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Description
     Feliciano Vargas was just so innocent. Always smiling, always laughing, always loving the world. He always walked with a spring in his step, causing his curl to bounce. But, little did the Italian, or anyone for that matter, realize how hurt Feliciano was going to be.

     It was a cold day in Berlin, the proud capital of Germany. The date was January 16th, 1944, and the young Italian man walked through the big halls as he widely grinned while humming to himself. He loved living with Ludwig. Ludwig Weillshmidt was Feli's best friend; he was so happy when the German had asked him to move in. Ludwig had been acting weird lately, though, all secretive and stuff. He didn't dwell on it too much, though. And he didn't dare ask Ludwig what was going on, he knew better than that. The Italian continued down the big hallway, loving the warm feeling that flowed all throughout the house. Despite the numbing cold outside, it was nice and cozy inside.

     Feliciano practically giggled when he reached his destination. He had been walking through these huge, intimidating hallways for almost an hour. Even though he was very familiar with the house, the small Italian had a tendency to lose his way. The curl on the Italian's head twitched as Feliciano grabbed the handle on the wooden door. A huge smile spread across Feli's face as he slowly walked into Ludwig's study. His whole body was warmed as he stood in the middle of the room, closing his bug brown eyes. He inhaled deeply, letting the scent of everything in the room fill him; the old books that lined the walls, the earthy scent of the cherry wood desk, and the faint smell of German beer. These all hung in the air around Feliciano. The Italian's smile grew; the room smelled like Ludwig himself. Feliciano loved this room the most out of everyroom in the whole house. Usually, Feli would sit on the floor, playing with Ludwig's German Shepard, Adrian, while Ludwig sat at his desk, doing paperwork. But lately, the German wouldn't let anyone inside. Many times had Feliciano found Adrian curled up outside the door, his ears flattened down against his head.

     Feliciano needed to re-familiarize himself with this room. The Italian ran his fingers over the walls of books, making sure to touch every one that was within his reach. He finally went and sat in the chair that was at the desk. Feliciano had never sat in Ludwig's chair, and it was weird sitting in it for the first time. He felt like he was in charge, in control, he felt dominant. He pushed himself out of the chair as he looked out of the large window that was behind him. It was then that Feliciano noticed the thin black cord that hung from the ceiling. He looked up to see what appeared to be a rolled up piece of fabric. He took a firm hold of the cord and pulled, the red fabric unrolled and fell in front of the window. The Italian stared at it curiously, slightly confused. This looked like a flag, but he had never seen a flag like this before. It was all red except for the big white circle at its center. And inside the circle was some sort of weird, black, cross-like symbol. Feli cocked his head in confusion. He then turned back to Ludwig's desk, hoping to find answers. He dug through some files on the desk, reading them as best he could. The Italian knew some German, but not a lot. This made reading the papers and documents inside difficult to read, but he tried his hardest.

     The brown eyes that usually gleamed with joy grew wide as he read. 'Adolf Hitler promises a better...' Feliciano stopped and puzzled over the next word, trying to decipher it. 'future for Germany.' Feli struggled with most of it, but the words he did understand scared him. 'The final solution' 'concentration camps' 'cyanide gas', all of these words frightened Feliciano to no end. He struggled to read on. 'Nazis' 'Aryan race' 'Juden.' The last word Feliciano read confused him.

     "Juden," he whispered, trying to remember where he had heard that word before. It sounded so familiar. Then it hit him: 'Juden' was the German word for 'Jew.' Wait...Jew? Feliciano began piecing the phrases and words together in his mind as he pulled a picture from the file. The Italian's eyes went wide again as he stared at it: it was a picture of Ludwig, standing with another, shorter, man, both of them in German military uniform. Around their left upper arms were bands that looked just like the flag on the window behind him. They had their right arms extended out straight, at a slight angle. Feli's eyes stared at Ludwig's face. He was smiling. The German's smile in the picture was dark and sinister. The small Italian turned around the face the flag on the window, angry tears stinging his eyes. But, the angry tears mixed with tears of fear and disbelief. The picture fell from his small hands as his body went numb.

     "No..." he sobbed. Feliciano collapsed into a heap on the floor, leaning against the desk for support. He sobbed and sobbed, pained hiccups escaping past his lips. His eyes stung, his throat burned, his mouth was as dry as cotton. Feliciano slowly pulled himself up off of the floor, bracing himself up against the desk again. He had never felt more hurt in his entire life. He felt his soul dying deep inside of him. How could Ludwig do this? How could he hide this from him? These questions flew around in his mind as he soon began rummaging through the desk drawers, trying to see through blurry eyes. Once he opened one of the bottom drawers, his fingers felt a familiar cold, and they gripped it. Feliciano blinked away some of his tears as he stared at the metal object he now held in his hands. He turned to his left, so he was facing the wall. It was then that he noticed the mirror. He stared at his own reflection as he raised the weapon to his temple, pressing the unforgiving cold metal against his head. Feliciano took a deep breath, closed his eyes, tightened his finger around the trigger and...BANG!

     Crimson blood sprayed across the Nazi flag, and spattered against the window as Feliciano collapsed. The blood ran down the window, the sunlight filtering through the red. Feliciano's lifeless body lay on the floor, blood beginning to pool around his head, his hand still holding a tight grip on the gun. And, just as the last breath of life pushed its way past the Italian's lips, one final tears dripped down the dead skin of his cheek, and fell into the puddle of blood, mixing with the crimson. Feliciano wasn't just dead, he was gone. His heart was broken, he felt betrayed. His beautiful soul left his body, leaving nothing more than a broken, bleeding husk.

