After completing the treatment if the young boy, she asked with genuine warmth, "What's your name?"
"Moon," the boy replied quietly, his voice still weak from the pain he had endured.
"Moon… that's a nice name," Lisa said with a soft smile .
"Thanks," the boy said, his small face brightening slightly at her kindness.
She patted him gently on the head, her touch carrying the maternal instinct that had made her choose nursing as her life's work. For a moment, she remembered who she had been before trauma had forced her to become someone harder, more pragmatic about survival.
Then her gaze drifted toward her tormentor's still body across the room, and the complex emotions returned. Relief mixed with guilt, satisfaction shadowed by grief for the person she used to be. She had saved a child's leg with the same hands that had just taken a life.
