Mein Ewiger Fehler

I DON"T OWN ANYTING, HENCE FANFICTION

Germany walked through the dirty streets that were tarnished with dried blood and other things. He couldn't believe it. Years ago it was a lively city where children jumped, played and sang all day. Now no one sang, for there was nothing to say. No one jumped, unless they were dodging bullets. No one played, after all games were not wanted when there was a war, only a few years after the first one devastated Germany. Little, almost no time to heal, and this war was much worse.

He locked himself in his room, away from his boss, and he couldn't disobey his orders. How he hated him, his boss ordered the deaths of so many of Germany's people. He was forced to kill countless men, women, and children. Germany hated every second of this war, no, of this massacre. He laid down on his bed trying to shove the images out of his head. When he was forced to kill they looked at him with fear, mercy, hate, and betrayal. Their screams clawed his ears, shattered his mind. The overwhelming guilt and self-hatred were crushing him. Italy and Japan hated seeing him like this, but they couldn't help, since they're bosses were constantly ordering them.

There was a loud banging on the door. It was his boss.

"…Sterben Sie Nur Schon…" He muttered in despair. His boss kicked the door in and forced him to a camp. Germany nearly screamed when he saw them, all skin and bones. His boss shoved a pistol in his hand and ordered him to shoot, telling him he's cleansing the German race by killing them. He gritted his teeth and turned to point the gun at his boss. Another solider knocked the gun out of his hand and pushed Germany into the ground and beat him until he couldn't tell if he was alive or not. He managed to lift his head up just enough so he could see the same solider kill the others. The stench of rotting bodies thrown into pits like broken toys, the scent of fresh blood in the air, and it brought him closer and closer to insanity.

He was forced to kill again when he could move. A small child was pushed in front of him. He dropped his arm and took a step back, and shook with anger and hatred. Another solider pushed him down and forced him to watch as they shot the child, twice in the head, once in the chest. Heat washed through Germany. It burned his body, his mind, and his soul. His mind was forever tainted by this slaughter. The solider forced the gun into his hand, and he refused to pull the trigger. The solider tried to take it back, but Germany wouldn't hand it over to see more of his people die. They wrestled with it then, the gun went off. Germany screamed and collapsed. It had shot him in the leg. He clutched at the wound and looked into those faces, those faces that secretly smiled at his pain when this happened.

He was taken home and he locked himself in again. He sobbed tearless, broken sobs. He couldn't save any of them no matter how hard he tried. He wanted to end this. End the suffering and the pain. And end it now.

The gun. He thought. He picked up his head and looked at his desk. There sitting on top of the glossy brown finish was a pistol. He slowly sat up.

If I die, the pain will stop, my people will stop suffering. They won't suffer…won't suffer. The more Ludwig thought about it, the better it sounded. He slowly walked over to the desk and picked up the gun.

Amazing that this little piece of metal has killed so many people. He brought the gun to his left temple and shut his eyes.

Ich Muss Fur meine Verbrechen Sterben. He grinned as he put his finger to the trigger. Then the door swung open.

"GERMANY!" Italy pushed him and tore the gun out of his hands. Ludwig hit his head when he fell. He went into unconsciousness.

"Promettermi che lei non fara mai cio di nuovo." Those were the first words Ludwig heard when he woke up. Italian. Italy.

Italy saved me from killing myself. He thought. He looked to his left. Italy was sitting next to him, big tears running down his face.

"Ludwig…" Germany gritted his teeth.

I'm still alive. My people are still suffering. My people are still dying. He growled. He wished Italy hadn't saved him. He glared at the sobbing, fragile Italian.

"Feliciano," Italy threw his arms around Ludwig.

"I can't believe that you actually tried to kill…how…why? You're my best friend…I thought you were stronger than this." Germany gritted his teeth.

"Italy, you don't know how this feels!" Italy let go and leaned back.

"I feel their pain, every single one. It feels like I'm killing a piece of me…to look in their eyes, and feel so helpless…to watch those…bastards kill them and torture them…until they waste away…" Germany watched the color fade from Italy's bright amber eyes.

"You're right. I don't know how it feels to loose so many of my people. To kill them and see them in such a horrible state." Ludwig gritted his teeth listening to Feliciano.

"But I know what it's like to see my best friend in a horrible state. It tears me up that I can't help you as much as I want to. It hurts me to see you suffering like this. You tried to kill yourself. I know that you're a strong solider, but you have all of us, Gilbert, Mr. Roderich, Honda, and me… so why… how could you want to kill yourself?" Ludwig looked at Italy with an empty look in his eyes.

"It's simple, Italy. It's because I already feel dead." Italy looked down he knew he couldn't convince Ludwig to stop his struggles with this war. Germany stood up and walked towards the door.

"Ivan's troops will be at the Reichstag soon. You know how heavily armed they are." Ludwig stopped in his tracks.

"Why are you telling me this, Felix?" Italy walked out of the room, but as he brushed by Germany he muttered something.

"Just… don't over do it." Germany's eyes widened. He ran out of the building. He ran though the streets of Berlin. He kept running until his feet ached and bleed, and kept running.

Italy… You have no idea how lucky I am…

He ran down the stairs until he saw him.

"What are you doing here?" The man barked at Germany.

"The Russian troops will be here in a matter of minutes." The man got angry.

"Then go fight them off! Now!" Germany gave him a cold look.

"No."

"You dare disobey my orders?" The man yelled.

"I don't acknowledge you as my boss anymore." He reached for the gun strapped to his waist. He pointed it at his boss' head.

"Because you're already dead." He pulled the trigger. One bullet. That's all he needed. He looked at the body; the dead look still in Ludwig's eyes.

"I have destroyed my eternal mistake."

He walked out of the room. Italy had killed his old boss as well, that's why he told Germany not to overdo things. You can loose yourself in revenge. He thought for a second. All those people, all of them, have been avenged. It was over.

"Hah…ha ha…" Germany was over come with the sense of justice. He stood there laughing like a madman until he felt a gun press into his side.

"Ludwig. It's over." He looked at the man.

"Ja, and I couldn't be more satisfied with the ending, Ivan." Russia looked confused for a second but he shook it off. For Germany, he was finally able to rest knowing that the slaughter was over.