I don't have anything interesting to say ._. Um... Enjoy?
I don't own Hetalia!

Chapter 3
We'll kill them all

Exhaustion had forced the darkness to relinquish its grip on Italy. It was better that it was always as strong as it could be so that it had no trouble killing when the time came. Italy was truly thankful that it preferred to rest at certain points of the day; it let Italy rest too. Unfortunately however, rest wasn't the same as sleep in the case of the darkness. It was fully aware that Italy might try something rash if left alone, so it remained dimly aware of what Italy was doing.

Currently, Italy was sitting in the bathroom on the cool tile floor. And as usual he was doing something stupid and impulsive, and the darkness was having none of it. Italy had retrieved a knife from the kitchen behind Germany's back. The darkness hadn't protested to this, it only kept Italy from letting the cool metal touch his delicate skin. Each time he would bring the knife down on his wrist, the darkness would force him to drop the knife, or snap his hand away from his wrist. It was a full-time job, trying to keep Italy alive.

Inhabiting a dead body was not as nice as controlling a young lively one such as Italy. Not even the darkness could keep a body from rotting and smelling. It was always an ordeal. Plus, if Italy died and the darkness had no one to escape into, he would be trapped in Italy's grave with him. Again, not fun.

Italy knew the darkness wanted him alive, but something in him begged him to find a way to end it before he killed again. Before he killed someone even closer to him; Germany. He had already let it kill his brother, and he refused to let Germany fall to the same fate at Italy's hand. It was highly unfortunate that the darkness wouldn't let him just die already. But secretly, he was almost thankful for the way it stopped him before he could do anything: despite whatever Italy said, he didn't really want to die. He was afraid of the pain he'd seen his victims in before their deaths. He hated their screams as much as the presence loved them.

Italy shuddered slightly as the darkness shifted within him, as if trying to settle. He stood and left the bathroom, leaving the unsoiled knife on the bathroom counter. He carefully descended the stairs, feeling the darkness relax inside him now that he was out of harm's way. Italy sighed inwardly upon seeing Germany, still sitting in the kitchen with the same stoic expression as when Italy had burst into the house and disappeared up the stairs without explanation.

"C-ciao, Germany..." Italy greeted him nervously, silently damning the stutter that betrayed his nervous state.

"Italy." Germany returned the greeting politely, but his voice shook slightly; fear, worry? Italy couldn't place it "Would you care to explain something to me?"

"S-sure..." Italy tried to plaster his usual smile on his face, but instead he found himself trembling ever so slightly.

"I just got a phone call." Germany began, shifting uncomfortably.

"Si, and?" Italy prompted.

"It was from France." Germany told him plainly, causing Italy to stiffen noticeably.

Italy opened his mouth to say something, but the words to make Germany understand died on his tongue and all that came out was a weak "Si"

"He said..." Germany began, his voice faltering halfway through what he was trying to say "He just said your name, and then said kill. I'm truly worried for you..."

Italy's shoulders slumped with relief. France hadn't told Germany anything. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Italy had lost sight of the difference "Was he cut off?" He questioned innocently, trying to put fear rather than guilt in his voice "I hope big brother France is alright..."

"I hope so too," He agreed quickly, brushing off the worry. Italy somehow felt he didn't really care about France "But is there any way you could explain why he said your name?" Germany asked.

"I'm not sure." He lied softly, unsure of why France hadn't ratted him out "Ve... You don't think that... the murderer got him, do you?"

"I don't know. As much as I hated to do it, I called England to see if he knew where France was, but he didn't seem to have any idea" Germany explained to his Italian friend.

Italy's vision blurred with unshed tears, more out of guilt than any form of sorrow. He trembled violently, then collapsed into Germany's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Italy had barely shown any sort of emotion towards the murders before except for a painful, distant demeanor, which Germany had assumed was shock. He wrapped his arms awkwardly around his friend, trying to soothe him even if the task was impossible.

"Ve! Germany!" Italy sobbed "You have to help me!" He looked up at his friend, his eyes open and tear-filled.

Germany wasn't sure what to say, so he ran his fingers through his friend's hair "Shh. It's okay, Italy. I'm here for you. I'll do whatever I can for you."

Italy felt the darkness stirring inside him, ready to act. It was hard to bring himself to care "Then do the world a favor and kill—" Italy felt an invisible force clamp a hand over his mouth, and all Italy could do was stare pleadingly up at his German friend.

"Kill? Kill who, Italy? Do you know who's been killing nations?" He demanded, trying to keep his voice calm for the sake of his friend.

Italy wished he could nod his head, but the darkness kept a firm clamp around his neck and mouth, keeping him from making the slightest movement or the smallest noise. Italy could do nothing but hope Germany understood. Of course that was too much to hope for.

"Italy?" He questioned softly.

