Hello everyone! Kitty29 Here with the alternative chapter of Murder. I know I said that it was only gonna be a one shot, but I started having ideas for it, and after the power outage over here I wrote up this. Sooooo...I think I might just continue this and go back to it every once in a while ^^

Now this chapter is a bit sick I admit, I actually felt a bit queasy just writing it lol. So those with a weak stomach I don't recommend reading...
This is the Alternative to the last chapter starting about halfway through the last one.

Enjoy and please review.

Ding Dong

The cleaver paused mid swing as the warning bounced off the walls and into his ears. His mind snapped back into reality. That's right. His family was coming over for lunch today. In all his excitement of killing the next victim the appointment had completely slipped his mind. He quickly throw the corpse into the now red bathtub and looked at himself in the mirror. Blood spatter marred his clothes and face but luckily not his hair. Cleaning would only take a few moments.

The ringing only increased tenfold as the clean Canadian made his way to the large oak doors. He unlocked and opened them, revealing the faces of those he grew up with.

"Hey Canada." The representation of America greeted before walking past the owner and into the house, not even waiting to be invited it.

"Canada," England greeted next with the slightest dip of the head. "It's nice to see you again lad." And just like America, he walked right past the blond and into the house.

Canada couldn't help the frown that came across his features when he glanced back at the two nations. It seemed that even politeness was only to be wasted upon him. He wished to be back upstairs with his bloody cleaver.

"Do not mind them." France smiled though it slipped a little when his eyes wondered down to his cheek. "Uh, Canada...you have something on your...I'll get it." France reached forward and swiped the substance off his face.

Blood.

He looked at it for a bit before he smirked and licked the substance off his hands. "Couldn't even wait until we came?"

Canada could do nothing but shrug sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I just grew too excited..."

France shook his head with a laugh before he walked into the building as well. "Oh Matthew, Matthew. Control is a virtue, you know?"

Canada locked the door behind him and smiled. His family knew of his relaxation technique. He told them.

"What? You mean there's a victim? Here?" Alfred couldn't stop the smile that spread on his face. "Awesome! Can we see her?"

In turn they told him theirs. They were all fairly surprised to find that they all had similar techniques.

Canada nodded. "Sure, she's just upstairs." He led the way to the upper floor, the three males following closely behind. It didn't take long to reach the bathroom is which she was laying. He didn't even close the door.

England was the first to step forward and look at the body.

England enjoyed torture. Mostly mental torture though there were some physical elements to it as well. He couldn't explain why he enjoyed it. There was just something about picking apart a persons mind piece by piece that was oddly satisfying. Also watching his victims cry in agony as a saw slowly cut off their legs over a cup of tea never failed to relax.

His nose twitched in disgust. He clearly didn't have the same enthusiasm for dead bodies as his former colony. "A little sloppy on this one don't you think, Matthew?"

Matthew pouted and hung his head. It was true, this one he was just so excited to stab that he didn't spend as much time perfecting it as he did with some of the others.

France walked up to the bathtub, careful to avoid any pools of blood, and glanced inside. "She looks fine, Matheiu." He turned and winked at him and Matthew felt his cheeks heat up at the complaint. France looked back at the girl and clicked his tongue. "She...was quite beautiful. It's a pity she is dead."

France enjoyed rape. It didn't matter if he was the one doing the act or if it was he in turn being the victim. He had explained that being the country of love it was almost a duty to make love to others. And he did. Many, many times in his long life. Frankly, he was bored of it. Rape always seemed to bring something new and exciting. Whither it was a new scream of a new set of nails. Sometimes when England was done with his victims he sent them to France. Though only the ones that still had half a mind to realize when they were in pain and react.

America was the last to look at the body. He didn't walk up to the tub like the other two. No, he quite literally crawled. He didn't seem to care that the act caused his pants to become soiled with crimson. He pulled himself into the bath and placed his knees on each side of the body.

"You know, Mattie." He wiped the drool off his lip before continuing. "You're the only person who gets me just what I want for lunch."

America enjoyed cannibalism. Though he refused to call it that. He was a nation. He didn't eat other nations, just humans. Technically he wasn't a cannibal—was his excuse. He explained that he particularly enjoyed eating his own people. Said that it gave back some of the strength that they had 'stolen' from him for simply being alive. Though even if they weren't American he still enjoyed it. It certainly wasn't like him to be picky. Canada always saved at least a leg of his victims for his brother. Sometimes even made them into burgers, if the mood stuck.

"Sorry she's a bit wet, Alfred." Canada apologized. "I wanted to wash her before you—"

America held up a hand to stop him, his eyes never leaving the body. She was plump, tender. Almost too good to be true. "Diseases? STD's?"

Canada shook his head. "No, she's clean. I checked."

America smiled, his eyes shining with hunger. "Epic. Arthur pass me the cleaver."

England wondered how the other knew of the cleaver, seeing as he never took his eyes off the body. Nevertheless, he picked the bloodied object off the ground and handed it to the eager male. America wasted no time in slicing himself a hearty slab of flesh. He throw his head back and dangled the meat above his mouth, briefly finding amusement in trying to catch the droplets of crimson before he lowered it into his mouth. Surprisingly, he didn't devour it like he usually did with food. Rather, he savoured each morsel of it. Making sure to suck off all the blood before allowing any more of it to enter his mouth.

"Ugh, Alfred."

"Mon dieu..."

Both England and France looked away from the blond, the sight leaving them both queasy. Canada was the only one who could stomach watching. Actually, he enjoyed watching. Though his hobby didn't include taste, he could still understand the pure spiritual fulfilment his brother was feeling as each bit of meat passed his lips. So he watched. Watched until the flesh disappeared from sight and America was left licking his fingers, still hungering for more.

"You guys go ahead," America said already slicing his second helping. "I already got my meal right here."

France and England both wasted no time in following what the other suggested. Canada threw one last smile at his brother before he also left.

They were nations. They had seen and lived through more things than one should ever be allowed. They were messed up but not crazy. No, not insane. They had ways to keep themselves going. They had family. They had love. They had ways to relax.

Some of them painted. Some had sex. Arthur Kirkland tortured. Francis Bonnefoy raped. Alfred F. Jones ate people.

Matthew Williams killled.