𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱

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❝it was war, it wasn't fair

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it was war, it wasn't fair.

ISLA IMMEDIATELY JUMPED INTO PANIC MODE

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ISLA IMMEDIATELY JUMPED INTO PANIC MODE. She grabbed Lexa's arms and dragged her over to a mat in the corner, and Finnick rushed over to help. Both pairs of eyes scanned the woman's unconscious form for what could be happening. Finnick questioned, "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know. She just collapsed," the Angler woman answered. He was there, so she knew as much as he did. She began unstrapping Lexa's armor, praying that she just could not breathe because it was tight or something. However, Isla's heart dropped when she saw the bloodstain on the white tank top under all the armor. She slowly lifted the fabric to see a huge infected wound where the Armada woman had been shot about a week ago. Isla turned to Finnick, whose eyes were wide and concerned. "Um, I need a needle and some thread and bandages and cloths and a whole lot of alcohol or anything I can use to sanitize this."

"On it," he replied with a nod, and he immediately shot up to look for supplies. Everyone else helped him since they had just been standing there the entire time, watching as he and Isla panicked. The least they could do was help find anything they could use as medical supplies.

Isla used her hands to apply pressure to the wound, trying not to let tears fall as she stared down at the woman she loved and the sick expression on her face. She muttered, "Lexa, what did you do?"

They must have not sanitized the equipment enough during her surgery or something. How else could the wound have gotten so infected? Isla wasn't sure what to do. Her brother used to be a doctor back in District 4, but she learned almost nothing from him before he died.

"This was all I could find," Finnick informed her, dumping an armful of stuff next to her. She scanned over it. Along with a sewing kit, there were some cloths, a dress that could be torn to make bandages, and a bottle of some weird Capitol drink. One sniff told Isla that it had plenty of alcohol in it.

"It'll have to do," she sighed. They were in a bunker after all. She lifted her hands from the wound and began preparing everything that she would need in order to stitch Lexa up. She gestured over to the space by the unconscious woman's head. "Go kneel over her head and put your hands on her shoulders."

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