I remember.
How the floor beneath my feet shook and dust rained down from the ceiling. The frightened, somber faces of the people huddled around me. The cracks in the stone floor and the speck of green emerging from one.
I remember.
When a bomb hit the building across the street, shattering the windows of the store we were hiding in. How the other children whimpered and clung tightly to their mothers. The way people stared at us: me in my mother's lap as she muttered nonsense in my ear. She held me to her bosom and I was grateful for her warmth. Sometimes when the foundation shook violently, she would scream. My mother's shrill voice had terrified me, yet I instinctively reached for her. I would comfort her with my baby ramblings, for I was able to walk but not form proper words.
I remember.
That as her sea-green eyes refocused on me, she smiled. A smile void of insanity. A smile overflowing with nothing short of love. A smile so endearing that I giggled and touched my tiny hand to her cheek. For a moment I could believe that my world wasn't falling down around me.
I was aware, yet I didn't understand what was happening that day. I didn't understand why these loud, heavy machines suddenly dropped from the sky. They landed with such force they left craters. To me, they looked like awkward, gray birds: two thick legs, a fat body, and a long, narrow beak.
Everyone just sort of stared dumbfounded at them.
I thought they were kind of cool looking. I even believed they might be on our side.
But when have the odds ever been in the Districts' favor?
It took them a moment to 'wake up' and stretch their legs, but when they did...the bloodbath began. Tearing through the streets, beams of light erupted from their gaping maw, slicing off limbs and leaving people smoldering on the ground. People tried to run. Oh, they tried.
My mother took my in her arms and ran the other way. She never looked back, but I could see everything over her shoulder.
A man with a hook stuck in his beard hobbled after us until two machines reduced him to a cloud of ash dispersed on the wind. A woman ushered three small young children into a bakery before the front door was blasted off its hinges.
Looking down, I watched the ground pass by as my mother carried me towards a man waving his arms wildly. She darted past him and we descended into darkness as he swung the cellar doors shut behind us.
I remember.
How even the coughing ceased, when thundering steps were heard just outside. The eerie silence as my mother held her breath, her eyes shining like a feral animal's from the light filtering in through the floorboards above us.
Then the threat stormed away into the distance and my mother gasped for air. Several people sighed and someone burst out crying.
I remember.
The whistle of a bullet piercing the air and the sharp clang of metal. The smell of gunpowder as it drifted in with the draft. People were yelling outside, shooting at the machines. The very horror we would eventually call: The Enforcers.
Days passed...then weeks…
I had no concept of time back then. Everything felt either too long or too short.
The guns firing, the Enforcers' rampage...it all dragged on too long.
I didn't know what was wrong, but my mother was suffering. Occasionally, she'd set me next to her, cover her ears, and scream. Then I would cover my ears too. There were always people trying to sooth her, shush her, or-and I hated the sound of it-slap her. Apparently, it was the only way to get her to stop because the sting of it caught her attention more than the raging chaos outside.
Suddenly, she broke down sobbing and my eyes watered, so I rubbed at them.
I remember.
How one night we left the massive bunker of District 13 and dashed away into the waning moonlight. While many thought we were mad-as they already suspected of my mother-we were the blessed ones. For as fate would have it: the Enforcers reached the secluded compound and tore its insides out.
People were dragged out and any who put up a fight were slaughtered mercilessly. After a few Enforcers charged into the bunker, black smoke started escaping. A narrow stream became a wide tower rising into the hazy sky.
The stench of sulfur and burning flesh made my nose crinkle. Luckily, we were already dipping over the horizon, a barren hill slowly blocking my view completely.
I remember.
The way my mother's silky dress rippled in the breeze. The warmth of her hand encasing mine. I barely stood as tall as her knees.
Waves rolled onto shore in an array of colors: red, orange, yellow, and pink. The sun steadily rose in the sky to reveal our surroundings.
Wiggling my toes, I buried my feet in the squishy sand. It felt cool against my skin and I bent down to grab some of it. Without warning, the tide came in and startled me into dropping my handful of sand. I looked up at my mother, but she was staring off into the distance. She seemed mesmerized by the never-ending waves.
I remember.
When they found us holding hands on the beach, watching the tide come and go. The moment of weightlessness as my mother yanked me into her arms. The sound of her desperate cries as they grabbed her.
Smelling the salt that hung so thickly in the air that I could open my mouth and taste it.
I remember.
The figure of a man standing in my footprints as my mother and I are shoved into a flying machine-a hovercraft I would later recall. The flash of sea-green eyes that didn't belong to my mother. He raised his arm and a trident appeared in his hand. To me, he looked about to throw it into the back of the man who gets in after us.
I blink.
He's gone.
I remember how I've been wronged.
I will not forget who I am. I won't let them change me. I'll be strong for my mother. I'll honor my father.
And I will fight for my future.