Closing My Eyes Doesn't Help. Fire Burns

There's No Point In Comforting Words, In Telling Her She'll Be All Right. She's No Fool. Her Hand Reaches Out And I Clutch It Like A Lifeline. As If It's Me Who's Dying Instead Of Rue.

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.

You're Punishing Him Over And Over For Things That Are Out Of His Control. Now, I'm Not Saying You Shouldn't Have A Fully Loaded Weapon Next To You Round The Clock. But I Think It's Time You Flipped This Little Scenario In Your Head. If You'd Been Taken By The Capitol, And Hijacked, And Then Tried To Kill Peeta, Is This The Way He Would Be Treating You?" Demands Haymitch. I Fall Silent. It Isn't. It Isn't How He Would Be Treating Me At All. He Would Be Trying To Get Me Back At Any Cost. Not Shutting Me Out, Abandoning Me, Greeting Me With Hostility At Every Turn.

I'm Not Good At Talking About Myself.

It's Not Easy To Find A Topic. Talking Of Home Is Painful. Talking Of The Present Unbearable.