But after several hours, I go anyway, walking in silent sock feet, so as not to awaken the ghosts.
But after several hours, I go anyway, walking in silent sock feet, so as not to awaken the ghosts.
Haymitch in my head full-time. Horrifying
If there's a more helpless feeling than trying to reach someone you love who's trapped underground, I don't know it.
Katniss....he's still trying to keep you alive.
Please feel free to take this personally.
There are much worse games to play.
What will break me into a million pieces so that I am beyond repair, beyond usefulness?
Because when he sings...even the birds stop to listen.
Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.
I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I'm so grateful that he's here, not dead by the stream as I'd thought. So glad I don't have to face Cato alone.
I'm not good at talking about myself.
Let them go, I tell myself. Say good-bye and forget them. I do my best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside me, locking the doors against their return.
Peeta looks me right in the eye and gives my hand what I think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze. Maybe it's just a nervous spasm.
Thank you for you consideration
We follow instructions to my destination, a chamber for my preparation.
Your only defense can be you were so madly in love you weren't responsible for your actions.
Aim higher in case you fall short.
Great. Now I have to go back and tell Haymitch I want an eighty-year-old and Nuts and Volts for my allies. He'll love that.
I never see these things coming. They happen too fast. One second you're proposing an escape plan and the next...
Katniss, there is no District Twelve...
Something flickers across his bloodshot eyes. Pain.
You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know
But I don't know what to him about the aftermath of killing a person. About how they never leave you.
He never lets go of Annie's hand. Not when they walk, not when they eat. I doubt he ever plans to.
I'll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I'm afraid it could be taken away.
Knowing it and seeing it are two different things.
Poison. The perfect weapon for a snake.
There's a chance that the old Peeta, the one who loves you, is still inside. Trying to get back to you. Don't give up on him.
What? My head doctor says I'm not supposed to censor my thoughts. It's part of my therapy.
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.
All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parent's can't give. More food.
Having an eye for beauty isn't the same thing as a weakness.
I pull an arrow, whip the notch into place, and am about to let it fly when I'm stopped by the sight of Finnick kissing Peeta. And it's so bizarre, even for Finnick.
Katniss, when you are in the arena,you just remember who the true enemy is
The air's warm with hopeful hints of spring in it. Spring would be a good time for an uprising, I think. Everyone feels less vulnerable once winter passes.
You know, I think this is the first time we've ever done anything normal together.
But once I saw Fulvia Cardew crumple up a sheet of paper with just a couple of words written on it and you would've thought she'd murdered someone from the looks she got.
I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking.
I'm banged up and bloody and someone seems to be hammering on my left temple from inside my skull.
Lady licking Prim's cheek.My father's laugh.Peeta's father with the cookies.The color of Finnick's eyes.What Cinna could do with a length of silk.Boggs reprogramming the Holo.Rue poised on her toes,arms slightly extended,like a bird about to take flight.
Positioned on my dresser, that white-as-snow rose is a personal message to me. It speaks of unfinished business. It whispers, I can find you. I can reach you. Perhaps I am watching you now.
There's no district 12 to escape from now, no Peacekeepers to trick, no hungry mouths to feed. The Capitol took away all of that, and I'm on the verge of losing Gale as well. The glue of mutual needs that bonded us so tightly together for all those years is melting away.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories