Here, Cover Yourself With This And I'll

Yes, Victors Are Our Strongest. They're The Ones Who Survived The Arena And Slipped The Noose Of Poverty That Strangles The Rest Of Us. They, Or Should I Say We, Are The Very Embodiment Of Hope Where There Is No Hope. And Now Twenty-three Of Us Will Be Killed To Show How Even That Hope Was An Illusion.

Something Inside Me Shuts Down And I'm Too Numb To Feel Anything. It's Like Watching Complete Strangers In Another Hunger Games. But I Do Notice They Omit The Part Where I Covered Her In Flowers. Right. Because Even That Smacks Of Rebellion.

I Want To Do Something, Right Here, Right Now, To Shame Them, To Make Them Accountable, To Show The Capitol That Whatever They Do Or Force Us To Do There Is A Part Of Every Tribute They Can't Own. That Rue Was More Than A Piece In Their Games. And So Am I.

He Never Lets Go Of Annie's Hand. Not When They Walk, Not When They Eat. I Doubt He Ever Plans To.

That's When I Hear The Scream. So Full Of Fear And Pain It Ices My Blood. And So Familiar. I Drop The Spile, Forget Where I Am Or What Lies Ahead, Only Know I Must Reach Her, Protect Her. I Run Wildly In The Direction Of The Voice, Heedless Of Danger, Ripping Through Vines And Branches, Through Anything That Keeps Me From Reaching Her. From Reaching My Little Sister.