Snapped! Canada X Reader- Animal I Have Become 4

((A/N: WARNING!!! THIS GETS BLOODY! If you don't like it, don't read it!!))


You heaved at the American’s arms in an attempt to drag him across the floor.

“Jesus, Alfred, how much do you weigh?!” you complained at him. You received only silence in response. “Oh. Right.” His glassy eyes stared up at you in a manner that made your stomach churn. The vacancy in his gaze looked foreign on his face. Every expression he ever made was always so exaggerated; in death he looked like a complete stranger.

You finally managed to tug Alfred onto the bed. You pulled the comforter over him, covering his blood soaked clothes. You gently took off his glasses and closed his eyes.

‘There. Now he could just be sleeping.’ You tilted your head at his, examining him closely.  He didn’t look asleep at all. He was too pale, too restless looking. He wouldn’t wake up and call you first thing in the morning just to bug you. He wouldn’t insist on feeding you crappily made breakfast tacos whilst ranting about his ‘awesome hero-ness’. He was dead. This was just something you needed to come to terms with.

At the foot of his bed lie his leather jacket. It was a little cut up in the shoulder where Alfred was slashed, but it was warm and reminded you of him. You slipped it on, letting it hang loosely off your frame. After examining the room for a weapon, you found Alfred’s pistol kicked under the bed.

‘If I was Alfred,’ you thought to yourself, ‘where would I keep my bullets?’ After you and Alfred had became friends, he started teaching you how to shoot. By this point, you were pretty good at it too. You weren’t exactly a sharpshooter, but if given a straight shot, you could easily send a bullet flying through Matthew’s heart. ‘He’d hide it in a place nobody would think to look.....The library!’ Most people didn’t even know America had a library. The library’s original purpose was to document any important notes from World Meetings, but he also kept a wide variety of superhero comics and Shonen manga.

Then it hit you. ‘Fuck. The library is downstairs.’  There was no avoiding it: if you wanted to live you’d have to go back downstairs. You took one last look at Alfred. “I guess I have to be the hero now... Sweet dreams, Alfie.”

The miserable wails erupting from the Grand Hall were much louder outside of the room. “Germanyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!” Italy shrieked in remorse. You inched your way down the stairs as slowly as possible, hoping the sound of Italy’s cries would mask any noise you made. You creeped through the dining hall, stepping around France, whose neck had been snapped. You looked up to see Russia hanging from a ceiling fan by his scarf. His violet eyes stared ominously at the floor where you stood. Sloppily written in blood on the wall next to him read the words: ‘No I Will Not Become One With Mother Russia’. You shuddered in disgust as a drip of wall writing fell on the bridge of your nose.

As you turned a corner, you had a clear view of the entire room. Canada was nowhere to be found. What you could see, however, was an auburn haired figure hunched over a large, bloody object, racked with sobs.

“Feli?”

Italy whipped around to face you, blood smearing his white shirt.

“I didn’t see the wire there, (Name)! I didn’t know he’d get hurt!” his curl crinkled and shrunk the way it always did when he was afraid.You picked up your pace, intending to comfort the sobbing Italian. Then you saw the pale blonde hair and cold blue eyes that could only belong to a certain stern German. A rather large and heavy looking bench-press weight pinned him to the floor at his chest.

“F-Feli what happened?” you asked, wondering how such an enormous weight got all the way out here.

“There was a trip wire, (Name)! I didn’t see it so didn’t step over it! But then this barbel fell out of nowhere and it him! I’m so sorry, (Name), I didn’t mean to hurt him, I swear!” Feliciano hugged you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder. You patted his back gently and continued to look over the still body of Germany, whose mouth was currently overflowing with blood

‘If the impact of the weight itself didn’t kill him, him drowning in his own blood definitely did.’ you thought to yourself.

“(N-Name)?” Feliciano whispered weakly into your hair. You hummed gently in response. “I-I’m scared.” You thought about the children you used to babysit for extra money. In an odd way, it reminded you of taking care them. Only instead of watching a horror film, you were in the horror film. You couldn’t simply turn off the TV if things got too scary. This was real life, and the danger was 100% real. In other words: you were fucked. But you couldn’t let Feli know that. You pat his back comfortingly.

“I know, hon.” you replied in the most confident voice you could muster. “I’ll fix this, I promise. I just need to get some supplies first.” You started to stand up, but Feli’s hand grabbing the hem of Alfred’s jacket.

“Please don’t leave me here, bella! I’m so scared and I don’t want to be left alone!” he pleaded in the most pitiful voice you could imagine. You weighed the ups and downs of taking Italy with you. He was pretty scared and defenseless, and leaving him alone with the cold corpse of his best friend was sick. However, he did rely on Ludwig for almost everything, and that responsibility would be shifted onto your shoulders. If you ran into Matt you’d have to make sure Feli was okay before you took action. This was a risk you couldn’t take.

You settled on stashing Feli in a nearby room. As long as he stayed put he couldn’t get hurt.
“Stay here. I’m going to go get some ammo. Lock the door behind me, and don’t open it until I come back.” you said, painfully reminded of the same orders given to you by Alfred.

“How will I know it’s you?” he asked, sitting down on the bed.

“I don’t know. I’ll knock three times.” you rushed, desperate to get to the library as quickly as possible. He nodded and you turned to leave. You stayed in the hallway for a moment until hearing the subtle click indicating the door was locked.

You tiptoed down the hall as swiftly as possible, the floorboards creaking painfully loud with every step you took. Your eyes darted across the room, never ceasing to look for trip wires, or any other traps that may be set.

‘Traps?!’ your thoughts screamed in your head. ‘When did that little Canadian bastard have the time to set traps?!’ There was no time to be thinking of that now. All that mattered was getting the bullets, finding the others, and killing Matthew.

You came to a quick halt at the doors of the library. You swung the doors open, ready to look under every stone for the ammo. It wasn’t until you turned a corner that  you found Yao lying on his side, half his intestines spilling into a blood soaked wok. You had always had a somewhat strong stomach, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at your dead Chinese friend. It was as if Matthew went out of his way to make his death ironic. You followed his empty gaze across the room to see a hand lying on the floor, its owner hidden behind a shelf. You skimmed the titles of the books as you walked closer to the hand. Every one of them was a book of legends, and folklore, and myths of witchcraft. That could only mean one thing: Arthur.

The Brit lay face first in a poorly drawn summoning circle on the floor. Examining him closely, he didn’t look bloody or wounded in any way. He seemed merely exhausted. Unable to find a pulse, you came to the conclusion that he wore himself out attempting a spell to great to perform on his own. He had trouble with small spells as it was, so it didn’t surprise you in the least.

A tortured scream rang out through the silence from deeper in the library. You ran towards it, knowing the cause was Matthew, ready to rip his head from his shoulders and keep it as a trophy. Silhouettes of two figures sat in front of the lit fireplace. Logic took over as you hid behind a shelf in order to better adjust the situation before charging in.

On the floor lay a very scared, very pained Kiku, who was squirming relentlessly, screaming bloody murder. And for good reason too. Kneeling on top of him, was none other than Matthew, whose knees were pinning the Japanese man at his chest. He held chopsticks ominously above Kiku’s face, holding a round, white orb covered in red fluids. It took you only a second to realize that said orb, was Kiku’s eye.

“Say ahh, Japan! I’ll bet you’re hungry.”