Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia-Axis Powers or Lovino. Only the plot...

A/N: I...I wrote this when I was depressed...sorry...I really am sorry for the horrible quality in which it's written, and the plot all together.

A/N: I never specified who the father was -though when I was writing it I pictured it as Antonio- So you can choose who the father is...

A Prayer (Hetalia!One-Shot)

Lovino shook as he curled up in his bed, covers wrapped around his small form like a cacoon, quiet cries escaping him. He hadn't slept in days, fear and nightmares haunting him every time he closed his eyes. He covered his head with the blanket, letting out a shaky sigh.

"Now I lay me down to sleep…"

The child's voice bounced off the walls, shaking, trembling, hollow tone ghosting through the house as he cried. The sound of boots echoing through the halls, crashes sounding from the corridors. His father was home…

"I pray the lord…"

A quiet sob escaped him, but he doesn't try running this time, knowing his fate is inevitable…especially with the man's intoxicated state. He can hear him coming, drawing closer to his room as he tightens his hold on the covers that surround him.

"…my soul to keep…"

A scream reverberates through the household as his father rips the covers from Lovino's body.

"P-please…papá….d-don't…"

His begging is quiet, almost inaudible, but it reached the man's ears, making him even more angry than he already was. The slap rings out through the room, but no words leave the elder man's lips.

"If I should die…"

He got carried away, his anger rising and getting the best of him. HIs vision goes red as the hits the child again and again, beating him down and then ordering him to his feet only to knock him down once more. Lovino, at times, wouldn't even make it from his knees before hitting the ground again.

A broken sob escaped the child as he pleaded for his father to stop…to please stop…

"…before I wake…"

Lovino struggled to his hands and knees, pain shooting through his young body, arms trembling as tears streaked his face and blurred his vision. A deafening crack echoes through the room as the man's foot connects with the boy's chest, ribs cracking. A metallic taste entered the child's mouth as he wheezed harshly, coughing, hacking up blood. The taste filling his mouth, his vision began blackening from the constant pain. He collapsed in a pool of blood; his once tan skin now pale and painted red. The beating continued long after he lost conciousness, his father letting out his anger on his elder son.

The sound of bones breaking filled the room, the man cursing the entire time, hitting and stepping on the kid until he was satisfied. He left the room, draping a blanket over the motionless body as he passed, blood seeping through to the other side, dying it red. The door slammed behind him, a small content smile on the man's face as he walked through the halls and into the bathroom, washing the blood stains from his hands.

"I pray the lord…"

Inside the room, hidden beneath the cover, Lovino was still. His body broken and bruised. No sign of breathing, of movement, of life showing. When the authorities walked in only a few days later the scent of death and blood filled them, gagging them until the point of sickness.

April 5, 1987, Lovino Vargas, age 8, is dead.

"…my soul to take."