“Hey, Rosemary! I fell into poison ivy again, can you heal me up?”

“Rosemary! My child scratched her knee on the playground and now because she’s injured, I can’t go on the expedition. Can you please heal her so I can go? I could get so much XP from that.”

“Yo, Rosie! I’m freezing and I might lose some health. Make the healing quick, okay?”

I sighed. I was on the verge of shutting my clinic down early, but there were so many people relying on me as the sole healer of Little Quelet that I had to continue my work.

Even though they needed a healer to prevent the population from dying out, they never truly acknowledged me as anything other than one. They didn’t even call me by my title, just “Rosemary”. Work was never done, even when I wanted to return to the only ones I truly cared about; my family. I lost my love for others long ago.

Two days later, the government put me on an expedition to Northern Iodine. Bandits were outside the city walls and they were threatening to break them down to take whatever they could. As an ally to their city, of course they had to help.

We reached Northern Iodine on horseback, carrying our bows, swords, shields, potions and guns. Seeing the bandits, we did a five-way ambush. Alex would use his jetpack to launch him into the sky and slam onto the bandits with his mighty Shadow Shield, Lydia would strike from below with her shovel then spray the bandits with her blinding and vulnerability potions, which allowed Joey to fill the bandits full of arrows from the left and Terry to stab and slice out a gory scene from the right, leaving me at the back occasionally healing someone, boosting their damage, and resurrecting someone if things got ugly, which was basically my daily life. I had to stay on the sidelines not being noticed or respected, only taken for granted. The arrogant “heroes” who fought “beside” me thought their sudden strength came from them alone.

The bandits quickly outnumbered and outfought my party, and all that was left was the mousy, unassuming healer with a useless shotgun. I felt like all that disrespect was right. I couldn’t even keep my team alive in a dangerous situation. I was only treating little scrapes, how could I have the right to say I was a victim here? “Who’ll res you after you die?” mocked the leader of the bandits. No. I couldn’t die here. I had to stand strong, for my family. I drilled holes into the leader’s eyes. Literally. Her skull turned to paste after I shot her in the face, point blank.

“It’s not me who will die.” I quickly turned my attention to the rest of the bandits. I pistol whipped several bandits in an artery, in the solar plexus, any pressure point or vulnerable point I knew could kill someone, I hit with a fist or my gun. Today, I was the sword.

Once the area was clear, I resurrected my teammates. “Rosemary, did you really do all that?” asked Trey, surveying the bloody bandits. “Yeah. Tell your friends, family all about this. Remember, I am not just your healer.”