DISCLAIMER: I don't own APH. Never have and never will.

FELICIANO VENEZIANO VARGAS

Blood. It was so pretty. The body, my walls, and the floor were covered in it. I was soaked in the beautiful substance. It was such a pretty red. It dripped from the corpse hanging from my ceiling fan, making ripples in the bucket underneath it. I liked the ripples, it reminded me of the rivers in Venice.

I plunged my knife into the dead body, dragging it downwards with little effort. I giggled like the maniac I was, watching as more blood water-falled out of the hole I made. It was so pretty, the intestines hanging out of her stomach like pasta. Mmmmmm…pasta. I looked down in the bucket, trying to figure out what to do with the blood. Then it clicked.

I would paint. Why let such a pretty color go to waste? Besides Francis' birthday was coming up. I could paint him a picture! Ve~ it'll look so pretty! I grabbed a canvas, a smile pulling at my lips. I dipped my brush and started painting. I let my mind wander and didn't pay attention to what my arm did; just let it swoop across the canvas. Francis loved everything that I painted him.

Ding dong! Who could that be? I put my brush down and licked the blood off my fingers, relishing the salty, rustic taste. "Ve~ Ciao!" the door was opened to a police officer. He was tall and scary looking, his stern blue eyes looking down at me. He seemed a little startled at the fact that I was covered in blood. But why? I think it goes nicely with my hair. Maybe he's startled at the state of my house. I haven't cleaned up in a while.

"Feliciano Vargas, under the charges of manslaughter and kidnapping is under arrest." he said, clamping handcuffs on my wrists. As he dragged me off, I got a glance at my picture, a wilting rose, blood dripping from its petals. Awwwww…Big Brother Francis would've loved that!

ANTONIO FERNANDEZ CARRIEDO

Laura's been looking down. Really down. I didn't particularly like it. I've done everything to keep my chica happy. I surrounded her with love, making her feel protected. I've gotten rid of all her problems, making sure she was happy and stayed that way.

So why did she look so sad all the time?

I watched her from my post at the kitchen entrance. She sat on the couch, the upsetting frown on her face. Ding! her phone beeped. She picked it up, her frown only deepening when she saw who it was. Ahhh, so someone's bothering her. I thought I had cleared all those people out of her life.

"Who is that?" I asked, causing her to jump. She turned and looked at me, a small smile coming to her beautiful face.

"It's no one, Toni." she said. I moved to sit with her, putting my arm around her.

"Come on. You can tell me." I said, pying. "I hate seeing you sad."

She sighed. "It's just my brother. The murders going on the last few months make him worry like a mom." she said. "He keeps telling me to be careful."

My thoughts darkened, though I took care to keep my face bright. Abel, I've always hated him. He was the brick wall that kept me from dating Laura for the longest time. And when I finally did get that first date, he was there, breathing down my neck. Finally, I got the 'talk', which was essentially a 'Don't screw up or I'm coming for you.' speech.

"Toni?" she asked, calling me back to Earth. I looked down at her, surprised to see fear written on her features. I looked over to see that my hand had grabbed her shoulder and started squeezing with a painful force.

I jerked my hand away, the thought of causing her pain making me upset. "Lo siento." I said.

"Are you okay?" she asked me, scooting ever so slightly away.

I nodded, although my thoughts were still leading me into dark places. "Si." I said. I got up and went to the door. "I'll be right back."

~Hetalia!~

I usually take care of her problems at night, to make sure she doesn't worry. But this was a problem of mine that I've been wanting to fix for a while. However, that would've made her sad and cause her to worry, which is something I do not want.

I walked the entire way to his house. It wasn't big but it somehow still stood out from the rest of the street. I knocked on the door, putting my usually derpy smile on my face. That smile cracked when he answered the door.

"Antonio." he said coldly. It wasn't a question. Shit, it wasn't even a greeting.

"Abel." I said, my words just as frigid, my smile having shattered into an icy glare. We had a short staring contest before he finally stood back and opened the door wider.

"Is there something you want or are you here to waste my time?" he asked, a cigarette in his mouth.

"I came to talk." I said. I held a knife behind my back, my fingers itching to get this over with. I had an axe back home, kinda wish I had brought that. To solve her problems and make her happy. He simply raised an eyebrow before gesturing vaguely towards the table. I smiled again before heading over to the table and sitting in one of its many chairs. He sat down across from me. "Are you texting Laura about the murders?" I asked.

He raised his eyebrow again. "Yes, mostly because I actually care for my sister. Unlike those who consider themselves 'close'."

Really? "That's because I'm fully aware she can take care of herself." I said.

"So that gives you the 'OK' to just brush it off?" he asked, somehow lighting a new cigarette at the same time.

