if he got in trouble during his first week of school. Instead of causing trouble he should be focused on making a good impression. There was nothing that sickened him more than his father to be disappointed in him. It made his stomach wrap itself in one huge, painful knot that took days to unravel. It made his heart sink so low into his stomach. It honestly made him ill.
Like the one time he lied to his dad about breaking one of the glass cups when he was trying to reach for a bowl so he could get himself some cereal. He cut his hand and had blamed it on the Siberian Husky puppy his father had gotten for him who he named Michaelis.
"Now how Michaelis managed to make it up there, I will never know. He must be some kind of super-dog," Lovino grabbed the broom so he could sweep up the mess.
"Yeah… a super-dog," Antonio had shuffled his feet nervously.
"Are you sure Michaelis did it, Toni? I think he would have cut his paw or something. You're not lying to me, are you?" his father glanced at him from the corner of his eye, causing Antonio to flinch. There was no malice in those eyes—just curious expectation.
"Nu-uh."
"You know how I feel about lying, Antonio. I won't be mad if you just tell me the truth."
Uh-oh—his full name. He was in deep trouble.
"I-I'm not lying, Papa," Antonio's eyes shifted away from his father's.
"You should probably go get a Band-Aid for that cut, Antonio. You don't want it to get infected," Lovino turned his back to the boy and continued picking up the glass.
Antonio would never forget the look in his father's eyes that day. Utter disappointment. He later apologized to his father about breaking the glass and for lying.
There was a knowing light in Lovino's eyes, "I already knew you broke the glass. I wasn't upset about that. What I was upset about is that you lied to me about doing it. I was disappointed in you, Antonio. To me, it wasn't as if I didn't have your trust as you have mine."
"I'm sorry, Papa," Antonio hugged him tightly.
His father had of course forgiven him but the sheer guilt was enough to make Antonio's stomach cramp for the next hour.
Brushing that memory aside, Antonio knelt in front of their graves, his fingers ghosting over their mossy surface. Who were these people and why did he feel so compelled to visit them? He knew nothing save for the small strumming in the back of his heart and mind.
"Antonio," a voice whispered behind him.
Swiftly turning, Antonio saw the duo smiling down at him. Adelita knelt down and tenderly stroked the bruise on the boy's face. He winced, expecting her touch to be freezing but it was surprisingly warm.
"You poor thing," she sighed, her native language being spoken. "He hit you so hard."
"W-Who are you?" Antonio didn't dare pull away. The feeling that ran through his body was too familiar for him to. He had to know these people. He just had to! What he also found odd was that he could understand what they were saying. They were speaking Spanish but he was Italian, wasn't he? He shouldn't be able to understand what they were saying at all.
"We're friends of your father," Emilio replied with little to no hesitation.
"How come I've never met you before?" Antonio looked back and forth between the two.
"We… never had the honor of meeting you before you were born, Toni. We passed away shortly after you were born," Adelita said.
Antonio nodded, suffice with that answer.
"We're so proud of you, Antonio," the woman hugged him close so he could feel the warmth radiating from her. "We love you so much."
Antonio, much to his surprise, hugged the woman back. That void that had been drilled into his heart was filled. Maybe there was some good here in The Pit. Maybe it wasn't such a terrifying place after all. Only one word came to mind as he saw Miss Adelita in a different light:
Mother.
This woman was his mother. Why hadn't he realized it before when he met her the first time? The resemblance was evident. And this man… this man was his—
Antonio suddenly couldn't breathe anymore. Instead of being hugged by the sweet Spanish woman, she had her hands clasped firmly around his throat, smiling wickedly. He coughed as the smell of liquor burned his nostrils. Antonio pulled her hands away weakly, the lack of oxygen beginning to take its toll.
"Die," Adelita hissed.
"He fell right to sleep when he lay down. I was trying not to let him in case he suffered a concussion when he fell but he told me he was fine. Of course, I didn't take his word for it but he was asleep before I could do much else," the nurse explained to Lovino as the Italian watched the boy sleep.
