My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realize you're here.
My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realize you're here.
The main thing I feel is a sense of relief. That I can give up this game. That the question of whether I can succeed in this venture has been answered, even if that answer is a resounding no. That if desperate times call for desperate measures, I am free to act as desperately as I want.
You've got to go through it to get to the end of it.
As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.
I do think you're mad and I'll still go with you.
I'm filled with awe, as I always am, as I watch her transform from a woman who calls me to kill a spider to a woman immune to fear.
No wonder I won the Games. NO decent person ever does.
The morphlings from District 6 are in the camouflage station, painting each other's faces with bright pink swirls.
Because I'm selfish. I'm a coward. I'm the kind of girl who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn't follow to suffer and die.
I don't care if you got knocked up. I can still rip your throat out
I'm not prepared for Rue's family. Her parents, whose faces are still fresh with sorrow. Her fiver younger siblings, who resemble her so closely. The slight builds, the luminous brown eyes. They form a flock of small dark birds.
Not like this. He wanted it to be real.
The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest down through my body out along my arms and legs to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me the kisses have the opposite effect of making my need greater.
But I feel as if I did know Rue, and she'll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the Mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister, Prim.
I don't know what it is with Finnick and bread, but he seems obsessed with handling it.
Im still betting on you. - Cinna.
Oh, the fun we two have together.
Then he talks about his recent success creating a musical chip that's tiny enough to be concealed in a flake of glitter but can hold hours of songs.
But the only thing that distracts me from my current situation is fantasizing about killing President Snow.
I flee what I can't fight. What can only do me harm.
In my mind, President Snow should be viewed in front of marble pillars hung with oversized flags. It's jarring to see him surrounded by the ordinary objects in the room. Like taking the lid off a pot and finding a fanged viper instead of stew.
Our romance became a key strategy for our survival in the arena. Only it wasn't just a strategy for Peeta.
They can pump whatever they want into my arm but it takes more than that to keep a person going once she's lost the will to live.
But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down.
I go back to my room and lie under the covers, trying not to think of Gale and thinking of nothing else.
In really bad times, the hungriest would gather at his door at nightfall, vying for the chance to earn a few coins to feed their families by selling their bodies. Had I been older when my father died, I might have been among them. Instead I learned to hunt.
Peeta smiles and douses Haymitch's knife in white liquor from a bottle on the floor. He wipes the blade clean on his shirt tail and slices the bread. Peeta keeps all of us in fresh baked goods. I hunt. He bakes. Haymitch drinks. We have our own ways to stay busy, to keep thought of our time as contestants in the Hunger Games at bay.
They can't hurt me. I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left I love.
Charred bits of black silk swirl into the air, and pearls clatter to the stage… I'm in a dress of the exact design of my wedding dress, only it's the color of coal and made of tiny feathers. Wonderingly, I lift my long, flowing sleeves into the air, and that's when I see myself on the television screen. Clothed in black except for the white patches on my sleeves. Or should I say my wings. Because Cinna had turned me into a mockingjay.
I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane's name on it...
In that one slight motion, I see the end of hope, beginning of destruction of everything I hold dear in the world. I cant guess what form my punishment will take, how wide the net will be cast, but when it is finished there most likely be nothing left.So you would think that at this moment, I would be in utter despair.
Remembering from last year how Haymitch's gifts are often timed to send a message, I make a note to myself. Be friends with Finnick. You'll get food.
They erase my face with a layer of pale makeup and draw my features back out.
Come on and eat with him. I promise, I won't let him kiss you again.
I had to do that. At least once.
Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine... but I don't know what your favorite color is?
Right before the explosions begin, I find a star.
They're a little strange, but I'm pretty sure neither of them is going to try to make me uncomfortable by stripping naked.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories