It starts at midnight.
But if you want to find peace, you must first be able to hope it is possible.
They're already taking my future! They can't have the things that mattered to me in the past!
I want to do something, right here, right now, to shame them, to make them accountable, to show the Capitol that whatever they do or force us to do there is a part of every tribute they can't own. That Rue was more than a piece in their Games. And so am I.
I stare at the mirror as I try to remember who I am and who I am not.
Barbarism? That's ironic coming from a woman helping to prepare us for slaughter. And what's she basing our success on? Our table manners?
For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.
Poison. The perfect weapon for a snake.
When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim`s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the Reaping.
Mostly we just add to the piles of rainbow glass that's been blown off the exteriors of the cany-colored buildings.
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.
So it's you and a syringe against the Capitol? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans.
Even if times got bad, he would never again deny himself the possibility that the future might be happy even if the present was painful. He would allow himself dreams.
And there I am, blushing and confused, made beautiful by Cinna’s hands, desirable by Peeta’s confession, tragic by circumstance, and by all accounts, unforgettable.
Cato kneels beside Clove, spear in hand, begging her to stay with him. In a moment, he will realize it's futile, she can't be saved.
A need for revenge can burn long and hot. Especially if every glance in a mirror reinforces it.
I will never have a life with Gale even if I want to.
Do i really want him dead? What i want... what i want is to have him back.
On and on we seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their deaths count.
I mean I know it's cold out here and not everybody has a sleeping bag. But when you grit your teeth and stick it out until dawn!
The way she kissed you in the Quarter Quell…well she never kissed me like that…I should have volunteered to take your place in the first Games. Protected her then…I guess it’s Katniss’ problem. Who to choose…Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can’t survive without.
The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful of poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the capitol, I am someone of worth. The trouble is, I don't know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment.
Crying is not an option.
Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything.
In District 12, looking old is something of an achievement since so many people die early. You see an elderly person, you want to congratulate them on their longevity, ask the secret of survival. A plump person is envied because they aren't scraping by like the majority of us. But here is different. Wrinkles aren't desirable. A round belly isn't a sign of success.
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