Lovino was eyeing the darkening bruise on Antonio's jaw, not bothering to pay much attention to the nurse. However he did manage to catch the words "concussion" and "fall." Lovino was thinking otherwise. This was no fall. Someone hit his son and had gotten away with it. He would remain quiet today, for Antonio's sake. But tomorrow there would be hell raised.
"Thank you. I'll be sure to check him into the doctor," Lovino moved towards his son to wake him.
As soon as Lovino placed his hand on Antonio's shoulder, said child inhaled deeply and coughed strongly, putting his hand to his throat to check if there was still something there. Lovino and the nurse jumped back in surprise while Antonio processed his surroundings in a frantic haze.
"Where am I?" Antonio repeated the question rapidly in Italian.
"You're in the nurse's office at school," Lovino said calmly in the same language. "You're safe. Nothing can hurt you here. You're safe and sound."
The nurse stood there, absolutely baffled. What in the world had happened? Did Antonio have a nightmare? If so, that was the worst case she's seen in her years of being a mother and nurse. By how evenly Lovino was acting, she assumed that this was normal. She watched as Lovino murmured comforting things to Antonio in Italian, noticing the immediate effect it had on the boy.
"Papa…" Antonio murmured, still trying to gather the rest of his senses. His words came out in slurred Italian. "You're here… why? Is school over?"
"No, I'm picking you up early. That was quite a fall you took, huh?" Lovino responded in the same language. He didn't think Antonio would respond well to the English with as muddled his mind was right now.
"Uh-huh," Antonio nodded and scratched his head.
"Come on, I've got your backpack," Lovino aided Antonio in standing off the recovery couch.
Antonio, without his realizing it, grabbed onto Lovino's hand tightly.
"Thank you for your help. I'll keep him home tomorrow to make sure nothing's wrong with him," Lovino threw a small smile at the nurse and she blushed lightly. Walking out with his son, Lovino helped Antonio climb into the backseat.
"You haven't been getting enough sleep, have you, Antonio?" Lovino glanced in the rearview mirror once they were on the road. "Is it the nightmares again?"
Antonio was quiet. He didn't want to tell his dad that the nightmares had returned. Every time he felt out of control in his life was when he was most vulnerable to those dark memories flooding his mind and drowning him within his subconscious. He was doing so well. He wanted to keep doing well and maybe they would go away entirely. The boy knew that this would never be the case.
Marcello was out and about plotting against them, wishing them dead. Of course that man still plagued his mind on top of the fact that he was in a new school without any friends (except Violet but he didn't want to think about her right now). And then there was Caleb and his little flunkies. Antonio knew they wouldn't leave him alone even if he never spoke to Violet again.
They preyed on kids like him. They fed off their helplessness. Not to mention the blonde had the teachers wrapped around his finger. Antonio was new. There was no way the adults would believe him if he told them Caleb was bullying him. And it wasn't like Antonio was strong enough to hold his own. He hadn't hit any sort of growth spurt or any strength to intimidate such a boy. Sure he could talk the talk, but could he walk the walk? It was a lose-lose situation for the small newbie.
"Antonio?" Lovino's voice called him back.
"Yes?" said boy looked up.
"I asked you if the nightmares had come back."
"Oh. No, they haven't. I've just been up late watching TV is all," Antonio said.
Another lie. Why did he resort to that? Why? He was just going to get caught again! And then he would be in even more trouble this time because it's not some silly glass he broke.
Lovino raised an eyebrow, "Antonio Vargas."
"I-I'm not lying, Papa," Antonio avoided making eye contact at all costs, knowing he would soon reap what he had sown.
"There is no way in hell I'm letting you go out there alone!" Gilbert shouted, his eyes burning.
"I'm not just going to sit here and let whoever took them from me get away. That is unacceptable," Ludwig's expression was caught between a raging hurricane and the calm before the storm.
"You could be killed! And what then? They'd have to go on without you!" Gilbert was desperately struggling to get through to his stubborn younger brother. All of this emotional havoc was tearing at him from the inside out. It was only a matter of time before the young man snapped.
"As long as I attempt, I can die with a somewhat peaceful conscience. If I sit here I will never be able to live with myself. I'm going to die trying," Ludwig said.
"You're my little brother, Ludwig. I told Dad that I'd take care of you!" Gilbert reasoned.
"I'm not a child anymore. There is no need for you to look after me. I can take care of myself."
"But you're my little brother all the same! When will you get that through your thick head? I care about you, idiot! You're not thinking straight right now! They're my family, too! I don't know what I'd do if I lost all of you or even one of you!" Gilbert could see that his logic wasn't getting through to the stubborn blonde.
Ludwig was about to retort but a knock at the door made the words freeze on Ludwig's tongue. Gilbert impatiently answered the door, demanding what the visitor wanted.
"My name is Michael, I'm with the Italian police. I've been told Ludwig Bielschmidt currently resides here," the man at the door said.
"What business is it of yours?" Gilbert challenged.
"I just need to ask him some harmless questions, that's all. It regards the abduction of his family," Michael put up both hands as a sign of peace. "You may stick around just so I can prove to you that I have no ulterior motive."
Gilbert's eyes narrowed, "What information do you have?"
"First I'd like Ludwig to come out so I don't have to repeat myself, if it's all the same to you," the Italian held his hands behind his back, clearly annoyed with the platinum blonde man.
"Yo, Ludwig, this guy is here to see you," Gilbert called back inside the house, never taking his eyes off the mysterious officer.
"Ja?" Ludwig made it absolutely clear that he was not in the mood for this.
"I'm sure you remember me, Mr. Bielschmidt," Michael stuck his hand out to shake.
Gilbert scoffed inwardly, thinking, Stupid prick didn't shake my hand.
"Yes. Michael, right?" Ludwig shook it.
"Correct. Well I'm here because I have information regarding your family," Michael explained. "We believe that we may have discovered their location. It's right here in Germany but the trip is a long one. If you wish to accompany me in the investigation so when we recover your family and you can immediately see them, I'm going to give you by the end of the week to pack up what you need. I have other errands to run which is another reason there's such a large time span."
By the look on Ludwig's face, Michael continued, "It's a take it or leave it offer."
"Fine," the German turned away.
"Glad to know that we've come to an agreement," Michael smiled. "I'll see you soon. Be ready."
The Italian man left, leaving the brothers alone once again.
"Ludwig," Gilbert pulled the man to the side, whispering harshly. "What do you think you're doing making a deal with this man?"
"I'm going to find my family," Ludwig answered plainly. "What are you doing?"
Gilbert ignored the sarcastic remark, "I don't trust this guy. He's bad news."
"When did you start acting so logical?" Ludwig tore his arm away.
"When you started acting like an idiot!" the shorter of the two retorted.
"I'm going. Whether you come or not is your choice."
"No. I think I'm going to sit this one out."
"Makes no difference to me," Ludwig then retired to his room for the night.
Breathe. Just keep breathing. Don't let it get to you. It's not real! It's not real! Feliciano repeated inside his head where there were horrible images of his family being mutilated and murdered. Their screams reverberated throughout his entire body.
Camille giggled, sending another image into the fragile Italian's mind. Feliciano yelled in terror, trying to wipe away the "blood" that was splattering on his face and the tears that burned his eyes.
"Stop! Please!" Feliciano begged, soaking the blindfold with salty tears. "Stop! Stop it!"
"That'll be enough for the day, Camille. Anymore and he might pass out. We don't want that, especially with his daughter watching," Marcello ordered.
Feliciano fell over to the side, crying amongst the filth, weakened both mentally and physically. Sienna, with eyes glazed over by fresh tears, tried calling out to her mom again. She couldn't bear watching Feliciano crumple into a messy heap on the floor. The Italian was shaking visibly even in the dim light.
What could she do? She was powerless in this situation! She wished her dad was here to get them out of this mess. He would know what to do. He always knew what to do.
