Wrench
I hate how hard it is to clean one off. It's not like my pickaxe which I can just wipe off and it's clean. No it's more like my pipe and needs to be cleaned with bleach. But even then the stains don't always fade like I would hope. Some of it I don't mind, like the thin specks on the right side since America deserved it when I hit him across the face.
It was a sight to see with him holding his jaw hoping that the two teeth I knocked out would grow back. Then I was proud of what I did but these knew specks that coat it aren't right. They weren't gained from attacking an idiot that deserved it but in a moment of anger.
No matter how hard I scrub those stains refuse to leave in fact a few have grown in size. But I can't throw it away. I've tried a few times in the past but it's always returned to me. Tonight is no different as I try to clean away a new stain it seems to grow. It covers the small specks on the right side as it starts to ooze down the handle.
I let it sink into the tub I have in front of me. To my surprise the water turns a dark crimson while the wretch remains red. "Why?" I ask throwing it to the floor.
It bounces leaving a red stain on the floor below. As I look down at my hand I can't help but think it must be America's doing. Yet a part of me knows why it's haunted me.
"Ivan why? We can get help we don't have to suffer alone." She said as she begged me to tell the other nations. "It hurts so much-" I silenced her with the wrench in my hand. I didn't mean to do it but she had to learn that the others couldn't know about my government or what they were doing.
Now like my sister those years before it's leaving stains where ever it lands. It's trying to tell the world what I've done to her and her people. But I won't let it. I will clean off the blood stains no matter how long it takes.
Whether it wants me to or not...