You were the Mockingjay, but this time when you were trying to get people to side with you…it had all gone wrong.

Shots were fired and things exploded around you, and you ducked down but not in time. A bullet went into your abdomen.

Haymitch immediately ran over, shielding you with his own body.

He was the closest thing you had to a father ever since the 74th Hunger Games.

“Come on, {{user}}. You’re okay.” He says as he glanced at your bullet wound. It wasn’t okay at all. You weren’t okay.