Ciao, my name is Lovino Vargas.

I'm a farmer and waiter at my Nonno's restaurant. Speaking of Nonno, he's sitting under me; holding myself and my little brother Feliciano on his lap as Feli's wails echo through the room. They are the only sound in the room that seems to be made of black. I can't see anything, and can only feel Nonno's chest against my back.

We're lucky whoever grabbed us doesn't care if we make noise, because Feli hasn't shut up since we were taken.

Before I could shuffle over to my brother and comfort him like Nonno was, the door to the room we were in opened. Two tall figures walk over and tower over us, which isn't too difficult considering we're sitting on the floor.

"Which one of you is Lovino Vargas?"

The accent isn't hard to place, it's Italian. Why? Why me?

I can't respond, I'm frozen to my grandfather's chest. I feel tears threaten to fall and my whole body shake in fear. Nonno holds us both closer and glares at the men threatening our family, "Who's asking?"

Suddenly, there's a bang; Nonno's hold on us slackens and Feliciano's wails turn into screams of fear and anguish. I dare a glance at Nonno's face to find blood, and a new hole between his eyes. I can't take my eyes off his face; he's going to be whisper comforts to us again… He has to… PLEASE! HE HAS TO!

I can't help the whimper that scurries past my trembling lips, "N-Nonno?"

A booming voice breaks through Feli's cries, "I won't ask again, Lovino Vargas?"

I can't let them hurt Feli. I can't let them kill my brother too.

I stand, ignoring the screams and wails of my little brother. I stare at the men in the same defiance Nonno had. But the tears and snot smeared all over my face probably weakens the effect. Before I knew it, I'm in front of a wooden door shaking.

"Go in there"

What's in there?

Are they going to kill me too?

What's going on?

I open the door slowly to see two men wearing balaclavas. It's a cliché dark room with a table carrying two glasses of wine in front of two chairs.

One holds a seat out, "Take a seat"

He sounds Spanish. On his accent alone, since that's all I have to go off.

To avoid getting myself or my brother into trouble, I sit on the seat and tuck it in behind the table.

Don't sip the wine, I know this trick.

Get them to drink, drag their near dead body out to the middle of nowhere.

The man that held out my seat stands behind me as the other sits across from me and sips his wine. It's to make me believe mine isn't poisoned or something, but I'm not falling for it. I try to keep as calm as I can and not look afraid, any vulnerability and they will take advantage of it.

"Lovino Vargas, big mafia lap dog of Italy right?"

The one across from me, Italian, leans over in interest; interest in my past.

Goddamnit, I thought I left that all in Italy and yet it followed me here.

"I might be"

"Not as big as his boss Romulus Vargas right?"

I glare at him for even daring to say Nonno's full name. He doesn't deserve to utter such a name with pride, "You just killed him, not me. So, I guess I am the big boss now"

"So his debt falls to you"

With that, the Spanish man puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes to prove his strength, "Debt? We paid them all"

I'm not lying, we paid them all before running away. We didn't want them to follow us… We didn't want Feliciano to find out.

"Funny, your Grandpa owed mine. But then, my grandpa died"

"Then, what are you doing with me? I owe you nothing"

The Italian laughs softly and sips his wine once again, "you said so yourself, you're the big boss now"

I grit my teeth as I know it's the truth. He's using my own words against me, coaxing the right ones to use first. "How big is the debt? Let my brother and I back to the restaurant and we can get the money to you"

Suddenly, the Spaniard has my hands pinned to the table and my back arched in an awkward position so I can't move. Keeping calm is becoming so much harder with each breath I feel roll down my neck since he has his own body on mine to restrain me.

"Let you go? No, you know how this works Lovino," The Italian stands and walks over, running a finger over my knuckles, "we keep you until someone close to you gives us our money. We just need to put you in danger to give them incentive"

I struggle as much as I can, pulling against the Spaniards hands as hard as I can. I can't keep calm anymore.

I have to get out!

I have to run!

Run away!

WHY CAN'T I RUN!?

