That "joke" America played on me... I will never forget that. That was the worst thing that had ever happened to me...

What's wrong with me?

Is that my blood?

... No, it's not. My wounds healed already.

Then who's blood is it?

It's on my hands...

My shirt...

Is that a knife beside me?

It's bloody.

That body...

America?

No...

No.

No! That wasn't me!

Or was it?
--
Author's Note: Maybe this needs a bit of explianation.

You see, America once played a "joke" on North Italy. It didn't go so well. Italy had wound up lost in a warehouse. America had apparently been following him. When America attacked Italy, he tried to fend him off, but ended up nearly losing his vision in his left eye. Italy escaped from America, but ran into a turret. His left arm and right leg were injured badly and he was brought to the hospital by England.
Italy really never forgave America, and now... Something bad happened.
Is it his fault?

This is based of the events of a roleplay.