Final Moments

This is a one-shot of Prim's final moments before she died. If you enjoy, please leave a review :)

I'm scared.

No.

More like I'm terrified.

I'm allowed to help. This big step could set me up to be a doctor in no time. President Coin insisted- her exact words were, "Why don't you help in the battle? You would be closer to your sister, after all. Go on. You would be a terrific help." And I took her word for it. The very idea of seeing Katniss again motivates me to do anything, whether I'm risking my life to help people in battle or silently cheering for her when she went into the hunger games- twice. I gave my mother one quick hug before I left, determined to know her warmth as I left. Her final words to me before I left were, be brave, Primrose.

I tilt my small head downwards and stare at my shoes. We are about to leave- about to storm President Snow's mansion. And yes, I'm terrified.

What if I die?

I've considered this possibility over and over. What if I die? Shaking in my boots and white coat, I ponder those four words. What if I die?

I inhale sharply. Be brave. Like Katniss. I exhale deeply. Be brave. Everyone needs you to be brave. If you're scared while somebody's dying, that is not going to do you any good.

I can be brave. Pulling together my senses, I stand up straight, fix my posture, and clench my fists. If I die, then it will be for a good cause.

Walk.

Then run.

We're moving. Going to President Snow's mansion. In order to keep pace with the older, more experienced, I have to run. We're going out into the open. I can hear the sound of gunfire, the smell of smoke, and the noise of yelling, shouting, a screaming. Screams of agony. Screams of hate and death.

There's a flurry of small explosions. I hear the screams of children.

Children? What purpose do they have on this battlefield?

Terror is coursing through my blood. Whipping my blonde braids over one shoulder, I push my way past other medics and run towards the children. I hear cries of, "the rebels! The rebels!"

I don't even stop to look for Katniss.

The first child I come to has short, sticky brown hair and a small nose. It's a young boy. The ground is littered with several small parachutes… the ones they sent out in the Hunger Games. Kneeling down, I pull off my white coat and use it to cover the child. "You're going to be all right," I murmur.

For a brief moment I consider what that means. "You're going to be all right," I echo. But is he going to be all right? Is anyone going to be all right?

"Prim!"

I know it's her. I turn and see my sister, armed and alone, calling my name. "Prim!"

"Katniss!"

Then all I see is red, and then everything goes black.