I hear a Spanish accent by my ear in amongst my panic, "Awww, how cute"

I can't breathe

My chest! It hurts!

The door, it opens. It closes.

Someone else is in the room, will they help me?!

"Ah Fratello, just in time, I've picked some"

I hear a higher-pitched Italian speak with cruel undertones, "Which ones?"

Which what!?

WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT!?

"Left, ring and pinkie"

…. M-My fingers?

I finally find my voice again, but it's full of panic, "L-LET ME GO! PLEASE!"

"I'm not getting blood on my new clothes, you enjoy Luci!"

Door opens, closes.

Someone's left.

I'm doomed.

With a chuckle, I hear a thud of metal shake the table my body is forced onto. "Don't worry, we're only taking two; you'll have eight left."

I close my eyes.

This is a dream, it has to be.

That's all that's running through my head.

As the tears pour down my face.

As I feel the cold metal against my left pinkie finger.

Up until…

There is a suddenly snip and pain shoots up my arm.

I open my eyes to find blood pouring out of my hand, shaking in agony and chest tightening.

I-It's gone. It's gone! IT'S GONE!

I can't do anything, but scream, and struggle harder.

The Italian gets the device ready to cut my ring finger off as the Spaniard holds my tighter in an attempt to stop my moving.

With another scream, that one's gone too and the world fades to darkness.

…

Hello, my name is Matthew, Matthew Williams…

Ok, legally it's Matthew Kirkland but I prefer to go by Matthew Williams in a social situation.

I'm in a police cruiser.

Um!

Not because I did anything wrong or anything, I'm a negotiator for the MIT with my brothers. In fact, my adoptive big brother Arthur is the one driving next to me.

As in, in the same car as me n-not in a separate car.

We're heading to the Bielschmidt household to talk about Lovino Vargas' attack on them a couple of months ago. Apparently it was just focussed on the younger brother, Ludwig, and then it continued to the older brother, Gilbert, when he tried to get involved.

The younger brother hadn't been arrested, however there have been complaints against the older in bars. Police had been called but only to calm the situation, no arrests made.

As the car slows to a halt, I look at the house. A very plain, but charming house. Definitely big enough to house two fully grown men.

Arthur gets out of the car and leads me to the front door, "Ok, we have to try and not give the wrong idea. They are not suspects, we just would like to know more"

Before I could respond, the front door swings open and I'm on the ground, looking up into bright red eyes. They stared back in shock as the one behind those eyes' mouth opened and closed in a failed attempt at apologizing.

Heat rushed to my face, letting me know I was going a vibrant shade of red, "I-I'm sorry sir."

Everything stopped for a moment, before the man got off me with a chuckle, "Nah, my fault. No need to apologize"

I take his open hand to help me stand up again. The blush on my face is still so prominent, "I-I'm sorry"

Arthur is currently staring at us annoyed, as if human interaction is the most irritating thing he had ever seen.

"Brother, leave the police alone."

The stern German voice radiates from a blond, muscular young man watching us from the front door. The red-eyed man, which I'm guessing is his brother, says grinning widely, "It wasn't me, honest!"

…..

The blonde man, Ludwig, across from me shakes his head in disbelief.

His older brother, Gilbert, has an arm around him for comfort. "I know it's hard to hear Mr. Bielschmidt, but I need you to answer questions in relation to your relationship with the Vargas'"

Matthew, sitting next to me, gives the boys a sympathetic look. I wait for his signal to let me know they will be fine with my questions. The younger Bielschmidt nods as the older one glares at me. Probably for my lack of care for their emotions.

"We have filed that Lovino Vargas attacked you a while ago, over a relationship I presume?"

Ludwig began to blush, and somehow the well-built man seemed to shrink and curl in on himself slightly in embarrassment, "U-Um, this is true."

"What kind of relationship do you have with Feliciano Vargas?"

Ludwig's blush grew and he seemed to fidget slightly, "W-We are… um, good friends"

The question, obviously embarrasses him. Are they just close friends? Either way, "Mr. Bielschmidt, your behaviour indicates that you had a very close relationship with Mr. Vargas. Is this the reason his brother attacked?"

