Peter awoke in a dark room. He moved to turn on the light when he realized he couldn't. He couldn't move at all. Memories from the past day flooded into his mind, and he almost screamed at the vividly, bloodily painted pictures in his mind's eye. The voice inside him sniggered. I could've thrown them off for you, but you didn't let me so I thought I would remind you why I'm here, said the voice. Shut the fuck up! Peter yelled inwardly, this is your fault! Peter struggled against his straightjacket and gave up after rolling a couple of feet and hitting a padded wall multiple times.
The door creaked as it opened and a bright white light shone out of the crack. A nurse walked in with another needle, full of a sloshing clear liquid. Peter managed to sit up and scoot farther from the door before the nurse was fully into the room. Glaring at the nurse, Peter shook off the gag. Spitting out some rouge threads, he let out a long, creative stream of curse words in the poor nurse's direction, who staggered backward in shock, wondering how the hell a thirteen year old knew all those words.
"What's going on in here?" yelled a voice from down the hall. The sound of running feet grew louder and louder until they ceased as the person stopped behind the nurse. Peter leaned against the padded wall and pushed himself to a standing position.
"Bloody hell, who the fuck knows all those curse words?" the owner of the voice said as the nurse moved aside.
Peter's eyes widened as he took in the man before him. A man who looked like an older version of Peter.
Peter lunged at his older brother, fury written all over Peter's face.
Arthur, startled, instinctively braced himself as Peter flung himself at Arthur. LEMME AT 'EM! screamed the voice inside Peter. Peter gave in.
His personality changed.
Now, Peter's face had a malicious smile in place of the ugly grimace he had worn before, and a wicked laugh tore itself from Peter's throat.
Arthur jumped into the hallway, knowing that sound all too well. It was the sound of something less than human, far cleverer, far more evil…
And that owned nothing close to sanity at all.
The panicked nurse yelled for help, as Peter charged Arthur again and again, buffeting him with anything Peter could use, including an unabridged version of the verbal abuse directed at the nurse before.
All this Arthur took in.
Then, the insane one was off of him, and Arthur stood up, panting, scratches on his face and neck bleeding.
Peter flailed around as the other orderlies tried to restrain him, as the nurse tried to administer the sedative via needle.
"YOU BASTARD," Peter screamed in Arthur's general direction as the nurse pushed the needle into Peter's arm. Arthur flinched, knowing that there would be more to come, but the sedative took effect and Peter drifted off, angry tears seeping from behind his eyelids.
Arthur turned and walked away from the hellish scene.
~Many hours later~
Arthur wearily unlocked the door to his flat, his shoes scuffing along the doormat as he shuffled in through the doorway.
"Arthur!" yelled a certain blonde American as he glomped his overworked lover.
"Ow, OW! You git, get off of me!" Arthur said, staggering backward a couple steps. He managed to push Alfred off of him before he heard a familiar annoying laugh.
"OHONHONHONHONHON~ YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD GET AWAY FROM ME, MON AMOUR-" exclaimed a certain Frenchman right before Arthur punched him full force.
"YOU BLOODY FROG, HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET IN HERE?" Arthur screamed with rage.
"Oh, mon amour, little Alfie let me in, of course!"
"I AM NOT YOUR LOVE!"
"Ma petite Anglias tarte~"
"I AM NOT YOUR LITTLE ENGLISH TART EITHER, YOU BASTARD!"
"Ohonhonhon, it's not like you could make one, either~!"
"GRAAAAA!"
Sometimes, I wonder who's actually knowing what they're saying, thought Alfred.
I know it's late and short! Don't kill me!
Anyway, just wanted to say: 5 reviews=next chapter!
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