Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters; those belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. All credit to creepypastas has been given to their respective owners. If a story has been credited to an anonymous person and you know/are the author, please let me know so I can make the correction (and be honest). Thank you!

"How you managed to scare yourself with your own story again is beyond me," groaned Germany.

"I'm sorry!" whimpered a crying Italy, and he hurried to the wall his friend was leaning against.

"Well, I guess it's understandable. I'd be a bit freaked out by a stalker too."

"I don't know, Bulgaria, I thought he was something worse than a stalker," muttered Cuba.

"You mean a psychopath?" wondered Thailand.

"A murderer?" suggested Monaco.

"Russia?" asked Moldova.

A beat of awkward and confused silence followed that. "…Let's agree with psychopathic murderer," said Romania, giving a concerned glance at his little brother.

"You know, quite a few of our stories seemed to focus on those kinds of guys," Taiwan observed, "What do you suppose is going on in their heads as they commit their heinous acts?"

"My guess is nothing," India commented rather indifferently.

"Nothing?" Poland looked at him, incredulous.

"Actually, I think I have to side with him," said New Zealand, "In fact, I'd say they're really only aware of themselves during their brief moments of sanity…"

Wanted

Based off of "Home Alone"
Credited to its anonymous author

You are hanging out tonight with some buddies. You grin with anticipation about the party you'll shortly be attending, your sort of rite of passage into university.

"Be careful," your brother tells you as you sit stilly but anxiously in the passenger seat. Since he has errands to run tonight he figured he'd drop you off. "And be safe. University students can be crazy, so be prepared for just about anything."

You tease him for his fatherly attitude. Your brother smirks as he pulls up to the curb.

"Just promise me you won't do something stupid like get so drunk you pass out."

So you promise you won't do something that stupid…

…And you do something that stupid. Next thing you know you're waking up on the floor in the hallway to the kitchen. Drool is creeping down your face, and you hasten to wipe it away. You can't even remember the trip back home. You know a friend had to have brought you home since that was the plan, but at what point during the party did you all decide to leave?

Okay, better question: what exactly happened at the party? Why can you remember so little of it?

A sinking feeling seeps into your stomach. You shake it off, however. No, you probably just proved to the entire world last night that you couldn't hold your liquor. Humiliating, yeah, but nothing to be worried about. Right?

Since class starts in four hours, best to have some breakfast now. You flip on the television as you prepare yourself some food. The morning news is on, but you tune out the noise as you cook.

That is until they mention a certain street name. In fact, it's the very same street the party was held. You pay closer attention to the words.

"…four dead and three others injured last night. Authorities are saying the killer stabbed at the partygoers, many of whom were drunk or incapacitated. A neighbor managed to capture a picture of the perpetrator as they fled the scene, though police have still not located them. If you have any information on this person, please call…"

But you are more interested in the picture. No, this…this couldn't be right. How could—

You hear a noise outside. Quietly, you go see what it is. As you pass a window by the garage you halt. Looking past the glass's reflective surface, you see the killer staring straight back at you. Your heart races as you turn away. This can't be true! You run for the phone. You can fix this! You pick up the phone. If you hadn't—

What are you saying? Absolutely none of this was your fault. But regardless, how could you ever think of turning in your own brother?