Come on and eat with him. I promise, I won't let him kiss you again.
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.
As I descend the stairs, I can't help brushing my fingers along the unblemished white marble walls. So cold and beautiful. Even in the Capitol, there's nothing to match the magnificence of this old building. But there is no give to the surface - only my flesh yields, my warmth taken. Stone conquers people every time.
Fire burns brighter in the darkness
I swing my arms to loosen myself up. Place my fists on my hips. then drop them to my sides. Saliva's filling my mouth at a ridiculous rate and i feel vomit at the back of my throat. I swallow hard and open my lips so I can get the stupid line out and go hide in the woods and-that's when i start crying.
It's more complicated than that. I know them. They're not evil or cruel. They're not even smart. Hurting them, it's like hurting children.
Never underestimate the power of a brillian stylist.
The glue of mutual need that bonded us so tightly together for all those years is melting away. Dark patches, not light, show in the spaces between us.
Underground. Which I hate. Like mines and tunnels and 13. Underground, where I dread dying, which is stupid because even if I die aboveground, the next thing they'll do is bury me underground anyway.
And she's very clever, Peeta. Well, she was. Until you outfoxed her
Each time I wake,I think, At last, this is over, but it isn't.
I just... I just miss him. And hate being so alone. Does he miss me? He must
I'm in a shallow hole, not filled with the humming orange bubbles of my hallucination but with old, dead leaves.
Katniss, the girl who was on fire!
Oh, and I suppose the apples ate the cheese.
Someone ought to get Haymitch a drink.
There's no point in comforting words, in telling her she'll be all right. She's no fool. Her hand reaches out and I clutch it like a lifeline. As if it's me who's dying instead of Rue.
You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope.
Either you came in here a swimmer or you'd better be a really fast learner
I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you.
It must be very fragile, if a handful of berries can bring it down.
Since Mags seems to have no ill effects from the nuts, Peeta collects bunches of them and fries them by bouncing them off the force field.
We each get fifteen minutes before the Gamemakers to amaze them with our skills, but I don't know what any of us might have to show them. There's a lot of kidding about it at lunch. What we might do. Sing, dance, strip, tell jokes. Mags, who i can understand a little better now, decides she's just going to take a nap.
At the moment, the choice would be simple. I can survive just fine without either of them
For a second, I'm afraid he's dying. I have to remind myself that I don't care.
I think you'd be pretty in any color."-Posy to Octavia
It's not wondering what I breathe in, but who, that threatens to choke me.
No one knows what to do with you, girlie.
The ones I loved fly as birds in the open sky above me. Soaring, weaving, calling to me to join them. I want so badly to follow them, but the seawater saturates my wings, making it impossible to lift them. The ones I hated have taken to the water, horrible scaled things that tear my salty flesh with needle teeth. Biting again and again. Dragging me beneath the surface.
Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly.
And some small gnarled place inside me hated her for her weakness, for her neglect, for the months she had put us through. I had taken a step back from my mother, put up a wall to protect myself from needing her, and nothing was ever the same between us again.
Embrace the probability of your imminent death....and know there is nothing i can do to save you.
I just...I just miss him. And I hate being so alone.
I'm more than just a piece in their Games.
Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.
Oh, well. At least my blood is flowing.
Something keeps me moving forward, though. A lifetime of watching the Hunger Games lets me know that certain areas of the arena are rigged for certain attacks. And that if I can just get away from this section, I might be able to move out of reach of the launchers. I might also then fall straight into a pit of vipers, but I can't worry about that now.
They're already taking my future! They can't have the things that mattered to me in the past!
You here to finish me off, Sweetheart?
A hysterical young woman with flowing brown hair is also called from 4, but she's quickly replaced by a volunteer, an eighty-year-old woman who needs a cane to walk to the stage
Everything is happening too fast for me to process it.
I knew it. In this way, Peeta's not hard to predict. While I was wallowing around on the floor of that cellar, thinking only of myself, he was here, thinking of me. Shame isn't a strong enough word for what I feel.
It'd be better if he were easier to hate.
So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends. - Peeta Mellark
What does this mean? It means I get to spend the morning having the hair ripped off my body while Peeta sleeps in.
Because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it.
Four people wheel out a huge wedding cake from a side room. Most of the guests back up, making way for this rarity, this dazzling creation with blue-green, white-tipped icing waves swimming with fish and sailboats, seals and sea flowers. But I push my way through the crowd to confirm what I knew at first sight. As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie's gown were done by Cinna's hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta's.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories