The nurses taught me that in times of war and conflict, everything is flipped inside out. Smiles turn into sadness and mourning. Happiness becomes pain and suffering. Love becomes anger, regret, and hatred. However, there is one exception that can revert everything back to normal. Something that can make everything seem okay and worth it.

I was taught that hope was the catalyst, the first drops of spring rain. But that in war, we cannot wait for rain, instead we must conjure it ourselves. For in war, there is only blood.

And so I would wear a bright smile. I would push back the torrent of emotions willing to break through the facade. And yet I held on, instilling hope into the our soldiers because no one else would.

It didn't take long for me to realize that despite the overwhelming collective power of the International Union of Powers, they only served to even the odds, clearly to prolong the war for greater gains.

And as such, all they did was lengthen our demise, our suffering, our false belief that we could win. They think we are barbarians and uncivilized nomads. In truth, we are a free people, civilization would always show us hostility and drive us away, so we left.

For millenia, we fled across land from nation to nation, running from our homes again and again until we forgot where we even came from. But never will we forget who we are.

In the camps, the women nutured the injured and sick. In a place filled with the stench of death and despair, we were the lanterns that would shine brightly within the haze of suffering.

I had to learn basic first aid, although our journey through the jungle already gave me plenty of experience. With so many wounded soldiers, I improved at a rapid pace. At some point, I was somewhat able to predict death just by looking at someone.

Their complexion, the severity of their injury, signs of infection, blood loss, their mentality, motor control, responsiveness, brain activity, consciousness, all of these things contributed to their chances of survival.

Using this, I tried my best to fight the spectre of death. The worse their injuries, the harder it became. Unknowingly, I began experimenting with medicine, surgery, and sterilization, among others.

By the time I turned 15, which was 7 years after we left mom, we had already maximized the efficiency of our camp, making the best use of resources supplied by the IUP, setting up organized living quarters with proper water and sewage systems in place, and developing a strong sense of community.

Yet, the war waged on with even greater vigor than before, showing no signs of coming to an end. It was simple, we wanted our freedom, they wanted us enslaved or dead, and neither side was willing to relent.

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Over the years, I saw my brothers less and less. Tahan and Sengcha went out on long missions, and rarely had time to rest. On the rare occasion that they came to camp, they didn't want to share their stories, for I know it is only of indiscriminate death.

Instead, I would often tell them about Monzu, what he's learning at the small 'school' north of the communal living area, if it could even be called that. I tell them about what he likes to eat, which games he's good at, and how good of a fisherman he is. I share stories that the women spread around about the state of the war. I try to say anything that would give our family something to hold onto.

But it is difficult for me to be cheerful, especially now. I can tell that each time I see them, their faces grow darker, they speak less, and only nod along.

I keep hoping that maybe they'll ask me how my day was, or maybe if I'm eating well, or just if I'm okay.

And I would reply, "Today was tiring, but I'm doing okay. I even gained some weight since the last time you came back." Even if it was a lie. I wanted to tell them that it was so hard for me, and that I hate it here.

So much that I'd rather be in that dammed jungle being chased by the LSP soldiers at every side. Atleast we would all be together. But when I open my mouth, the words don't come out, as if a demon had my throat in its grasp and any sound would trigger it to snap my neck.

On my 16th birthday, a representative from the IUP came to our camp and took interest in my work. They asked that I return with him to the Great States where I would enjoy luxuries I could never have imagined.

Of course, I refused. Not only could I not leave my family and my people, but the IUP never showed any care for us beyond plain formalities. As much as I hated being here, the IUP was worse.

My refusal was met with him explaining just how much I was missing out on. He went on about prestige and other nonsense.

Yet again, I refused him. This time, he demanded an explanation so I gave him one. He didn't accept it and stormed off to god knows where.

Not even a day later, he came back with a group of IUP agents, bringing enough resources to last us the next year. Everyone was overjoyed but I know this wasn't out of their good will.

With this "gift", the men asked the leaders of our small camp to let them take me away. They were blinded by the promise of immediate benefits and gave me up without a second thought.

I was in disbelief. Everything that I stood by, vanished in a second. My belief in the strength of community failed me. At that moment, I remember crying and begging for them to let me stay. I did everything I could but nothing could change their minds.

In the end, the IUP soldiers took me with them. I tried to take Monzu with me and explained that no one will care for him. He only just turned 10 and only had me. My other brothers were too busy fighting a pointless war.

They would not allow him to accompany me and claimed that the plane would not fit. Even at the time, I was certain this was also a lie, so I held onto Monzu with every ounce of my strength while he cried and cried.

I tried to reassure him as they separated me and my little brother. I told him I would come back soon and to make sure he kept eating. If he did I would come back sooner. It was a lie.

Finally, they pulled me into their plane and fastened me to a seat, taking off into a land of demons.

I remember them telling me, "Don't worry, dear. We're highly professional people. We saw your potential and wanted to give you the opportunity to reach greater heights. We won't do anything to you."

While on the plane, I could hear the man talking to someone over the phone, treating me like an object to be owned. It was disgusting but I could only await such a fate. I cried for mom, but she wasn't there. Then I cried for Tahan, who was supposed to protect me. I cried and cried the entire way. At some point, I succumbed to exhaustion.

When we arrived, I woke up and noticed that the plane had landed. But nobody seemed to be around. I looked out of the window and saw a scene that confused me.

The man and his agents were apprehended outside of the plane, being taken into a large truck. Then, a new face peeked into the plane and spoke to me.

"Hi, I'm Laurel with the HRA. Human Rights is our jurisdiction. We believe that you are a victim of human trafficking. Care to tell us how you got here?"

Not knowing how to respond I stayed quiet. Trying to determine if she was telling the truth.

"It's OK if you're not comfortable talking. But we will need to take you somewhere safe. The Bureau of Justice will take care of things here. Come on."

It was on this day that I swore to myself that instead of only using my skills to save others, I would become powerful enough to save myself.

This would be my new hope to strive for. I'm sorry, mom. I wasn't strong enough, but soon, everything is going to change.