So….this is my first story probably going to be a one shot type of thing…ENJOY! It's pretty sad though but don't get mad at me!

Ludwig couldn't help the sigh that escaped his mouth as he ran his hands under the cold water in his bathroom sink.

How did it happen? Is the only thought that kept running through his mind. All he remembers was that he was cutting some potatoes to fix for dinner when he felt something wet run down his arm. It wasn't until he snapped out of whatever daze he was in that he realized that he accidentally cut himself.

He was thankful at the very least that he was by himself when it happened. If Prussia was there he would have probably gone into 'big brother mode' and demand to know why Ludwig is so 'unawesomly' distracted and refuse to stop bugging Ludwig until Ludwig gave him some beer or money. If Italy was there he probably would have started freaking out and call Japan to come help since he was hurt, and then fix pasta to use to heal Ludwig.

But lucky for him Prussia was out with his drinking buddies England and Denmark, along with his two other friends Spain and France having a drinking contest or something of the sort. While Italy was with Romano spending time with him since Spain was busy and according to Romano Italy had spent 'too much time with damned potato bastard!'

He couldn't help but sigh again as he reluctantly looked down to clean the wound.

It will probably be a few days until it is fully healed until then I should probably keep it hidden Ludwig thought as he opened up the medicine cabinet above the sink and grabbing the first aid kit. Even though he already knew that it wouldn't matter no one would see the bandage or even ask what happened. It was because it was on his left arm. Not many people saw or looked at his left arm, at least not anymore.

Feliciano has never seen it, partly because Ludwig was careful about him not seeing it, and Feliciano not seeing anything was easy since he kept his eyes closed a lot. No one who he considered close had ever seen it or even knew of what it meant to him. Thinking of it Ludwig felt his eyes straying down in the mirror that was placed in front of him until they finally got to that place where….that mark…that thing was. On his left arm, slightly above the wrist. It was there.

270715

Those numbers. Ones that were implanted on him by his own children. Ones that haunted his dreams. Ones that he always tried to forget but only made him remember more. The ones that always seemed to slightly burn, and had even more of an edge when a nation gave him a glare because they were still upset with him, or wake him up from after a nightmare so it still reminded him when he went to sleep again.

Looking back on it, he found it slightly ironic that they were on the arm were the red Nazi band once rested. He never forgot any of the people he met in there, for either side they stood on whether they were receiving the punishment beside him or they were the ones giving it. None of the other nations knew what happened to him, and he never plans on letting them know. He remembered that his precious Führer sent him there for numerous reasons, and then he was moved to an even worse location.

Ludwig couldn't repress the shudder that went through him. When he looked at himself in the mirror he jumped at his reflection. He was wearing his old uniform. The one of the Third Reich. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes and looked up again to find it thankfully gone. He turned the water off before grabbing at his head as memories came flashing up.

He remembered everything. Every hit, every pain, everything that they said to him. No one even knew he was gone he was sent to the camp a bit before Italy left the Axis, Prussia was busy dealing with Russia, and Japan had his hands full with America. Besides that no one noticed his disappearance.

He was found a few days after the surrender and he didn't wake up until a month afterwards in the hospital. Even then no one came looking for him. When he finally did come back home around 4 months after the surrender everyone was upset with him. He remembered everyone yelling. Especially his brother and Italy. None of them wanting to know where he was or what happened.

And he didn't want to tell them. He felt as if he did it would just be an excuse.

He remembered they yelled at him and called him numerous names not only Prussia and Italy did, but so did many other nations as well. He could still remember he was called a monster the most but he was also called a devil. Eventually the name calling subsided and other nations started talking with him again, and accepted his apology, but he still felt the same.

He still felt all the blood around him, he still felt dirty, he still remembered their faces, all of the names, and he still felt like he was a monster.

He still feels like a monster.

He still feels the hate from other nations glances sometimes, when they are reminded of the past. Although they don't realize that beneath their glances he isn't what he seems to be to them. To all the other nations he seems put together suit crisp, clean, and pressed. Along with a clean house. Always wanting to work and getting things done quickly, efficiently, and perfectly. Having a good economy as well in this economic turmoil. He wasn't what he seemed to be. They didn't know the only reason he buried himself in work was to try to keep the memories his past from entering his mind. Sometimes when he was reminded of his punishment for the war and Prussia's he wishes that they could have been switched. He wishes sometimes that he still didn't have to deal with the responsibility with the memories. He wishes that he could revoke his name as Germany and leave the country to Prussia and finally escape from these memories that never left. Although Prussia would probably run the place to ground in a week since he is almost unable to even walk into the kitchen without starting a fire.

He suddenly felt pain in his left wrist which snapped him out of his daze and realized he poured some disinfectant in it. He really needed to distract himself. He had no work since he finished it all. He would go running but it was raining. He didn't want to read because he knew it wouldn't help since memories of cracking whips, and angry yells became louder.

He went downstairs and to the fridge thankful that Prussia didn't drink all his beer yet.

After a while (a while being 3 packs of beer, a bottle of scotch, and a few other bottles of alcohol that he couldn't remember the name of mostly Vodka and other things since they ran out of beet) Ludwig finally chased away the memories of those numbers along with all the trouble they came, and he couldn't even remember why he was drinking in the first place. He finally let the darkness come and passed out on the couch. Hoping that he was drunk enough that his dreams would let him forget those number, even for a little while.

The End

Well I might add another chapter where Prussia comes home and finds Ludwig passed out drunk on the couch but…I don't know

It's really whatever you guys think. I'll probably write another story but it's not going to be as dark and sad as this one.

So review!