If 3's a Crowd, 50's Too Much

American

Alaska's P.O.V.

I stood there, stopped by what Texas had said. Why? Why did he have to say that? He knows I try so hard to be American. I try to be outgoing and loud like the others. But I can't

I can't.

I had gotten mad at Texas and Texas got mad at me. It was normal. But why did it feel so bad this time? Was it because dad was getting insulted? Because he mentioned my accent?

I tried to move, but I couldn't. I was stuck.

Useless

Russian

Too quiet

Pathetic

Too serious

Not American

Those words stung  not American but I am American. I'm a state right? Right? He knows I'm a state, he's not that dumb, so why would he say that? After he knows I worked so hard to stop the Russian in me. I prayed, I took classes, I cried so much my eyes always hurt, I slapped myself, punched myself, cut myself, shot myself, but nothing worked. It was still there. Something I wanted to go away so badly was unable to leave me and it scared me. Would Mr. America disown me and give me back to Mr. Russia because of my accent? What if he sells me back to Mr. Russia after realizing I'm useless? What if Mr. Russia just takes me back himself? That's my number one fear, going back to Mr. Russia. I would never ever EVER want to go back there.

Tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I didn't let them, I wouldn't let them. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't, I can't. I dropped Alabama and I ran. I ran as fast as I could around the building into the city. I ran and ran as I felt hot tears start to travel down my cheeks. I was crying? I haven't cried in years. What Texas said hurt though.

Not American

Not American

Not American

NOT AMERICAN

the words rang through my head, they drilled their way into my brain and stayed there I wanted to shake it of so badly but instead the words shook me.

I eventually found a dark alleyway and ran into it, hiding behind a large blue dumpster. It smelled horrible but I didn't notice it at the time. I just curled up and cried, I cried harder than I've ever cried before.

Maybe Mr. Russia should take me back. I deserve to be tortured and hurt, I deserve to die over and over again, I deserve all the pain in the world. I want to take dad's pain, Montana's pain from the suicides of her people, Hawaii's pain from Pearl Harbor, New Yorks pain from 9/11, Florida's pain from her hurricanes, California's pain from her fires. I deserve all the pain.

All my thoughts suddenly stopped when I felt warm arms around me, taking away the coldness of my thoughts and throwing them away. My tears stopped rolling down my cheeks and I looked up from my knees and saw a large figure, it was blonde and had a small flicked up piece of hair on its head. Mr. America?

He saved me again.

He then looked back at me with his icey blue eyes and gave me a worried look, like one of a mother. I hugged him back, not wanting the warmth to leave me and drop me back into my thoughts. I winced when I heard a loud voice with a strong British accent

"America do you know this child??!"