Just the perfect touch of rebellion," says Haymitch "Very nice." Rebellion?
When I break into the clearing, she's on the ground, hopelessly entangled in a net. She just has the time to reach her hand through the mesh and say my name before the spear enters her body.
Katniss: I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off. Peeta: Yes, frosting. The final defence of the dying. (252)
There are much worse games to play.
All around the dining hall, you can feel the rejuvenating effect that a good meal can bring on. The way it can make people kinder, funnier, more optimistic, and remind them it's not a mistake to go on living. It's better than any medicine.
Trapped for days, years, centuries maybe. Dead, but not allowed to die. Alive, but as good as dead. So alone that anyone, anything no matter how loathsome would be welcome.
Then I know Prim is right, that Snow cannot afford to waste Peeta's life, especially now, while the Mockingjay causes so much havoc. He's killed Cinna already. Destroyed my home. My family, Gale, and even Haymitch are out of his reach. Peeta's all he has left. "So, what do you think they'll do to him?" I ask. Prim sound about a thousand years old when she speaks."Whatever it takes to break you.
While I was waiting...I ate your lunch.
Whatever it takes to break you.
I mourn my old life here. We barely scraped by, but I knew where I fit in, I knew what my place was in the tightly interwoven fabric that was our life. I wish I could go back to it because, in retrospect, it seems so secure compared to now, when I am so rich and famous and so hated by the authorities in the capitol.
All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parent's can't give. More food.
Four people wheel out a huge wedding cake from a side room. Most of the guests back up, making way for this rarity, this dazzling creation with blue-green, white-tipped icing waves swimming with fish and sailboats, seals and sea flowers. But I push my way through the crowd to confirm what I knew at first sight. As surely as the embroidery stitches in Annie's gown were done by Cinna's hand, the frosted flowers on the cake were done by Peeta's.
I will never give up if you never give in.
Sorry excuses for hunters and friends. Both of us.
Thinking like your prey. . . that's where you find their vulnerabilities.
Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out.
And we must fight back! President Snow says he's sending us a message? Well, I have one for him. You can torture us and bomb us and burn our districts to the ground, but do you see that? Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!
I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.
Eyes on the forest, not on the trees.
I miss home badly sometimes. But then I remember there's nothing left to miss anymore. I feel safer here.
At the moment, the choice would be simple. I can survive just fine without either of them.
Yes. I killed him. And buried her in flowers," I say. "And I sang her to sleep.
So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck," says Peeta.
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.
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.
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