Why me? [2p! Italy x Reader]

RW: Chapter 12

~your pov~

"...and that's how I managed to get kidnapped. Twice."
I opened a can of (favorite softdrink) and took a sip, waiting for Alfred's response.
"Well, at least I'm back home", I continued.

I could finally relax, and spend time with my mother and Alfred.
Everything would go back to normal, and then I would study, get a job...
How boring...
I somehow miss the adrenaline rush.
Call me crazy, but it was kind of nice to be outside.
I suppose I'm going to live a boring life again, huh.

~timeskip~

Alfred left after dinner.
My mother made (favorite food), and it was tasty, but it didn't taste the same as before.
I felt so dull and lifeless, and also, more irritated.

"(Y/n), could you get me a few things from the supermarket? I forgot them", my mother asked, handing me a list.
That simple request made me frown.
"Fine."
Irritation was very noticeable in my voice, but my mother didn't bother.
So, I took my coat and left the house, taking the usual route to the supermarket.

I got what my mother wanted, and I was waiting in the line, but the cashier was so slow, I would've grown old already.
"Excuse me", I spoke. "Could you please hurry up??"
The cashier noticed and started panicking a little, dropping a few items, leaving some out and just embarrassing herself.

I huffed and whispered: "How incompetent."
There were three people before me in line and it took seven minutes to finally pay.

I shot her a glare before exiting the supermarket.
At the exit, I bumped into someone.
"Watch where you go, you m-"
I turned around and faced whoever I was trying to insult.
I recognized him immediately.
Reddish brown hair, red eyes, white tank top and bomber jacket, ripped jeans. Baseball bat with nails.
Allen.

He also seemed to recognize me, because he already raised his baseball bat to swing it at me.
And he did, hitting the side of my head.
The impact made me fall to the ground, dropping the groceries.

But I didn't feel the pain.

Instead of pain, all I felt was... anger.

I got up immediately, and the wound started healing miraculously.
I didn't pay attention to it and lunged at him, throwing a punch at his face.
He didn't expect me to fight back but he dodged.
So I swiftly delivered a kick to his stomach, making him back off a little.

I was a little stunned that I managed to hit him, but I didn't have time for admiring my skills.
Another swing of the bat, this time I dodged.
He saw that it didn't work, so he started to use his bare hands, turning it into a fist fight.

With everytime I got hit, I became more furious.
I tried to aim for his weak points, and he blocked.
And I was slowly becoming sloppier, and easier to hit.

After five minutes, I was held against the wall, about to be strangled.
"Well, you gave me a good fight, for a doll", he said. "But, I gotta make you pay for beating Oliver up."

I should've known.
I should've known that someone would come back and made me pay for that.
The pressure around my neck became greater, preventing me from breathing.
I stopped fighting back, my limbs became limp.

I was going to die.

There was nothing I could do about it.

I closed my eyes, ready to die.

...

And suddenly, something inside of me took over.
I couldn't control my words or my body.
A smirk made its way onto my face.
"Bitch, it takes more than that to kill me."
I gave him a headbutt and kicked him in the groin, loosening the grip  around my neck.

He gritted his teeth, but I could see from the look in his eyes that he didn't understand where I got my newfound strength from.
I didn't either.
"What the fuck?"
I grinned widely.
"Aw, are you hurt? Do you want me to kiss it better?"
I wanted to take that back. These words made me cringe.

Stepping towards him, my foot hit his baseball bat.
I picked it up and raised it over my head, ready to bash his head in.
"Good night, motherfucker", I cooed.
He glared at me, even when I made his baseball bat meet his face.
Again, and again, and again.

I dropped the baseball bat.
"Oh my god, I think I killed him", I whispered.
I was bloodied, and it wasn't a pretty sight.
I don't think I've bashed his head in, but his face is going to have a LOT of scars.
I could've thrown up.
Not daring to check, I picked up the groceries I dropped and ran back home.

A tear escaped my eye.
What was that?
I was never so violent, or had such murderous urges.
Hell, I think I've made myself a criminal, a murderer if he's dead.
How long am I going to sit in prison for homicide?
A few years, for sure.
I can't tell anyone about this.
If they find out, they will think I'm a monster.

An idea popped inside my head.
If I find out about this, I might find out about my lost memories.

What am I?