I don't know what the explosion did, but it damaged something deep and irreparable. Never mind. If I get home, I'll be so stinking rich, I'll be able to pay someone to do my hearing.
Just because people starve in a book, doesn't mean that we will starve in the future....
So what I'd really like is to try and conceal him somewhere safe, then go hunt, and come back and collect him. But I have a feeling his ego isn't going to go for that suggestion.
You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.
I can't fight the sun. I can only watch helplessly as it drags me into a day that I've been dreading for months. Katniss Everdeen
My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realize you're here.
You've got to go through it to get to the end of it.
I merely feel emptyness. A hollow of dead brush where flowers use to bloom.
Maybe everyone is just trying to protect me by lying to me. I don't care. I'm sick of people lying to me for my own good.
They more than do their work, they take pride in it. Like Cinna.
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!
I take his hand, holding it tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment I will finally have to let go.
My nightmares are usually about losing you.
The most exciting thing either of us does is nap.
A spark could be enough to set them ablaze.
I mourn my old life here. We barely scraped by, but I knew where I fit in, I knew what my place was in the tightly interwoven fabric that was our life. I wish I could go back to it because, in retrospect, it seems so secure compared to now, when I am so rich and famous and so hated by the authorities in the capitol.
So that's who Finnick loves, I think. Not his string of fancy lovers in the Capitol. But a poor, mad girl back home.
But after several hours, I go anyway, walking in silent sock feet, so as not to awaken the ghosts.
If there's a more helpless feeling than trying to reach someone you love who's trapped underground, I don't know it.
Please feel free to take this personally.
What will break me into a million pieces so that I am beyond repair, beyond usefulness?
Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.
I'm not good at talking about myself.
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.
We follow instructions to my destination, a chamber for my preparation.
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.
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.
They erase my face with a layer of pale makeup and draw my features back out.
Eyes on the forest, not on the trees.
It's like a game. Repetitive. but there are much worse games to play.
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