Bleeding Out

Fire and Brimstone

This is my fault.
Would you shut up?
America winced as he pulled open his button-up shirt, revealing several small splintered cracks that were sprouting from his heart. He sighed and leaned back, the springs in his bed creaking as he glared at the mirror that had been propped up on the cream-colored wall.
It's really not that bad. Just some flextape will do. Maybe a hot glue gun.
Dixie was not in the mood for America's humor. It gets worse every day. And it's because of me.
Why would you think that.
Look around, Ame. It is because of me. People are hating and destroying things and it's my fault. Again.
You aren't even corporeal anymore. You have no effect on the world.
Dixie just growled.
America sighed out loud, running his hands down his face. It was true that Dixie had been louder in his thoughts than normal. And by louder, he meant less... muffled. He still remembered the confusion of when Dixie appeared in his head. How he had just driven a bayonet through his heart, how thousands of cracks splintered through his body, and how he shattered into dust. Then the exact phrase What in hell?
He felt his other half stomp around in his brain, rummaging through his memories, trying to find some proof that he was the reason his States kept bursting into flames.
Stop that. America thought at his brother. You're making my brain hurt.
Why won't you just let me die. I'm sure a lobotomy would do.
Don't say stuff like that.
Why not? Hey, no! I've got a better idea! Let's just let you die instead!
"You are not the reason this is happening!"
It took America a few seconds to realize that he had said that out loud. He sighed, sitting up, and put his head in his hands. You're the only one, Dix.
That what?
That believes in me.
You and I both know that isn't true. And if it were, I wouldn't really want someone like me believing in you.
America ran his hands through his hair. Then why does it feel that way?
"Dad!" A voice rang outside the door, and some knocking. "Minne's on fire again!"
America pulled himself up, snapping his buttons into place. "I'm coming!"
You need to tell them what's happening to you.
They have plenty of things to worry about.
The country ran down the stairs and out the door, almost running into California.
"How bad is it?"
"Not that bad. Just her arm."
"How long? "
"A couple of minutes. We thought we had it under control, but it started spreading."
America bit his lip. He jogged down the stairs, and a large group of states had gathered around a couch.
"Back up! Let Dad through!"
"Give her some air, she's gonna pass out again."
"Why can't we just dunk her in the pool again?"
"Arizona out of all the terrible ideas you've had that one has got to be the worst."
"Papa! New Jersey called me stupid!"
"Did not!"
America pushed his way through the sea of children and saw they had propped Minnesota's head up with a pillow. Her face contracted pain, and she had he eyes squeezed tight. Her arm was a charcoal mess. A spark of flames flicked out of the wound occasionally.
"No." Minnesota rolled her eyes as she saw her dad approaching. "Gerogia is you got him im going to kill you. This is my problem-"
"Minnesota, please." America looked at his daughter.
She shrugged, turning her trembling frame away from him. "I've had way worse."
"Let's all take a little bit." New Mexico said, his monotone voice sliced through the silence.
America sighed. "Would that help?"
Despite the determination on her face, her watery eyes made America shift in front of her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, and took a deep breath. He felt his States place their hands on his arms, and when there wasn't enough room left them that were left put their hands on the states' that were touching him.
"Don't even think about just channeling it to you Dad."
"Ya, we can tell!"
Give some to me too.
Americ chuckled and began the process.
He and his States were connected, so he could take away their pain and visa versa. Although he usually never let them. He hated hurting his kids.
The process felt strange. It was like drinking poison. Like you were draining them of the thing that was causing them to lose life. After the tingling sensation, you got pain. Sharp, raw pain.
He had taken small things for his states. Knee scrapes, stubbed toes, and an occasional broken bone. But this was different. The pain was coming from the heart. Fire burning you from the inside. It wasn't pleasant.
He felt Dix hiss softly as he passed some of the pain to him. Don't hold it back. I can take it.
If I give you anymore I'll get a massive headache.
He heard each of the states grunt, yip, or moan of pain as he passed some to them. Soon the strange sensation was gone, but the fire was still there. He looked down at his arm, not very surprised to see a patch of burned skin that would heal in a few days.
He removed his hands from Minne's shoulders and stood up. Minnesota relaxed back into her propped up- pillow. America took note that the flame was gone but the burn didn't shrink.
"Well," Texas said, observing the burn on his arm. "when you said we'd bee spending 'more time together Pap I never thought it would be like this." He flexed his arm and some of the other states were also observing their burn marks.
America wanted to think of something clever to say, but the atmosphere of the room seemed to want to choke him. He only smiled at Texas, thankful that his son was doing his best to lighten the mood. "Who wants some Apple Pie?"