How do you bear it?" Finnick looks at me in disbelief. "I don't, Katniss! Obviously, I don't. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking up." Something in my expression stops him. "Better not give in to it. It t...
Anyone? On Snow's visit before the Victory Tour, he challenged me to erase any doubts of my love for Peeta. "Convince me," Snow said. It seems, under that hot pink sky with Peeta's life in limbo, I finally did. And In doing so, I gave him the weapon ...
there's plenty of blame to go around.
They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so ...
Fire burns brighter in the darkness.
Finnick and I sit for a long time in silence, watching the knots bloom and vanish, before I can ask, 'How do you bear it?' Finnick looks at me in disbelief. 'I don't, Katniss! Obviously, I don't. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find ...
She's not here," I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. "She's not here. You can hiss all you like. You won't find Prim." At her name, he perks up. Raises his flattened ears. Begins to meow hopefully. "Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go ...
People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!” There‘s dead silence on the set. It goes on. And on. Finally, the intercom crackles and Haymitch‘s acerbic laugh fills the studio. He contains himself just long enough to say, ...
I want to tell the rebels that I am alive. That I'm right here in District Eight, where the Capitol has just bombed a hospital full of unarmed men, women and children. There will be no survivors." The shock I've been feeling begins to give way to fur...
But I don't know what to him about the aftermath of killing a person. About how they never leave you.
Peeta. Blut wie Regentropfen am Fenster. Wie feuchte Erde an den Stiefeln.
But collective thinking is usually short-lived. We're fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.
Knowing it and seeing it are two different things.
Slowly, with many lost days, I come back to life.
They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.
If there's a more helpless feeling than trying to reach someone you love who's trapped underground, I don't know it.
I'll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I'm afraid it could be taken away.
How are you managing? And don't say you're fine." It's true. Whatever the opposite of fine is, that's what I am.
