I stand there, feeling broken and small, thousands of eyes trained on me.
I’ve stopped talking because there’s really nothing left to say and there’s this piercing sort of pain where my heart is. Maybe I’m even having a heart attack, but it doesn’t seem worth mentioning.
They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.
I just...I just miss him. And I hate being so alone.
The air's warm with hopeful hints of spring in it. Spring would be a good time for an uprising, I think. Everyone feels less vulnerable once winter passes.
All those months of taking it for granted that Peeta thought I was wonderful are over. Finally, he can see me for who I really am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And I hate him for it.
One more time? For the audience?" he says. His voice isn't angry. It's hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me. I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.
Sometimes things happen to people and they're not equipped to deal with them.
Well, I knew that goat would be a little gold mine," I say. Yes, of course I was referring to that, not the lasting joy you gave your sister you love so much you took her place in the reaping," says Peeta drily.
He became my confidante, someone with whom I could share thoughts I could never voice...In exchange, he trusted me with his.
Stupid people are dangerous.
You’re not leaving me here alone,” I say. Because if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really. I’ll spend the rest of my life in this arena, trying to think my way out.
Aim higher in case you fall short.
Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?” I say. “I don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror,” he says. “You should wake me,” I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down. “It's not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you,” he says. “I'm okay once I realize you're here.
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.
what is the worst pain? To me, it's always the pain that is present.
I always channel my emotions into my work. That way, I don't hurt anyone but myself.
We have to joke about it because the alternative is to be scared
We had to save you because you're the mockingjay, Katniss," says Plutarch. "While you live, the revolution lives.
Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.
Fine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up.
The raw hunk of meat that used to be my enemy makes a sound, and I know where the mouth is. And I think the word he's trying to say is 'please'. Pity, not vengeance sends my arrow flying into his skull.
Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children's lives to settle its differences. You can spin it any way you like... But in the end, who does it benefit? No one. The truth is, it benefits no one to live in a world where these things happen
I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane's name on it.
Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.
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