A/N: Southern Angst! Woot woot!
And remember, I'm a DISCLAIMER! I do NOT own Hetalia Axis Powers or Hetalia World Series, and I'm just an obsessive fangirl writing a fanfic.
This IS historically based, but adapted for fictional purposes.
What made Shaylene so bitter? Why do Southern States often times despise Northerners? What could have forever killed Southern America?
What was she thinking of?
What made her turn to face the rain that had begun to fall?
What made her cling to the cold glass?
What made her start to cry?
Shaylene opened her eyes to see that all the people who were standing around happily below her studio in the city had now scattered like the filthy roaches they were.
'Those damn Northerners, they're the reason why I'm like this… The reason I can't find rest… The reason why I'm all alone and bitter… The reason why I'm dead…'
Then Shaylene focused her eyes past them, and fell into the darkness of her thoughts.
She thought of when she was on her way to battle. Of when she had on the hideous, pale blue uniform, and was on her way to command the ungrateful men who didn't even want her to represent the South. She was standing in the corner of the doorway of the plantation she had once been "employed" at. It hurt her so much. She didn't want to be there in battle for people who wanted her enslaved. She also didn't want to lose to the damn Yanks in fear of her representing a weak, South. She could either go for or against her Southern pride, and saying as she was minutes away from going into battle, it seemed as if she was going for it.
She let a tear escape down her cheek, and pulled her head out of the corner so that she could wipe it away. Then she turned around, and slid against the wall until she was in a depressed position. She pulled her legs as close to her chest as they could suffice, and let all her anger escape into her lap, and seep into her uniform. The tears and the fury just leaked out of her, and she didn't stop them, because she needed to be right there in the battle, and not be all distracted.
"Shaylene, Shaylene Charlotte?" a man called from in front of her.
She lifted her head, and sniffled one last time, "Yeah, it's me."
"Why the hell you cryin'? Get up, get up now, we got ourselves a war to win," her boss said as he grabbed her, and pulled her to her feet.
"Okay, fine then, God! You think I don't know that? That's the exact reason why I'm cryin', dammit!" she snapped.
He shook his head and walked out of the front door.
Shaylene was worried due to fact that this was their first battle in August and their battle in July, the Battle of Atlanta, didn't end too well. What would she do if they failed to win this battle? Would she still be a good representative of the South? Would they all hate her? What would she do…?
Shaylene cringed in the present as she remembered that during the Battle of Mobile Bay in Alabama, they also lost Tennessee. She flapped her fingers at the tears beginning to form in her eye ducts, and pulled her head back from the windowsill. She then looked around the still, quiet room around her, and wondered if she really had a friend in the world.
She was sad that she didn't even have a pet or anything. All she had was the comfort of emotionless, inanimate objects such as her computer and iPod. Then she released the breath that she didn't know she was holding, batted her lashes, and turned back to the window so that she could reflect a bit more on her war memories.
Shaylene was hurt pretty badly during her battle in Alabama, and was separated from her group, so she limped her way back to Savannah. She passed by many towns where people were crying deeply and holding bloodied loved ones. Most of them cast their watery eyes to her, and she looked away with a guilty feeling in her gut.
In every town she passed, no one would talk to her, and their buildings would be scarred by the flames that must have recently licked at them. She wondered why the dead corpses and burnt shacks were a common sight, but pushed the thought out of her head, and moved on towards Savannah.
There was one time where she strayed from the towns, and went to look for food in a more industrial area. Instead, she came across a tree with iron bars wrapped around it. She gasped in shock as she realized that someone tore up the railroad, and disrespected the tree. She reached out to touch the former-train track, and found herself collapsing in front of it. Instead of fainting like she thought she would, she broke into a series of hysterical crying.
"Sherman's Neckties," a raspy voice said beside her.
She looked to the left to see that there was a young man sitting beside her. He literally had dirty blond hair. His pale green eyes were lifeless, and his clothes were tattered and hanging by their last threads.
"What?" she asked softly as she stared ahead at the tree.
