You’ve got to go through it to get to the end of it.
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.
I do think you’re mad and I’ll still go with you.
If I get home, I’ll be so stinking rich, I’ll be able to pay someone to do my hearing.
I’m almost there, almost to the barricade, when I thinks she hears me. Because for just a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name. And that’s when the rest of the parachutes go off.
I don’t want to cry. Everyone will make note of my tears and I’ll be marked as an easy target. A weakling. I will give no one that satisfaction.
Yes, it’s your fault I’m alive.
Let the Hunger Games Begin!
She’s Prim’s size in diameter.
Pity does not get you aid. Admiration at your refusal to give in does.
While you live, the revolution lives.
Despite serious reservations, I had to forgive Finnick for his role in the conspiracy that landed me here. He, at least has some idea of what I’m going through. And it takes too much energy to stay angry with someone who cries so much.
At the moment, the choice would be simple. I can survive just fine without either of them.
Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to reach for him across the hundreds and hundreds of miles, to send my thoughts into his mind, to let him know he is not alone. But he is. And I can’t help him.
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.
I miss home badly sometimes. But then I remember there’s nothing left to miss anymore. I feel safer here.
Sometimes when things are particularly bad, my brain will give me a happy dream.
I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you.
I flee what I can’t fight. What can only do me harm.