(The Next Day)

        I was back in the bunker, trying to drown out the sounds that were going on outside, when suddenly, a commotion erupted among the people who were here. A soldier had burst in, breathless, shouting for all medical personnel to grab supplies and follow him.
        I jumped to my feet, grabbed some of my supplies, and followed the small group of people outside. We were told that there had been a mass casualty incident only a few blocks away. My breath catches as we navigate the shattered streets; the sights and sounds are horrendous. Broken storefronts, the remains of what were once people's homes, and the smell of smoke assaulted my sinuses.
        Upon arriving at the scene, I realized that the feeling of shock or sadness had left my body. With grim determination, I dive into the fray, attending to the bodies that were strewn across the ground, some moving, others still. The heart-wrenching cries of families searching for their loved ones ring in my ears as I go through, finding those who can be saved.
        I found myself kneeling next to a boy; he had to have been my age. I could see blood had soaked the front of his shirt; he was taking in quick, sharp breaths while his eyes darted around, panicking.
        "Hey, you’re safe now, and I’m going to take care of you. Can you focus on taking some deep breaths?" I instructed him, having him follow my lead as we took in deep breaths together, "Good, good, I'm going to look at your wound, okay?"
        I reached for him; his eyes kept moving around erratically. "M-My family. Wh-Where is my family?"
        "My men are doing what they can for your family... Can you tell me your name? I'm Nicole Tucker; I'm the Healing Alchemist."
        I had my hands placed on the wound that was in his gut. He tried to crawl back into the rubble that was piled up behind him, calling for his parents and siblings.
        "Hey, we need to focus on you right now. I'm almost done here." I watched the red glow fade away, leaving a pink mark where his wound once was.
        I reached into my bag for food and water. By the time I turned back, the cold eye of a gun was staring me down. My breath hitched, and my hands rose on their own, too afraid to move any faster.
        "This is your fault! If you state alchemists hadn't come here in the first place, we would've been just fine! I would still have my home, my friends, and my family!" He cried, his hands trembling, tears streaming down his face.
        “You’re right… I can’t undo what’s been done. I don’t expect forgiveness, but killing me won’t bring them back. If you pull that trigger, nothing will change.” I felt my heart pounding in my chest, but I stayed as calm and collected as I could while I talked this guy down. You could tell he didn't want to hurt anyone; he was just suffering like everyone else around us.
        I slowly reached my hand out. "Let me help you. Not as a State Alchemist, not as an enemy, but as someone who doesn’t want to see you or your people suffer any more than you already have."
        I noticed his eyes seemed to grow softer, and the trembling slowed. A feeling of relief washed over me.
        "He's got a gun; get down!"
        Time slowed; the boy tightened his grip on the gun again. A shot flew past my ear, causing me to fall to the side completely disoriented; a sharp pain filled my ear.
        I caught a glance of the boy; the color in his eyes faded as he slumped over at my feet, blood quickly soaking the back of his shirt. I reached over, touching his skin, only to quickly draw my hand back when I realized he was gone.
        I found myself on my feet facing the guy who had his handgun still pointed my way.
        "What the hell, he was surrendering the gun to me! He didn't deserve to die!" I yelled, ignoring my blurred vision and lightheadedness.
        Angry looks were exchanged between the few officers that were behind me; the one who pulled the trigger had gotten up and gripped the front of my uniform, pulling me close to his face.
        "Who the hell do you think you are? Yelling at the person who just saved your life, I would be more grateful!" His grip on my uniform was crushing, knuckles white, spittle hitting my face as he shouted. The veins in his neck bulged with rage, but all I could see was the boy’s lifeless eyes staring up at me from the dirt.
        I forced my trembling hands to press against his wrist.
        "Let go of me." My voice was sharp, even if it cracked.
        I noticed officers behind him shifted. I could feel their stares boring into me.
        "You’re out of line. He just saved your life, and all you can do is whine about some enemy brat? Pathetic." Corporal Reyes sneered.
        "You think that kid would’ve hesitated if the roles were reversed? You saw the look in his eyes. He was waiting for a chance to take you out, and we all know it." Sergeant Dalen added, his tone cold.
        The man, Brigadier General Archer, holding me, shoved me back, making me stumble. "You want to get yourself killed? Go ahead, but don’t drag the rest of us down with you. I know you're the "Healing Alchemist," but you're supposed to be a soldier, not a bleeding-heart liability."
        A murmur of agreement rippled through the group; not a single one turned against him. All their stares closed in on me, hard and unforgiving. In that moment, I understood: I wasn’t standing among comrades anymore. I was standing in the middle of a pack, and I was the one being sized up as the weak link.
        My stomach twisted. The boy’s body lay between us, blood pooling beneath him, and I realized I was the only one who still saw him as human. To them, he was just another obstacle cleared, another threat neutralized.
        I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice, but the words came out broken. "He was surrendering…"
        "Surrendering? Or buying time? Doesn’t matter now. What matters is he’s dead and you’re still breathing. That’s the only thing worth being grateful for." Reyes laughed while coming up and gripping my arm. We all made our way back to base; Brig. Gen. Archer rounded up as many soldiers as he could, while Reyes threw me right up front and made sure their full attention was on me.
        "Listen up!" His voice cut through the air like a blade. "We don’t have room for insubordination in this unit. Out here, hesitation gets people killed. And whining about the enemy’s brats getting put down? That’s not just weakness; that’s betrayal."
        I felt his hot breath hit my face as he yelled; that vein in his neck was throbbing as he continued.
        "You want to act like a child in front of your comrades? Then you’ll be treated like one. From now on, you’re retrieving every crate, every ration, and every bullet that gets shipped in, on top of your duties as our healer. You don’t get to rest until the rest of us do."
        A few of the soldiers snickered. Reyes smirked openly, leaning on his rifle like this was the entertainment of the day. Dalen just stared coldly, giving nothing away.
        "And hear me well," Archer growled, placing a tight grip on my shoulder, "if I hear another outburst like the one you gave me today, you won’t just lose privileges; you’ll lose your place in this squad. Permanently."
        He shoved me back, and I stumbled but managed to catch myself. My throat tightened, but I swallowed the words I wanted to say. The squad was watching, waiting for me to crack, but I refused to let myself be humiliated anymore.

~~~***~~~***~~~

        The coming days were absolute hell. By day, I hauled crates until my shoulders screamed, and by night, I drained myself healing the soldiers and religious fanatics who despised me. I felt like I was just a pair of hands meant to mend their wounds. Nothing more.
        But it was during one of those endless supply runs that I spotted it: an abandoned building just on the edge of camp. Secluded. Forgotten. I knew immediately what it could be. Not shelter. Not safety. A hiding place.
        Each supply run, I would slip what I could from the crates, hoping I'd have the correct amounts by the end of it. Small thefts, easy to overlook. But every time I snuck away to stash them away, I felt my chest tighten. I was constructing something beyond their comprehension.
        Because I had nothing left.
        They had stripped me of my dignity; I felt like I had lost myself and my sense of purpose. And if I wasn’t allowed to fight for the living… then I’d fight for the dead.
        Then the safety of night came, and I slipped away to the ruin, my heart pounding in my chest. With trembling hands I lit candles and scrawled on the cracked stone floor, smearing blood into the lines when chalk wasn’t enough. My breath came in ragged gasps, my body quaking from exhaustion, but I wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t afford to.
        "I can’t keep living like this," I whispered into the dark, placing the container of ingredients in the center of the room. I pulled out my pocket watch and flipped it open.
        "Nina..." A wave of pain washed over me as I stared at the picture of us, tears welling in my eyes. I traced her face with my fingertips, then let the lock of her hair that I had hidden fall into the mixture.
        "I should have been there to protect you. I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve-" My voice cracked, splintering under the weight of my despair. My hands curled into fists, fingernails digging so deeply into my palms that blood welled up in half-moon shapes.
        I held my hands and let the blood drip over her hair and other offerings in the bowl. Once I was satisfied, I dragged my feet out to the edge of the circle. Kneeling, I pressed my bloodied palms to the chalk lines.
        "Please. Just let me see you again... Just once. I don’t care what it takes."
        The image of my sister’s smile seared itself behind my eyelids. The sound of her laughter echoed in my mind as I watched the circle begin to pulse with a blue light.
        "You can take the rest of me. All of me. Just give her back."
        Alone in that ruin, surrounded by a sin I could never undo, I wasn’t afraid anymore.

I was already damned.