I think I'm 13, but I can't remember, strangely. Maybe I'm still 12.

In District 13, you're supposed to have knowledge of all of your surroundings, including, of course, your age. I knew my age a few minutes ago.

Do I have amnesia? If I did, I wouldn't remember that my sister is a Mockingjay, a beautiful, beautiful Mockingjay…

The symbol of hope in the districts. One of which doesn't exist anymore.

That would be District 12. At least they let me take Buttercup with me.

He would be so lonely over there, just sitting in the ruins of his former territory…

Now, of course, he's lonelier still. Sitting in a room that is perfectly in one piece, but isn't his territory and never will be. District 13. I want to see my Buttercup.

I want to see my sister. My Katniss.

They lead us into this huge, cement brick of a building. It's somewhat cramped. By us, I mean the children; the small ones. The 12 and 13 and 14 and probably not 15 year olds.

I can't tell for sure.

I sit down on the cold cement floor. It chills me, but I'm used to the feeling. There's even more metal here in District 13 than in the Capitol, and it seems like all of the building materials are made to release the same temperature as metal.

Cold.

I don't like cold. I like warm.

Not hot, not cold. Just warm. Just perfect.

Why can't Panem be that way?

Parachutes fall from the sky. Silver ones. Shiny metallic silver ones like the whole of 13.

A lot of kids eagerly grab for them. I don't. I twirl a finger around a loose strand of hair and just sit there. I'm suspicious. But sooner or later, one will fall into my hands anyway.

I become a mixture of shock, panic, and déjà vu. Not just a feeling. I am the feeling.

One girl's parachute has exploded quite literally in her face. I can't bear to look at her.

I hear multiple explosions. They multiply like bacteria.

I feel something spray me. I think it's blood, but I hope it isn't.

I sense something that used to be alive on my shoulder. It's the hand of the boy who was standing next to me. I brush it off, scared.

A parachute descends on me. I try to run away from it, but it catches me. It detonates.

Boom! I see smoke and fire and pain and all sorts of things that I don't like. I see hot. I only like warm.

I also see cold.

Soon, I'll be out cold. Forever.

I feel searing, searing pain. I close my eyes, squeeze them closed. I try to forget this.

I soon won't have anything to remember.

I see Buttercup. I see Katniss, and Peeta. All of the people who deserve to live. They must live. They must live through the rebellion.

It is my wish.

Panem must be a happier place someday. One that isn't cold, and isn't hot.

I see a bright light in the back of my mind. To calm myself down, I pretend it's sunshine.

Goodbye, sun.