Both brothers nod without hesitation. Though the answer to that question already seemed fairly obvious. "Do you know someone who didn't like them?"

The older, Gilbert, spoke up harshly, "Not many people liked Lovino. He's... hard to get along with. However his little brother-"A smile crossed his face as his voice seemed to soften, "Feliciano was like a gift from heaven. Made to make you smile."

Both brothers seem fond of the younger, so placing him in any danger would not be in their best interest. However by the way they speak about the older, they couldn't seem to care less about his safety. Is that enough to take the suspicion further?

"And your feelings on their grandfather?"

The younger pipes up, not showing any real emotion, "He's a strange old man that means no harm. Not much else to say about him."

Not enough to prove these men would put the family in harm's way. They seem neutral about the grandfather and love the younger brother. Putting them in harm's way doesn't benefit them.

"Anyone the Vargas' tried to avoid? For a reason unexplained?" Maybe they had made their enemies before meeting the Bielschmidts. I hope the Bielschmidts notice something.

"Well, there was one café they refused to go anywhere near." The younger furrows his brow in thought as he speaks. Memory working in our favour, "Feliciano said it just creeps them out looking at the shop."

"Know what it's called, or where we can find it?"

The older grins, eyes full of mischief that leads me to be wary on whether to believe him or not, "It's my favourite place to hang out sober, it's called Cyanide Cupcake"

A snort leaves my nose before I can stop it, muffled laughter only just escaping my lips as the German's mouth turns into a scowl.

Can you blame me for laughing? It sounds like a bakery for children.

"I-I'm sorry, never heard of it."

The older pulls out his wallet and hands over a business card of sorts, "Here's the address, the owner is a bit weird though."

…..

Oh my god.

Arthur laughed at a suspect.

WHY!?

Oh dear god!

And why him!?

I feel like screaming at him.

He gets into the cruiser as I turn to Gilbert, who seems to enjoy glaring at Arthur. "I-I'm sorry h-he laughed at y-you Mr. Bielschmidt"

Gilbert grins at me, His once intimidating teeth seeming goofy now, "Ah, it's not your fault. Sorry you have to work with him"

A soft laugh leaves my lips as my phone calls to me from my pocket. I wave at Gilbert as I turn and pull out said device, "Hello?"

"Dude, Mr Spanish guy called and requested you" Alfred speaks with determination that almost scares me. He doesn't sound like his usual energetic self, more serious.

"Why? What's happened?"

….

Hola, my name is Antonio.

I work at my best friends' grandpa's farm. Only the farming bit, usually the kitchen is reserved for Feli and Romulus. Sometimes I would wait tables with Lovi, but usually he doesn't let me.

I'm currently keeping an eye on their restaurant for them until they get back…..

If they come back.

I tend to the fields and clean up the outside dining area while letting anyone who tries to come to eat that we're currently closed until further notice. I like working, it keeps my mind off of everything.

Work work work.

Well, the fruits have been watered. What's next on the list? Hmmm

Ah, I know!

Mail!

I make my way over to the box, smiling and drinking in the heat of the sun as I go. I love the smell of outside, the feel of the breeze and even the burning of the sun. It's the only way to feel life.

Though, there's a weird smell in the air. It gets stronger as I get to the mailbox.

I don't think I've ever caught this scent before.

It's so, meaty and rotten.

As I stand over the box itself, I feel tears build up in my eyes. What is in it!? What is that stench!?

My whole body is shaking, in disgust. The urge to run away was growing, but I also can't stop myself from wondering what is in there that smalls so bad I want to run?

I reach for the top of the box, and slowly pull it open.

What I find is a yellow, manilla folder and nothing else. Nothing's written on it and there's no stamp, suggesting it wasn't sent through the post.

I know this is where the scent is coming from and I'm not game enough to put it to my nose to check.

My curiosity forces me, to open the folder.

I peek inside.

My body shakes more.

I drop the folder.

I scream.