Besides, it's the first gift that's always the hardest to pay back. I wouldn't even have been here to do it if you hadn't helped me then.
Besides, it's the first gift that's always the hardest to pay back. I wouldn't even have been here to do it if you hadn't helped me then.
Haymitch said you'd take a lot of convincing.
I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips.
I'm relieved Peeta's alive. I tell myself again that if I get killed, his winnings will benefit my mother and Prim the most. This is what I tell myself to explain the conflicting emotions that arise when I think of Peeta. The gratitude that he game an edge by professing his love for me in the interview. The anger at his superiority on the roof. The dread that we may come face-to-face at any moment in this arena.
May the odds be ever in your favor!
People deal with me, but they are genuinely fond of Prim. Maybe there will be enough fondness to keep her alive.
That should have been my strategy! By the time I've worked through the emotions of surprise, admiration, anger, jealousy, and frustration, I'm watching that reddish mane of hair disappear into the trees well out of shooting range.
We will not just be another piece in their games
You're not going to die. I forbid it.
Betrayal. That's the first thing I feel, which is ludicrous. For there to be betrayal, there would have had to been trust first.
He became my confidante, someone with whom I could share thoughts I could never voice...In exchange, he trusted me with his.
I realize, for the first time, how very lonely I've been in the arena. How comforting the presence of another human being can be.
Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his word. This is probably overdue anyway since he's right, we are supposed to be madly in love.
Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt because they're as hungry as we are for fresh meat as anyone. In fact, they're among our best customers.
Pity does not get you aid. Admiration at your refusal to give in does.
The anguish I always feel when she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.
We're supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love, not actually being in love.
You've got about as much charm as a dead slug.
Birds are settling down for the night, singing lullabies to their young.
Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything.
I remember everything about you...you were the one who wasn't paying attention
It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.
My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother's body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim's face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me.
Plants are tricky. Many are edible, but one false mouthful and your dead
The cat that Prim got hates me, I think partly because I tried to drown it.
What must it be like, I wonder, to live in a world where food appears at the press of a button? How would I spend the hours I now commit to combing the woods for sustenance if it were so easy to come by? What do they do all day, these people in the Capitol, besides decorating their bodies and waiting around for a new shipment of tributes to rill in and die for their entertainment?
But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.
Here's some advice. Stay alive.
I stand there unmoving while they take part in the boldest form of dissent they can manage. Silence.
It's my new best friend, Claudius Templesmith, and as I expected it, he's inviting us to a feast.
My mother says healers are born, not made.
Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.
The heat of the bread burned into my skin, but I clutched it tighter, clinging to life.
What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...
But don't worry; as I've been saying - and this has been very clever of me, I'm sure you'll agree - if you put enough pressure on coal, it'll turn to pearls!
He's dozed off again, but I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he's be happy to lie there gazing at me forever.
I take his hand, holding it tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment I will finally have to let go.
It's not easy to find a topic. Talking of home is painful. Talking of the present unbearable.
My nightmares are usually about losing you.
Scores only matter if they're very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones.
The most exciting thing either of us does is nap.
Whatever the truth is, I don't see how it will help me get food on the table.
But just the fact that he was sparkling leads me to doubt everything that happened.
Hope is the only thing stronger than fear.
I want to show them that they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games.
It's old, very old I think. Made up long ago in our hills. What my music teacher calls a mountain air. But the words are easy and soothing, promising tomorrow will be more hopeful than this awful piece of time we call today.
Myself? That's no good, either.
She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping.
The numbness of his loss had passed, and the pain would hit me out of nowhere, doubling me over, racking my body with sobs. Where are you? I would cry out in my mind. Where have you gone? Of course, there was never any answer.
When I break into the clearing, she's on the ground, hopelessly entangled in a net. She just has the time to reach her hand through the mesh and say my name before the spear enters her body.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories