I don’t want anyone with me today. Not even him. Some walks you have to take alone.
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.
You don’t destroy what you want to acquire in the future.
But some secrets are too delicious not to share.
A need for revenge can burn long and hot. Especially if every glance in a mirror reinforces it.
At once, it’s clear I cannot gush. We try me playing cocky, but I just don’t have the arrogance. Apparently, I’m too “vulnerable” for ferocity. I’m not witty. Funny. Sexy. Or mysterious By the end of the session, I am no one at all.
Peeta: You be nice to her, Finnick. Or I might try and take her away from you. Finnick: Oh, Peeta. Don’t make me sorry I restarted your heart.
Time and tragedy have forced her to grow too quickly, at least for my taste, into a young woman who stitches bleeding wounds and knows our mother can hear only so much.
In the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too.
Making knots. Making knots. No word. Making knots. Tick-tock. This is a clock. Do not think of Gale. Do not think of Peeta. Making knots.
Why am I hopping around like some trained dog trying to please people I hate?
I guess there isn’t a rule book for what might be unacceptable to do to another human being.
It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.
I killed you. And you. And you.
Because it doesn’t matter anymore, and because I’m so desperately lonely I can’t stand it.
As coal pressured into pearls by our weighty existence. Beauty that arose out of pain.
You’ll never be able to let him go. You’ll always feel wrong about being with me.
Something inside me shuts down and I’m too numb to feel anything. It’s like watching complete strangers in another Hunger Games. But I do notice they omit the part where I covered her in flowers. Right. Because even that smacks of rebellion.
What will break me into a million pieces so that I am beyond repair, beyond usefulness?
Behind a rack of framed photos of Snow, we encounter a wounded Peacekeeper propped up against a strip of brick wall. He asks us for help. Gale knees him in the side of the head and takes his gun.