Going 2p (Hetalia)

North Italy

A shaking man stood in the courtroom. His sweaty palms nervously rubbed together as he looked up at the judge with pleading eyes, though the judge paid no attention to him. What was this man being accused of, you ask? Well, to put it simply: murder.
Feliciano Vargas was the man's name. His brother, Lovino, was waiting nervously with him. Feliciano hadn't killed the man, however. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He had seen the murder take place, and he even called the police. But, no matter the fact that he was innocent, he had foolishly ran away before the police arrived. There was so much evidence stacked against him, the real killer had gotten away.
His heart sank when the judge called, "Guilty. Feliciano Vargas, I sentence you to twenty five years in prison."
Twenty five years in prison. There was no way someone like Feliciano would survive one year of prison, much less twenty five.
His brother had to be held back as two prison guards came to escort him to where he would be living for the next twenty five years.
Feliciano let himself be dragged away. He trembled terribly, not being able to believe what was happening.
Once he was at the prison, he was strip searched and giving the smallest jumpsuit they had. It still barely fit the scrawny male. He was brought into a nurse's office, where a mean looking lady with short, brown curls glared at him.
After his physical was done, he was brought to a cell. His cell, he realized. A tough-looking man in his mid thirties would be his new cellmate. He had short brown hair and his arms were covered in tattoos. He glared down at the small Feliciano.
Feliciano was roughly shoved into the cell after a minute. The Italian decided that it would be best if he just kept quiet. The man smirked a bit at him before sending poor Feliciano flying across the cell. Feliciano held the cheek that had been hit and looked up at the smirking man with terror.
"Name's Jim, but you won't be calling me anything except 'Master', you hear?" Jim threatened the trembling Italian before kicking him straight in the ribs. "I said, you hear!?" "Y-Yes, Sir..."

Weeks went on like this before Feliciano had enough of Jim's torment. He was hit almost everyday, and slowly he grew to cry less and less until he rarely even showed emotion while being beat. He hadn't smiled once in prison and he didn't plan to.
Feliciano simply couldn't take the pain much longer. His brother had come to visit him and had openly cried when he saw how beat up Feliciano was.
Well, it was all about to change. Feliciano had signed up to help in the kitchen, which was usually just peeling potatoes. He was pretty trusted, since most of the guards knew he was innocent and he never caused any problems.
Once all the lunch ladies were distracted talking to each other, (like they did every day), Feliciano pocketed a small kitchen knife on his way out. He hid it up his sleeve.
Now, wouldn't the kitchen be more protected? Well, it normally was. Later that day, the ladies who worked the kitchen had a girl's night out planned. They had been talking about it for months. Feliciano knew this because kitchen duty was his only real escape from Jim.
He smirked slightly to himself as everyone was going back to their cells. Once they were locked in again and the guards were spread out and away from their cell, Jim slapped Feliciano, only to receive a cut in his arm. "Alright, Jimmy-boy~" The Italian cooed as he brought out the knife. "Do you know how I got in here in the first place?~" a shocked and terrified Jim simply shook his head. "Murder." With that, the man had a slit throat. Feliciano smirked and bent down to place the knife in Jim's hand before he screamed.

A year has passed since the incident with Jim. Suicide was a common thing and the guards believed Feliciano's story. His death was ruled as a suicide and Feliciano was free. Nobody picked on him or even approached him since Jim's death. One inmate had over heard the guards mention that Feliciano was convicted of murder. Gossip spread like wildfire and suddenly, Feliciano no longer had any bruises and scrapes.
New evidence was brought to his case that proved his innocence. Feliciano was set free, finally. But, he could never get that rush that came with killing Jim out of his head. He was addicted and he wanted more so badly.
When Lovino picked up his brother, it wasn't the sweet, innocent Feliciano that had gone in. His eyes seemed to have shifted from a honey color, to a dark, blood red. His hair seemed darker than Lovino remembered, and that look in those once warm eyes was disturbing. Not to say that the older Italian hadn't changed, However.

A/N:
Thank you for reading the first bit! Now, I know I'm not too good at this, but I would love to get better, so please critique and review, it's very appreciated! Thank you!