I tried really hard to make this a longer chaoter for you guys, so I really hope you enjoy! By the way, I published a new story, called She's Mine, so be sure to check it out!

MAXON POV

The guards finally came back, after another weeks delay, and we set out to find America. We were each assigned a province, me included. The guards tried to tell me to stay, but I was done waiting. They told me I would search Angeles. I agreed and set out on my journey. I found a small town on the outskirts, figuring I would work my way in. I knocked on every door, asking if they had seen America. Everyone said no, except one grocer. He told me he had seen a redhead, but didn't know if it actually was America. I asked him where she had gone and he pointed to the right. I walked along the path he showed me. I was in a grassy meadow, convinced I was going the wrong way, until suddenly, a grass hut came into view. Maybe she was living there. I ran down the path towards the hut and pounded on the door, no one answered. I opened the door and peeked inside. My heart skipped a beat. There was America, holding a magazine with a picture of me with Kriss on the front, with a knife in her chest.

I dropped to my knees and picked her up in my arms, she weighed nothing, and I realized she had probably starved out here with no money. I cradled her in my lap and felt around for a pulse. She had none. She wasn't breathing either. I called for the emergency helicopter, and we flew America back to the palace. "HELP!" I cried, "someone tried to kill America!" The doctor took one look at the cuts and scratches along her arms and legs, which I had just noticed, and looked up at me.

"King Maxon, this wasn't murder, this was suicide." She looked down at America again.

"WHAT?!" I couldn't believe my ears.

"Your wife killed herself. We can try the heart shocker, but I think she's been dead for at least a day, it probably won't work." She looked sad, but her feelings were nothing compared to mine. America killed herself because of me. No matter what anyone said, this was my fault, I hit her. They brought in the big, looming machine, and tore America's slip dress open so they could place it over her chest, which still had a bra on. The doctor placed her on the floor so she had space. They had removed the knife, but it was infected, and they would have to do surgery that could kill her again, if she woke up in the first place. They pressed the button on the machine and it buzzed, sending electricity to America's heart. Her arms and legs jerked wildly, and there was a sickening crack as her head hit the floor. I turned away, I couldn't look. "Negative," a doctor called. They tried again and again, but America was still dead. "This is the last time," I prayed America would wake up. "Positive, but barely," the doctor called, after America jerked around some more. "She's only alive because of the electricity, she'll die without it, but it's too dangerous to use it anymore." They put America on the bed and she lay still, I felt over her heart, and it was beating, but only once a minute, as the doctor said. They hooked her up to numerous machines, and tubes stuck out of her on every available piece of skin. They weren't helping though, her heart still wasn't beating fast enough. She was still clinically dead. "We'll leave the machines on overnight King Maxon, but if she's not better by morning, there's no hope." With that they left.

I sobbed into her neck, "America, this is all my fault, I did this to you, I'll never forgive myself." Her heart rate sped up a little, and she opened her eyes. When she saw me, terror took over. She tried to scoot away but couldn't without disconnecting the machines.

"Where's Kriss," she whispered with all her strength.

"She married the governor of Kent." America opened her mouth to talk, but I shushed her and sobbed again, "You committed suicide, you've been dead for two days. This is all my fault!" America was about to respond, but just then the heart monitor started beeping frantically. Her heart rate was fading, as was her life. The doctor came rushing in.

"Get the heart shocker, NOW!" A nurse dressed in light blue scrubs rushed to get the machine. America's eyes had fluttered closed again, her heart had stopped. I prayed that the heart shocker would work.

AMERICA POV

Though I could see nothing but blackness, I could hear what was going on as I died, for the second time. Beep! "Negative." Beep! "Negative again." I suddenly floated towards the ceiling. I looked down and was shocked by what I saw. There was me, dying, on the hospital bed. Maxon was cradling my ghostly pale body in his arms as the doctors dejectedly wheeled the heart shocker out of the room. He sobbed into my chest, the chest of the lifeless me, and I felt guilty. I was causing pain to my loving husband. Just then, my family rushed in.

"We heard the news," says my mother. May's face goes white as she sees my corpse, lying still on Maxon's lap. The rest of my family, except Kota crowds around me. They all cry when they see that the doctor has given up hope. I try desperately to go back to my body, but I can feel my self floating further and further away. "We could try one more thing," the doctor says, but her voice comes out strangled and choked. I realize that I am completely dead right now, with virtually no hope of recovering. I hardly breath, well, the ghost of me hardly breathes as they hook up a big machine, my last chance at survival, and turn it on.

Hehe, only I know if America survives or not. I hope this scene with dead America's ghost wasn't too cheesy, if it was, I'm sorry, but I needed America's POV for this chapter to play out how I wanted.

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Hannah