Description
     Feliciano Vargas was just so innocent. Always smiling, always laughing, always loving the world. He always walked with a spring in his step, causing his curl to bounce. But, little did the Italian, or anyone for that matter, realize how hurt Feliciano was going to be.

     It was a cold day in Berlin, the proud capital of Germany. The date was January 16th, 1944, and the young Italian man walked through the big halls as he widely grinned while humming to himself. He loved living with Ludwig. Ludwig Weillshmidt was Feli's best friend; he was so happy when the German had asked him to move in. Ludwig had been acting weird lately, though, all secretive and stuff. He didn't dwell on it too much, though. And he didn't dare ask Ludwig what was going on, he knew better than that. The Italian continued down the big hallway, loving the warm feeling that flowed all throughout the house. Despite the numbing cold outside, it was nice and cozy inside.

     Feliciano practically giggled when he reached his destination. He had been walking through these huge, intimidating hallways for almost an hour. Even though he was very familiar with the house, the small Italian had a tendency to lose his way. The curl on the Italian's head twitched as Feliciano grabbed the handle on the wooden door. A huge smile spread across Feli's face as he slowly walked into Ludwig's study. His whole body was warmed as he stood in the middle of the room, closing his bug brown eyes. He inhaled deeply, letting the scent of everything in the room fill him; the old books that lined the walls, the earthy scent of the cherry wood desk, and the faint smell of German beer. These all hung in the air around Feliciano. The Italian's smile grew; the room smelled like Ludwig himself. Feliciano loved this room the most out of everyroom in the whole house. Usually, Feli would sit on the floor, playing with Ludwig's German Shepard, Adrian, while Ludwig sat at his desk, doing paperwork. But lately, the German wouldn't let anyone inside. Many times had Feliciano found Adrian curled up outside the door, his ears flattened down against his head.

     Feliciano needed to re-familiarize himself with this room. The Italian ran his fingers over the walls of books, making sure to touch every one that was within his reach. He finally went and sat in the chair that was at the desk. Feliciano had never sat in Ludwig's chair, and it was weird sitting in it for the first time. He felt like he was in charge, in control, he felt dominant. He pushed himself out of the chair as he looked out of the large window that was behind him. It was then that Feliciano noticed the thin black cord that hung from the ceiling. He looked up to see what appeared to be a rolled up piece of fabric. He took a firm hold of the cord and pulled, the red fabric unrolled and fell in front of the window. The Italian stared at it curiously, slightly confused. This looked like a flag, but he had never seen a flag like this before. It was all red except for the big white circle at its center. And inside the circle was some sort of weird, black, cross-like symbol. Feli cocked his head in confusion. He then turned back to Ludwig's desk, hoping to find answers. He dug through some files on the desk, reading them as best he could. The Italian knew some German, but not a lot. This made reading the papers and documents inside difficult to read, but he tried his hardest.

     The brown eyes that usually gleamed with joy grew wide as he read. 'Adolf Hitler promises a better...' Feliciano stopped and puzzled over the next word, trying to decipher it. 'future for Germany.' Feli struggled with most of it, but the words he did understand scared him. 'The final solution' 'concentration camps' 'cyanide gas', all of these words frightened Feliciano to no end. He struggled to read on. 'Nazis' 'Aryan race' 'Juden.' The last word Feliciano read confused him.

     "Juden," he whispered, trying to remember where he had heard that word before. It sounded so familiar. Then it hit him: 'Juden' was the German word for 'Jew.' Wait...Jew? Feliciano began piecing the phrases and words together in his mind as he pulled a picture from the file. The Italian's eyes went wide again as he stared at it: it was a picture of Ludwig, standing with another, shorter, man, both of them in German military uniform. Around their left upper arms were bands that looked just like the flag on the window behind him. They had their right arms extended out straight, at a slight angle. Feli's eyes stared at Ludwig's face. He was smiling. The German's smile in the picture was dark and sinister. The small Italian turned around the face the flag on the window, angry tears stinging his eyes. But, the angry tears mixed with tears of fear and disbelief. The picture fell from his small hands as his body went numb.

     "No..." he sobbed. Feliciano collapsed into a heap on the floor, leaning against the desk for support. He sobbed and sobbed, pained hiccups escaping past his lips. His eyes stung, his throat burned, his mouth was as dry as cotton. Feliciano slowly pulled himself up off of the floor, bracing himself up against the desk again. He had never felt more hurt in his entire life. He felt his soul dying deep inside of him. How could Ludwig do this? How could he hide this from him? These questions flew around in his mind as he soon began rummaging through the desk drawers, trying to see through blurry eyes. Once he opened one of the bottom drawers, his fingers felt a familiar cold, and they gripped it. Feliciano blinked away some of his tears as he stared at the metal object he now held in his hands. He turned to his left, so he was facing the wall. It was then that he noticed the mirror. He stared at his own reflection as he raised the weapon to his temple, pressing the unforgiving cold metal against his head. Feliciano took a deep breath, closed his eyes, tightened his finger around the trigger and...BANG!

     Crimson blood sprayed across the Nazi flag, and spattered against the window as Feliciano collapsed. The blood ran down the window, the sunlight filtering through the red. Feliciano's lifeless body lay on the floor, blood beginning to pool around his head, his hand still holding a tight grip on the gun. And, just as the last breath of life pushed its way past the Italian's lips, one final tears dripped down the dead skin of his cheek, and fell into the puddle of blood, mixing with the crimson. Feliciano wasn't just dead, he was gone. His heart was broken, he felt betrayed. His beautiful soul left his body, leaving nothing more than a broken, bleeding husk.