Canadian Killer

Chapter 8

England hung his jacket on the appropriate clothes rack and entered the apartment of the Canadian. Interested he looked around.

"Wow, seems like I haven't been here a long time. This changed a lot.", He noticed. Canada smiled sheepishly.

First, Canada showed England, where he could sleep. While he set himself up, Canada went down to the kitchen to prepare dinner. He took some ingredients from the fridge and then began to prepare everything.

"I see you've already started."

Canada turned abruptly. "You scared me ...!"

"Sorry."

England saw his foster son over his shoulder. "If you had waited, I could have helped you."

"T-that- I don't mind ..." The Canadian smiled sheepishly back. England also had to smile.

"Hey ... where's your bear? I haven't discovered it yet. He is always with you, isn't he?"

Canada winced inevitably. "H-He is...n-not h-here...!!"

England raised surprised his eyebrows.

"H-he w-wanted to go back to h-his F-Family..! I-in the wilderness..."

The Briton shrugged and sat down at the table. "Well then, we strongly hope that he's happy there where he is now."

Canada nodded.

The Briton remarked, as the Canadian was uncontrollably shaking. Probably it was just hard for him to have lost his brother and now have to live in this big house all alone here.

"And we want to hope that America where he is now, also goes well and that he don't really miss us ..." whispered the Briton in a trembling voice.

Canada slammed the knife on the counter and stood in silence the plate with some bread on the table. Swaying he headed for the door.

"Canada, is everything okay?" the Briton supported him.

"Y-yes ...just a small headache..." He pulled away and went up the stairs. "You can still eat it all. I'm not hungry ... "

Canada's POV

"He totally ignored us! He thinks only of America! "

"T-that's not true ...!"

"Why do you deny it! He underestimated us! Show him for what we're made of! This is your chance! "

The Canadian tried desperately to sell the voice from his head. He threw himself on his bed. Tears ran from his eyes.

"He must die! Our life... he has always seen America! He hasn't even honored a look "

"Leave me finally alone!" Canada jumped up and looked into the dark eyes of his opponent.

"You know I'm right ..."

A knock on the door to Canada's room interrupted the conversation.

"It's me. I just thought ... maybe you will get hungry. I let something to eat for you here, okay? Good night, and Canada... I'm sorry. I know the thing about America entrains you. I miss him too...Good night, Canada."

The steps echoed in the hallway.

Canada desperately tried to stop his tears flood. Anger seized him. Terrible rage. And at the same time a sense of infinite void.

England's POV

England was in his blanket, curled up in his bed. It was after 1am and although so far everything had remained quiet, he just couldn't sleep.

Restless, he rolled back and forth.

Then suddenly, soft footsteps sounded in the hallway. England pricked up his ears. The steps remained just outside his room. Quietly, the door was opened. England saw the shadow of a person who walked slowly and unsteadily to his room.

Metal to flash.

The Brit sat up and took a defensive stance, but suddenly broke the Peron in front of him simply connected.

Hastily the Briton turned on the light.

"Canada!"

His foster son laid panting in front of him on the floor. He hardly seemed to be conscious. With one hand he clutched a knife.

England jumped out of bed and rushed to him.

"Canada! What happened?!" He turned him on his back and held him so that he could sit in a fairly upright posture. When he wanted to take the knife Canada, his eyes fell on this and Canada's left hand. They were full of blood.

"C-Canada! What have you done?!"

Frantically he tried to stop the bleeding of the huge gash.

"He can't get you..." breathed the Canadian.

"Just stay calm, okay? I'll do it."

"He wanted to kill you... but I can't anymore... I can't stop him..."

"Don't speak, Canada!"

England grabbed the Canadian and carried him to his bed. He told him to lie there and stay calm as he hurried into the bathroom to get bandages.

With a little magical help he provided the wound and bandaged it then. Nevertheless, Canada was still very weak.

"What were you just doing...?" Asked the Englishman quietly and put his hand on his sweaty forehead.

"I'm sorry..." whispered Canada.

"It's okay..."

"I'm sorry, England...! Everything, I'm so sorry..."

"Get some sleep, Canada... I will take care of you."

The Canadian reached for the hand of England. This lay down beside him and closed his eyes.

Eventually he fell asleep, the heavy breathing and softly whisper in the ear of the Canadian.