Disclaimer: I do not own Mockingjay or anything like that.
Ever since I can remember, I was a healer. Whenever my mother was taking care of someone that was hurt, I wanted to help. At first I would fetch medicine and utensils, but as I got older, my mother would let me do more. She allowed me to stitch wounds or change the dressing.
Right now I can't think of those pleasant memories, I have to do my job. I am only thirteen, but I know that I have seen more blood and more injured people than anyone I know that is my age. I imagine being rich like the kids that I see once were. I imagine getting everything that I want and then being forced to be a human shield.
Someone behind me tells me to take care of one of the many injured children. When I see her all I want to do is cry, but I remember what my instructor told me. If I cry, it will only scare my small patient even more. I realize that this little girl would be so beautiful with her blonde hair and gorgeous blue dress that is far too expensive for an eight year old in my opinion. Her blonde ringlets are burned and dirty and her once magnificent dress is torn and covered in dirt and blood. She is pale white because she is cold, which is practically impossible since she was just hit by a hot explosion. I examine her injuries and cover her with my jacket.
Shock almost freezes me as I notice that her left arm is missing. All that is left is a bloody stump with parts of muscle coming out of it, but I have been trained thoroughly and I know exactly what to do. She whimpers when I pull out a syringe, but something stops me. I hear my name being called. But it isn't just my name: it is Katniss calling my name.
I barely have time to spot her before I hear another explosion. At first I don't notice the pain, but after a couple of seconds, the adrenaline goes away and all I want to do is die. My wish is not granted and all I have time to do is glance at my sister with an expression on my face that will haunt her forever.
