I must go limp, because I find myself at the base of the flagpole, unable to account for the last few seconds. Then I am pushing through the crowd, just as I did before. Trying to shout her name above the roar. I'm almost there, almost to the barricade, when I think she hears me. Because for just a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name.

And that's when the rest of the parachutes go off.

That moment replays in my head over and over. I expect it to lose meaning, like saying a word or phrase too many times, but it stings the same every single time. I can only assume I am stuck in a land of drug induced sleep while the doctors try to fix me. I'd rather be dead than have to watch my sister die over and over. Sometimes I try to change the scene, focus on a happier time in my life. Hunting with my father, or being on the roof of the training center with Peeta before going into the Games a second time. It always ends up the same way. The trees burst into flame, or the building across the way explodes. Either way, Prim's dead and I can't save her.

After what seems like ages, I am able to open my eyes. I can tell there is a large amount of morphling in my system, and I am thankful for it. I try to look around, but my eyes won't budge from the position they are in. I am stuck staring at the curtain surrounding my hospital bed. I hear various faint beeps to my left, and I assume they are my monitors, even though I can't see them. I try to raise my arm to wipe my eyes and hopefully figure out what is going on with me, but my muscles don't seem to respond to my commands. As I start to panic, the curtain is pulled back, and a nurse hurries in and checks the monitors to my left. A doctor follows soon after, and they remain silent for a minute or two while the nurse scribbles my vitals on a paper. She hands a clipboard to the doctor, who is just in my range of vision. He looks it over, and sighs.

"At this rate, it looks like there's nothing else to do." His voice is full of sorrow, and the nurse, who is in my peripherals, looks at him, confused.

"Doctor, you can't mean…we can't pull the plug. She's the Mockingjay!" I am irritated that no one will talk to me straight. I'm a human being, after all. I want answers. I try to tell them this, but my mouth doesn't move and my voice makes no noise at all. They must have me under a sedation drug.

"The Mockingjay won't do us any good when she's comatose," the doctor says with a harsh but sympathetic tone in his voice. "By the looks of these vitals, she's never coming back."

Suddenly, everything makes sense. Pieces of a puzzle slam together, and I realize what the conversation means. The reason I am unable to move my arms, the reason I can't speak, or even rotate my eyes isn't an effect of some drug. It's an effect of falling from a very high pole, and then running straight into an explosion, as opposed to away from it. I'm in a coma. Except, I am acutely aware of this fact.

The nurse is quiet, and I think I see her brush a tear from her eye. "After all she's done for the cause, we can't do anything to save her," she shakes her head slowly. The doctor lowers his eyes, waits a moment, and then exits my bed area the way he came. The nurse walks close to my bed, pats my foot, and whispers an apology. Then, she exits as well.

I want to scream, but, of course, I can't. I can't do anything. I'll never do anything again. Even if I could speak, I wouldn't know what to say.

The conversation repeats over and over in my head until I completely understand it. Then, I repeat what I know until I fall into a dreamless sleep.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am from District 12. District 12 was bombed. I tried to kill President Snow. Instead, President Snow killed my sister. Primrose Everdeen is dead. So is Finnick Odair. So are thousands of citizens of Panem, rebels and supporters alike. It is all my fault. Now, I am in a coma. I will be dead soon.