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.
Embrace the probability of your imminent death....and know there is nothing i can do to save you.
She's Prim's size in diameter.
Cleaning me up is just a preliminary step to determining my new look. With my acid-damaged hair, sunburned skin, and ugly scars, the prep team has to make me pretty and then damage, burn, and scare me in a more attractive way.
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.
I merely feel emptyness. A hollow of dead brush where flowers use to bloom.
Because...because...she came here with me.
Tick, tock,” whispers Wiress. I guide her in front of me and get her to lie down, stroking her arm to soothe her. She drifts off, stirring restlessly, occasionally sighing out her phrase. “Tick, tock.” “Tick, tock,” I agree softly. “It’s time for bed. Tick, tock. Go to sleep.
Let the Hunger Games Begin!
It's hard to hate my prep team. They're such total idiots." - Katniss.
My mother just wanted me to forget it. So, of course, every word was immediately, irrevocably branded into my brain.
My mockingjay pin now lives with Cinna's outfit, but there's the gold locket and the silver parachute with the spile and Peeta's pearl. I knot the pearl into the corner of the parachute, bury it deep in the recesses of the bag, as if it's Peeta's life and no one can take it away as long as I guard it.
For a second, I'm afraid he's dying. I have to remind myself that I don't care.
But between the images, we are privy to the real-life action being played out on the set. Peeta's attempt to continue speaking. The camera knocked down to record the white tiled floor. The scuffle of boots. The impact of the blow that's inseparable from Peeta's cry of pain. And his blood as it splatters the tiles.
Oh, no. It costs a lot more than your life. To murder innocent people?" says Peeta. "It costs everything you are.
You don't destroy what you want to acquire in the future.
So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends. - Peeta Mellark
Caesar Flickerman asks if the president has a date in mind. "Oh, before we set a date, we better clear it with Katniss's mother," says the president. The audience gives a big laugh and the president puts his arm around me. "Maybe if the whole country puts its mind to it, we can get you married before you're thirty." "You'll probably have to pass a new law," I say with a giggle. "If that's what it takes," says the president with conspiratorial good humor. Oh, the fun we two have together.
Right before the explosions begin, I find a star.
Why am I hopping around like some trained dog trying to please people I hate?
Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire, you have provided a spark that, left unattended, may grow to an inferno that destroys Panem," he says.
Glimmer, I hear someone call her - ugh, the names the people in District 1 give their children are so ridiculous.
A verbal promise behind closed doors, even a statement written on paper-these could easily evaporate . . . .
I feel like I owe him something, and I hate owing people. Maybe if I had thanked him at some point, I'd be feeling less conflicted now. I thought about it a couple of times, but the opportunity never seemed to present itself. And now it never will. Because we're going to be thrown into an arena to fight to the death. Exactly how am I supposed to work in a thank-you in there? Somehow it just won't seem sincere if I'm trying to slit his throat.
They can pump whatever they want into my arm but it takes more than that to keep a person going once she's lost the will to live.
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