Frankly, our ancestors don't seem much to brag about. I mean, look at the state they left us in, with the wars, the broken planet. Clearly, they didn't care about what would happen to the people who came after them.
The bird, the pin, the song, the berries, the watch, the cracker, the dress that burst into flames. I am the mockingjay. The one that survived despite the Capitol's plans. The symbol of the rebellion.
Because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it.
It's impossible to be the Mockingjay. Impossible to complete even this one sentence. Because now I know that everything I say will be directly taken out on Peeta. Result in his torture. But not his death, no nothing so merciful as that. Snow will ensure that his life is much worse than death.
I'm going to be the Mockingjay.
You're alive," I whisper, pressing my palms against my cheeks, feeling the smile that's so wide it must look like a grimace. Peeta's alive.
Yeah, we wouldn't want to lose our little Mockingjay when she's finally begun to sing.
Because that's what you and I do, protect each other.
Better not to give in to it.
Oh, Peeta, Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart.
I sit back on my bed cross-legged and find myself rubbing the smooth iridescent surface of the pearl back and forth against my lips. For some reason, it’s soothing. A cool kiss
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.
It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.
Well you are a piece of work aren't you?
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.
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.
Still, I hate them. But, of course, I hate almost everybody now. Myself more than anyone.
The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.
I’m in pain. That’s the only way I get your attention
Katniss. I remember about the bread.
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.
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.
Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!
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