"They call 'em Sherman's Neckties," he said as he turned to talk to hear.
"Aren't you afraid of talkin' to me? What with my skin color and all…" she muttered.
"Nah, I know who you are, so I'll overlook that at this time," he said with a soft smile.
"Humph, who are you?" she asked a little bitterly.
"Don't you worry about that, just know that I'm here to give you this," he said as he extended a small letter.
"Okay…" she said as she grabbed it, and ripped the letter open.
She read it once over, and then she read it once again. By the time the words sunk in, her mouth was agape.
"T-They-What…? No…they couldn't have," she said as she looked longingly into his eyes.
"I know you long for me to say no, but I'm sorry, you are no longer the Confederate States of America," the boy said.
She looked at him. He couldn't be a day over 20, so maybe he doesn't know that this is not the sort of thing you tease about. His facial expression deepened with sorrow. He wasn't teasing her.
"Well I don't know about you, but I'm not giving up that easily!" Shaylene shouted at the guy as she jumped up.
He looked at her as if she were an absolute idiot.
She laughed, winked, and raised her right hand so as to make a peace sign, "It can't get much worse!"
Shaylene shook her head at her own stupidity, and released some more pent up anger. She cried and cried until the tears burned her cheeks, and she could taste the mix of sorrow and salt in her tears. Then she hit her head to the glass of the window once more, and recollected some more.
"Well, this is it, isn't it Shay?" Alfred asked her as he stood across from her on the battlefield.
Shaylene shook her head with the rage she had buried deep into her soul. Then she raised her voice and yelled like she had never yelled before, "I don't care how shameful you are! Referring to me in such an informal way, killing my people, burning our crops, spitting at us, and disrespecting everything we stand for! I don't care! But I'll let you know what Mr. Jones, you can kill whoever and whatever you want, but you aren't gonna kill my damn Southern Pride. THAT-sure as there is a heaven, and there is a hell-AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN!"
"Is that so?" Alfred asked with a sick look on his face. "'Cause I sholl do begs t' diffa'" Alfred spat in a mocking tone.
Shaylene narrowed her eyes, channelled all of her hate, and steadied her gun, "I beg the same."
And with that, both sides began their shooting. Both Shaylene and Alfred avoided the gunfire, and stared at each other with hateful faces the entire time. And it continued to be a battle for about two days. To Shaylene, it seemed like a series of pictures flashing before her eyes during the course of an hour. During the third day, all hell broke loose.
Shaylene had figured she was winning. She had succeeded in containing Mower, and forcing his men to retreat some. What she didn't know was that they didn't do it entirely on their own; they ironically had assistance from Sherman, the monster who destroyed Georgia.
Sometime during dawn, the Union bastards followed them. They had taken her by such a surprise that she had completely stopped, and stared at them. The troops completely ignored her, and pursued her troops instead.
After the mass of troops passed over her, she turned around to see Alfred staring at her. He gave a defiant smile, and stated, "You lost, war over."
She shook her head, and pulled her gun out. She steadied it, just as Alfred steadied his, and just when she was about to kill him, he shot her. She doubled over, and fell down the hill. When she was sprawled on the ground in a mess of shambles, she searched for her wound, and saw that he shot her near the chest. She picked her head up to see Alfred standing there with a panicked look.
He dropped his gun once he made eye contact, and began to approach her, but someone called him from his forces, and he stopped. They called him again, and he looked from Shaylene back to his troops. Shaylene fixed her lips to call to him, but he shook his head, and ran away to his troops.
She dropped her head, and let the darkness of her heart overcome her.
It was then and there that she had decided to hate Northerners.
It's now and here that's she's decided to never love again.
A/N: I got most of my information from:
http:/militaryhistory .about. com/od/civilwar/p/marchtosea .htm
^ remove the spaces, and bingo was his name-o
The United States Civil War was a war which resulted in African American males being able to vote and African American people being freed from slavery.
In writing this, I am not supporting the Confederacy *rolls eyes at those who require this knowledge*, I'm simply saying that things such as the March to Sea really devastated Georgia, and other Southern States.