I smiled. A real smile this time. I took the knife from behind me and raised it menacingly; an expression that must've looked weird on me. "Actually, I think it does." Blood was splattered as I plunged it in his neck, not really caring about cleanliness.

His eyes widened to the size of saucers before his hands automatically reached for the handle. I got up quickly and went over, holding his hands down with a smile on my face that was surely unnerving. But I didn't care. Watching this man die made me happier than it should have. The light fading from his eyes. That pulse that was beating erratically just moments before was dying down. And finally his chest rose and fell slower and slower until all movement just stopped. Yep, defiantly enjoyed that more than I should've.

I opened the door, ready to go back to my Laura. Sadly, the universe had other ideas. On the other side of the door was a police officer, his car a little ways down the street. He was stalking me. Thatmuch was , his green eyes held this satisfied look. Hm, he must've caught some he was lookng for. "Under the offenses of manslaughter, Antonio Carriedo is under arrest." He proceeded to clamp metal cuffs around my wrists and gave me my Miranda Rights. I stopped listening awhile ago, my smile back on my face. My Bella was happy. And that's all that matters.

MATTHEW WILLIAMS-JONES

I slit the boyfriend's throat, while he went for the girl, our usual routine. What's really funny is that no one noticed when we dragged these two off the street. Like literally. We had grabbed them by the back of their shirts and dragged them off…in the middle of the night…when no one was around.

Pretty ironic though, considering we do this for attention. Bratty? I know, but it's fun. Nobody knows that we do it, but the attention we get when the news teams and police find the bodies is award enough.

At least, I do it for the sake of being noticed. Even if it's indirect attention, someone is noticing something I did. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Also, I can get rid of all the people who ever did me wrong (a very long list). It's a win-win.

I don't know why he does it. But I do know he enjoys screams. People begging him to stop, that they'll do anything. It's actually pretty funny on how he'll let them think it'll be okay. He 'let one go' once. Same person was dead the next morning. Nobody questions the screaming.

Again, ironic.

"You think we're being followed?" I asked, no need to be quiet, if I had whispered, nothing would've been heard.

He rolled his eyes. "The other residents in this shit hole say that this room is haunted. So…no." I smiled. It's true; most people here think this apartment is haunted. If it was just me living here, then yeah, I could see why they would think that. Nobody notices me except him and the people who mistake me for my brother at school. Which only adds them to my hit list. But he's kind of hard not to notice, with him cursing every other sentence and yelling and scowling at anything that moves. Hmmmm….

There was a knock on the door. We looked at each other before he cautiously made his way to the door. He barely opened it, and allowed his small form to go through the crack. "CHIGGI!" he screamed before he was forced back in, the door swinging wildly with it. Holding him by his wrist was our neighbor, and following the two was a police officer.

"B-bonjour." I said, while the officer and the neighbor took a good look at our apartment, shock clear on their faces. We're nineteen years old, was it really that surprising? I took the opportunity to look around as well. There was blood on every wall and there was a body crumpled in the corner. Another hung from our ceiling fan. Okay, so maybe it was a little surprising.

"Did you two do this?" the officer asked. I could tell he was ready to slap cuffs on our wrists and drag us away, but procedure wouldn't allow it.

I looked at him, and we made a silent agreement. "Yeah, we did it." I said.

"And we had a lot of fucking fun doing it too." he said with a smirk.

Both adults' eyes widened at our willingness to confess, and our confidence and satisfaction with our deeds. Then the officer's went back to a stony expression. "Well then, you two are under arrest by the Federal Law." he said, finally getting out of the handcuffs and slapping each bracelet on one of our wrists.

"Who the hell only brings one pair of fucking handcuffs?" he asked.

The officer glared before continuing his speech. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."

We just nodded, although I couldn't help but smile. I saw him smirk again. I looked around the apartment one last time, taking in every blood spatter and drinking in the metallic scent of fresh blood. Yeah, it was totally worth it.

See this? This is the result of a teen thinking about the limits of sanity. I like to read a lot Snapped!Country stories, trying to find some that weren't Canada or Italy. In that time, I figured out that most of the reasons were the same and shallow. For Canada, it's not being noticed, for Italy it's to show he wasn't weak, for Romano it's the love and protectiveness over his brother. While I found these all to be good reasons, none of them stuck or seemed to go beyond that. So yes, this is mostly a character study. But it's a fun character study but shmurr. (has no idea if I'm even using that in the right context) I'm sorry that Italy's came out so short, this all started out as a drabble but it became this thing and I couldn't add to his without it seeming forced. I like guessing games, so can anyone guess why it's called Scissors?