"No." Italy heard himself say "I'm just scared..." Italy shuddered at his own voice, because it wasn't his when the darkness used it; the darkness made it sound cold and indifferent. The presence made everything as dark as itself.

"We're all scared, Italy." Germany comforted his friend before taking a step back "Go clean yourself up, I'm going to call England and see if he had any luck finding France."

Italy nodded and hesitantly headed back up the stairs, feeling the force that kept his mouth shut and his body frozen lifting and giving him control over himself again. He slipped into the bathroom and splashed water on his face, listening to Germany downstairs. England must have been practically screaming into the phone because Italy could hear him from all the way upstairs. He had surely have found them, or someone else must have. Either way everyone knew they were dead now. Three more names to add to the victim list. And it wasn't like it was stopping anytime soon either. Italy couldn't help but feel that he might soon be alone, and it scared him more than anything else. Even more than losing Germany.

He gently closed the door, quieting the frantic voices from downstairs and letting silence rush in to fill the air. He stared at the mirror blankly and reached out a hand to touch the hollow reflection in front of him, barely recognizing himself under the unnaturally pale skin that clung to his bones, bringing his malnutrition to center stage. His reflection smiled dully back at him, as if mocking him. He flinched back with a hoarse cry, throwing a fist towards the reflective surface in fear, and sending a spiderweb of cracks through the mirror in a shower of light as shards fell and broke into thousands of smaller pieces where his fist made contact with the shiny surface.

Much to his satisfaction the presence flinched inside him, as if it hadn't been expecting him to try anything. Perhaps he had moved too unpredictably for it to stop him. The thought brought him some form of comfort; that he could do things without it stopping him... was somehow nice. He heard the sound of footsteps rushing towards the door and sighed as he plucked a shard of glass from his bloodied hand. He felt a tear slide down his cheek and opened the door a crack to see a startled Germany hurrying towards the door.

"Italy!" He sounded relieved "What happened, are you hurt?" Upon spotting Italy's hand he snatched it away from him "Your hand!" Italy was in more pain over Germany's worried tone than his hand. He had no idea...

Italy calmly tugged his hand out of Germany's grasp "Ve~ I accidentally broke the mirror." It wasn't a full lie at least.

Germany frowned "You...accidentally...broke a mirror...with your fist?" He asked skeptically.

"Si!" Italy confirmed.

"Hm, well let's get you bandaged up." Germany grabbed his shoulder and forced him back into the bathroom to fix up his hand. Germany tried to ignore the bloody mess left by the mirror breaking and focused on fixing up Italy "There we go, be more careful, ja?" The german's searching gaze didn't miss the knife on the counter, and he made a mental note of it.

"Si..." Italy agreed reluctantly.

"Good, now go rest or something, you look horrible..." Germany grumbled, glancing around in a shifty manner.

"Doistu, are you hiding something from me?" Italy half-asked, half-accused, yet it wasn't a question, because Italy knew exactly what he was hiding.

Germany heaved a sigh "I thought you might notice...I-I don't know how to tell you this... It's—there's been another murder..."

Italy trembled slightly, because he already knew the three names that he would say with a heavy heart "Who?"

"Austria and Hungary." Germany told him gently, and his voice was so sad and hollow and-

-Not France? Italy stiffened and barely kept himself from flinching or swearing "Did England find France?" He asked in a dull and hopeless voice "I hope he's okay... I don't think I could stand him being dead too..."

"England was checking everywhere for him; when he got no answer at Austria's house he went ahead and let himself in. You can piece together what happened next..." Germany's voice was catching in his throat, making his pain and mourning obvious.

Could that mean that France was still alive after all? The thought sent both fear and hope surging through Italy, but mostly fear. Before he could speak again, Germany continued "We think that it was France." He told Italy suddenly "Because England did find a bloody rose next to Hungary, we don't know what could have caused this. I'm scared he might come after you next, Italy..." He was talking more to himself than Italy by this point.

"No! You're wrong!" Italy cut him off with a sob, surprised at his own fierceness "He isn't the killer!"

"What makes you so sure, Italy?" He asked, carefully phrasing the question. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Italy further.

"Because I'm—" The invisible hand clamped down over his mouth again. He smiled sadly at his German friend, as if asking for forgiveness before he pushed past him, unwilling to let himself be near his friend when the darkness came out to play "Because I just know..." He said quietly to himself, the faintest echo of a smile pulling at his lips.

"Wait! Italy! Italia!" Germany tried to catch him before he slipped out the door. It was in vain as it always was.

Remember the man we met yesterday that didn't recognize you? Of course you do. Let him be next, along with the rest who didn't recognize you. We'll kill them all.

The more the darkness used the words us and we, the more Italy believed it. Was it really worth fighting in the end?

Editing this chapter was very tedious, so if I missed something, or a sentence is really awkward, please feel free to point it out! I could use the help c: No beta-reader yet. Suggestions and ideas are always welcome!