The+Dream

Note : I was bored when I wrote this. I was also sick, tired, and had a major stomach/headache. So, uh, yeah.

= The Dream =

He felt a painful sting as England slapped him across the face.
=== All this time, he had put up with the pain. All his life, he tried to be merciful. He had ignored the rude remarks and comments, he was always friendly, and, even in war, he didn't try to decimate the enemy unless absolutely necessary. But this was the last straw. ===

"You won't shoot me!" England laughed. "You don't have the guts!"
=== "Try me!" he yelled back. He squeezed the trigger and watched blood spray from the blonde head. He laughed, a deranged, insane laugh, as England's body hit the floor. The room spun faster. This feeling of no control was wonderful, almost addicting. The room slowly became covered in blood. It spun faster still... === === America sat bolt upright in bed. He was covered in a cold sweat, his heart was racing, and he was breathing fast. He looked around his room. It was completely still. No blood, no spinning, nothing. Everything was perfectly normal. === === He had had that dream before; this was the third night in a row he had seen it. America wiped his forehead and sat there, panting for a while. Then he laid down and tried to go back to sleep. He tossed and turned for hours. Eventually, he started to drift off into sleep... ===

//Beep beep, beep beep//
=== "Dammit." He turned off his alarm clock and sat up again. Now he had to get up, get dressed and go to the United Nations meeting to try to discuss plans for a better world. Everyone would probably end up arguing again, like always. He wasn't sure how much more of it he could take. === === As he was headed out the door, he saw his pistol on his desk. The cold, shiny metal beckoned to him. The one time he never had it on him was when he was at meetings like this, in case anything got out of hand. He paused for a moment, then walked over to it and picked it up. He slipped it into his coat pocket, then headed to the meeting. === === At the meeting, America didn't bother to put on his "happy act" again. He was too tired from lack of sleep, not to mention tired of playing pretend. He watched as the other countries presented their ideas to solve the problems in Syria, global warming, and the like. He watched as they argued and fought over the silliest things. He watched, and all the while, he kept fingering the pistol in his pocket. ===

England laughed. “You won’t shoot me! You don’t have the guts!”
===A tear rolled down America’s cheek. What was happening? He couldn’t control himself anymore. “TRY ME!” he almost screamed. He squeezed the trigger. A loud bang echoed throughout the room. He watched blood spray from the blonde head, and the once-strong body hit the ground.===

Then Canada screamed. “He killed him! My own brother’s a murderer!”
===The room was spinning faster. America started to laugh. First, just a light chuckle, then it started to build into a deranged, insane laugh, like in his dream. He looked at China. “You’re next!” China barely had time to yell before a bullet ripped through his head.===

“France!” Canada rushed over to him. He fell to his knees next to the lifeless body, weeping. The room spun faster still. This feeling of no control was wonderful, almost addicting.
===America turned to see Russia, Japan, and Germany running up to him. Japan pulled out his katana and Russia had his lead pipe. America jumped over the table to the other side of the room and aimed the gun at Russia. “Let’s see,” he said calmly. “A lead pipe, a sword, and a couple of fists verses a gun at the other side of the room.” The craziness came back into his voice. “I think the gun will win, don’t you?”=== ===He pulled the trigger, and a bullet tore through Russia’s head. He fell. America fired again. This time Japan fell. Finally he aimed the gun at Germany. Germany put his hands up. “Listen, America, you have to stop! You’re killing the world! If you continue-”===

America paused.
===“Out of the two of us, you’re the one who deserves to die!” Canada pulled a pistol out of his pocket and fired at his brother. America heard the bullet whizz past his left ear and hit the wall behind him.===

Right before America pulled the trigger, he saw a tear fall from Canada’s eye. His brother. One of his closest friends. //Bang.//
===The room was covered in blood. It kept spinning. Bodies lay everywhere. America sighed. “I might as well finish what I started,” he said to himself. “First, home, for a quick shower and some more bullets. Then, I’ll track down that jack-ass Cuba. Then Hungary, Austria, Romano, oh, the list will go on!” He walked out of the meeting room, told the attendant on the first floor that he had to leave early, then walked out of the building. She hadn’t even looked up. Good for her, because if she saw the blood all over him, he would have had to kill her, too.===

=
===Every country was dead. All except for America. He sat on a small hill in his backyard. Somehow, he had managed to get away from the police. His head had cleared. He couldn’t believe he was capable of mass murder. How could he have killed England? Or Canada? Or any of the others? Tears were rolling down his cheeks. He looked at his gun. “One more bullet,” he said to himself. He chuckled. “I might as well take it.”===