Katniss, the girl who was on fire!
There are much worse games to play.
You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real," he whispers. "Real," I answer. "Because that's what you and I do, protect each other.
Because that's what you and I do, protect each other.
I’m in pain. That’s the only way I get your attention
The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.
Closing my eyes doesn't help. Fire burns brighter in the darkness.
I clench his hands to the point of pain. "Stay with me." His pupils contract to pinpoints, dialate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs.
I knew you'd kiss me." "How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself. "Because I am in pain," He say's. "That's the only way I get your attention.
Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children’s lives to settle its differences.
You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.
Are you, are you coming to the tree? Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me. Strange things did happen here. No stranger would let it be if we met up At midnight in the hanging tree.
But collective thinking is usually short-lived. We're fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.
Still, I hate them. But, of course, I hate almost everybody now. Myself more than anyone.
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.
I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking.
Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!
Sometimes when I'm alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena.
It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.
Some walks you have to take alone.
What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.
They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.
Well, don't expect us to be too impressed. We just saw Finnick Odair in his underwear.
I think....you still have no idea. The effect you can have.
Ally." Peeta says the words slowly, tasting it. "Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I'll add it to the list of words I use to try to figure you out. The problem is, I can't tell what's real anymore, and what's made up.
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