Mud.

Blood.

Ash.

What else is there in war? Just those terrifying things flying into your eyes, hair, skin...your brain.

It never goes away.

The shock.

The pain.

There is nothing else in war. Maybe the shout or scream of pain or triumph, but nothing else.

But then the sound that everyone despises...

That squelch.

One. Two. Three. Three steps and I felt and heard that sound.

Squelch.

Normally, I wouldn't mind it, if I were cooking or cleaning...but now.

I take a glimpse at the poor man below me.

Marred, beaten, a shot to the head.

Probably the best way to die out here. Usually quick, but not painless, you could say.

Maybe I should try to help someone take away that pain.

I lift my rifle. I scope the surrounding area. People, running by me. Up the hill...there!

Ah, a young man. Light blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin. On the German side, I bet.

One shot.

Squelch.

That sound...slightly pleasurable.

I'm helping someone, so it's not bad..right?

Ah, another. But wait, he's not German.

Black hair, green eyes, pale skin. Bulgarian? What's he doing out here...

Let's take care of his pain.

One shot.

Squelch.

Maybe another.

Another shot.

Squelch.

One more.

Squelch.

There's another.

Squelch.

I do believe he was on my side..too bad. At least I got him out of this..mess.

A shout. A call.

I look up. Do my violet eyes deceive me?

Oh no, that's their flag.

Slowly going down...

Looks like we won~

With each and every sound.

One shot.

SQUELCH.

Canada trudged through the hallways.

His wavy, blonde hair would usually be combed, but today, it was tangled and dirty.

His eyes would usually be focused and clear, but today, they were clouded and tired.

His clothes would usually be clean and wrinkle-free, but today, they were wrinkled and smelled.

If anyone noticed, they could see that Matthew had relived a moment of his life that sickened him

Every shot, every scream, every squelch.

Brought back...memories. Nightmares. Things that could have been prevented.

One. Two. Three. Three steps and he is in the room. The world summit.

France is the only one who truly notices Canada's weakness.

A concerned look.

A pleading look.

'Do not draw attention to me.'

France turned his attention back to the yelling Germany.

England notices Canada's appearance.

"I do say boy, are you alright?"

Canada glared at England. The toughest, meanest glare he could muster.

"Couldn't sleep." Matthew grumbled.

England looked surprised, but turned his attention back to the happy America.

A pat on his sore back.

Canada turned. Behind him were Romano and Prussia, who nodded.

A silent agreement passed through them.

'Try. Try to forget them.'

Those shots, those screams, those...that..squelch.

Insanity comes in the most unlikely forms.

'Please..please take that away.'

Don't even ask what I wrote. I have no idea. It came up while I was watching HetaOni.

If you don't understand, Canada is talking in his head about the insanity of war. Gave me the heebie-jeebies.

~Calistrophia