Bleeding Out

Real Boy

  This is what he deserved.
Sometimes he would keep America up at night, seeing all those innocent faces he blindly hated. Just because they were human, and their skin was a different shade than what the majority thought outta be the right color.
He's think about how he hated so blindly and stupidly. Did he lead them to make their little klans and riots? Or was it his battle-flag corpse they were waving around on a stick for "white purity"? It made him recoil. He wanted to throw up. If he had his own body he would've. But America would take a drink of water from his bedside, settle into the pillows, and tell Dixie to shut up.
(He would then give Dixie about an hour long speech, that yes he used to be a bad person. But that he changed, that there was hope. That no, just because a few wretched people polluted America's land didn't mean that that was what Dixie was. And if anything, it was America's fault, his responsibility.)
All in all, Dixie was fine where he was.
  Not exactly happy, but fine. But he liked it this way. It's what he deserved.
He couldn't eat anything, but he could somewhat taste it. Like he was licking a memory or something. So the delicious, lovely, wafting scent of the creamy, crispy, heavenly apple pie was torture to him. But he wouldn't let America hear that. It would be another thing the country would want to deal with- not that Dixie cared at all.
  America hummed in delight as the steamy Apple Pie touched his tounge, and Dixie grabbed a hold of the memory before it slipped away.
I miss apple pie. His thoughts thundered around in America's head.
Sorry not sorry. America thought back. I wanna enjoy this. So stop complaining.
  Ug. I miss eating in general. I can't believe I died before potato chips were a thing.
  You're not technically dead.
  True. Potato chips, Cheetos, all the foods he never got to try... (He didn't really regret not being able to really taste Talkies though.)
  "Daaaaaaaad! Mississippi's using all the whipped creeeeeam!"
  America's head turned and Dixie tracked his eyeline to Hawaii, who was hanging by the arm of Mississippi.
"I'm not taking all of it!" The older state declared. "We have tons more in the fridge!"
"'Sippi give some to Hawaii."
  Dixie chuckled as Mississippi reluctantly handed over the can of spray cream. You baby them too much.
  America sighed aloud. Perhaps.
  Dixie smiled to himself. Well, as much as he could smile. He always admired America's love for his kids from a distance. The U.S. was going through... a lot right now, and at least America's head was on straight. Well, for the most part.
  Dixie's conscience stretched out and observed the States as they chatted around the long table. New Mexico and Nevada were talking as Alaska fanned Arizona (another fire had perked up on his arm, and he didn't seem to notice), Missouri was teasing Montana, and Alabama was-

  What was that.
  Dixie froze. What the-
  And then pain.
  Hot, searing pain.
  It was like an explosion that numbed his entire body. Dixie wanted to shriek in agony- but he couldn't.
  America seemed to notice. Dixi-
  His vision spotting as the light sucked out of him, spinning out of control. He was choking, sputtering as the thing began to pull him out.
    He screamed.

  "DAD!!!?"
"DAD WHAT'S WRONG!?!"
  Everything was on fire. Numb. Hot. Bad. Bad bad bad bad bad bad bad-
  "DAD ANSWER ME!"
  He was being torn in half. He felt himself split down the sides, like someone had driven a knife straight through his brain and began to saw down his body-
Smack!
  Dixie hit something hard. Cold. Cold was good. Cold was better then hot.
  His breath came out in sharp, ragged breaths-
His breath.
  Dixie inhaled and exhaled. In and out. Filling his lungs with air. His heart was thundering around in his chest. His muscles were screaming at him to sit up from the awkward position he was in. So he did.
  His legs groaned under his wait as he shifted up, feeling his back and neck stretch for the first time in one hundred and fifty years. Dixie stretched out his arms, observing them as he tilted his head at his newly found appendages. He flexed his fingers, watching in wonder as a small achiness swirled around in his joins, the shambles of clothing that barley covered him brushing against his skin.
  He was corporeal.
  Dixie looked up, finally deciding to discover his surroundings. He looked at the States. Huh. Dixie didn't think he'd ever seen them this surprised before. No. Surprised wasn't the word. Oh well. He would find that word later.
  In a smooth motion, he swung forward on his feet and stood up. He grabbed the edge of the table for balance as he continued to look around. The second thing that stood out to him was the Apple Pie that was perched on the edge of the table. He opened his mouth to speak.
  "Apple Pie... is good."
  The States went berserk.  
  "SOMEONE GRAB HIM!"
  Dixie wasn't going anywhere. His gaze was fixated on the pie. "Mm."
  Suddenly he was shoved down into a chair and snapped back into reality.
  "Hey!"
  His voice was but hoarse and rather gruff, but it felt right as it tumbled around in his throat.
  "Someone make sure Dad's ok!"
Dad? Who's Dad? Dixie looked over to see- America?
  Dixie tried to move towards him- but he couldn't. He looked down to see a bright pink jump rope had been tied around his waist and upper arms, restraining him. In response he thrashed around. "I need to help him!"
  The States ignored him.
  "What do we do?!"
  "Move him to the living room!"
  "Which one!"
  "I- both!"
  Dixie struggled as he watched Texas scoop up America like he was a feather. Right. Super strength.
  As a herd of children followed Texas into the living room, Dixie was left with a couple of lagging States, who began to push him into the room where they had taken his brother.
  "Is he ok?" Dixie tried to peer around the States, but with all fifty of 'em it was impossible. He still tried, straining against the princess-themed jump rope.
  "Shut up." California growled. Texas had just finished arranging Ame on the couch, his face twisted in pain even though he was unconscious. Pennsylvania handed a blanket to Delaware, and he began to tuck it around his father. Dixie didn't know if it was for comfort or privacy.
  Dixie, knowing he wasn't going to get any answers, forced himself to relax.
  "I need a blanket."
  Cali scrunched her nose at him. "Why?"
  "If you haven't noticed," Dixie sniffed, "when a country splits in two, half the clothes go with them. I need to cover up or the lil' ones will be scarred for life."
  He didn't think it was possible, but the Californian's face got even more scrunchy like. "Fine." She snapped, marching over with a blanket.
  She tossed it around his shoulders and it settled around his half-naked body. "What did you do to Dad?"