I stand alone looking into the faces of the men who birthed me as well as my two uncles and their allies. They look at me with so much pain and anguish in their eyes. Why should they even care? They didn't when Alfred kept me locked away from the world, nor when New York and Massachusetts decided to burn the "rebel" flag into my back, so why should they care now? "Why Amelia?"

My name is Amelia Kirkland Jones, though recently I dropped the Jones part. I am the representation of the ex-country of The Confederate States of America. For the past 78 years I have been locked away in my father's house but not anymore. I was done with being his good little prisoner so I left. Unfortunately my plan to go and help the injured in the war (the year is 1943 if haven't figured it out yet) has backfired. I was just planning on joining the local nurses unit that was being shipped over and well that part went right. I met a girl named Maria and we quickly became friends and we were always together. When we got France is when it all went wrong. Maria and I got separated from our group and ended up lost in the country side during a major storm.

This is what happened next

Maria and I decided to keep pressing on through the mud and rain, hoping and praying that we would find shelter soon and that we wouldn't be discovered and killed by the Nazis. After what seemed like an eternity, we found a rickety old barn and took shelter in it. Thankfully there was some pretty new hay inside and the roof wasn't leaking near it so I made Maria lie down first and said I'd keep watch. After a little bit of protest, she laid down and automatically fell asleep. I sat near the open doors of the barn and watched as the rain battered the Earth like bullets. If I didn't have to make sure that no one snuck up on us I would have turned away. "This looks too much like last time" I thought aloud. And of course a flash back decided to hit me then. I was back in the out skirts of a burning Atlanta, hiding in a rundown shack, curled up tightly in my uniform jacket, my short hair dripping rain water down my back. I shivered violently trying to keep what little warmth I had left. My entire body hurt as the screams of my people played over and over again through my head. Tears ran down my face as I saw flashes of soldiers and families, of death and tears, but of course the one image that ever always stuck was the look on my dad's face. It was on the last day we attacked Gettysburg. It was the first time I had seen him since Carolina took me away before the war. His face was so hurt and I knew it was because of me. I kept staring out watching the city burn as tears feel down in turrets like the rain when the sound of something snapping pulled me from my flashback. I pulled the knife hidden in my boot out, searching around for the cause of the sound. I couldn't see anything so I slowly crawled backwards to Maria and shook her awake. "Keep quite but there's someone here" I whispered to her. I saw her eyes grow to the size of plates as she began to shiver from fear. "Hide down in the hay while I distract them and no matter what, don't come out until morning, okay? No matter if it's me or an American or anyone." She nodded and I pulled away. "Good. Just keep heading north and you'll find the soldiers. Be careful and don't get caught. Good luck my friend." I whispered, ran out to the edge of the door, and carefully looked around. I saw a man facing the opposite direction from me so I snuck up behind him and placed the knife at his throat. He stiffened visibly and shifted to try and attack me. "Don't even think about it" I said, making my voice sound as deep and gruff as possible. I knew he couldn't understand me but he stopped moving due to the tone of my voice. "Move" I said while I pushed him forward, walking him away from the barn. Unfortunately for me though as we got down the road a little ways, I tripped and knocked us both into a ditch, cutting my leg on the knife. "Shit" I cursed as I looked down and saw it bleeding badly. I ripped my knapsack open and pulled out bandages and alcohol. I pulled the cork out of the bottle and pored some onto the wound, yelping out as it began to sting. I pushed the cork back in, then began to wrap it as the man started to stir. I quickly finished bandaging myself, found my knife and scrambled out of the ditch. I took off down the road, placing my objects back into my bag, hoping I was going north. I kept run/limping until I saw a town in the distance. I slowed down and tried to appear like I meant to be there. I walked into town with a plan.