I Look At Peeta And He Gives

Since My Father Died And I Stopped Trusting My Mother, No One Else's Arms Have Made Me Feel This Safe.

Girl Talk. That Thing I've Always Been So Bad At.

It's Meant To Be Pretty," Whispers Octavia, And I Can See The Tears Threatening To Spill Over Her Lashes. Posy Considers This And Says Matter-of-factly, "i Think You'd Be Pretty In Any Color." The Tiniest Of Smiles Forms On Octavia's Lips. "thank You.

My Little Sister, Prim, Curled Up On Her Side, Cocooned In My Mother’s Body, Their Cheeks Pressed Together. In Sleep, My Mother Looks Younger, Still Worn But Not So Beaten-down. Prim’s Face Is As Fresh As A Raindrop, As Lovely As The Primrose For Which She Was Named. My Mother Was Very Beautiful Once, Too. Or So They Tell Me.

But There Was Only One Kiss That Made Me Feel Something Stir Deep Inside. Only One That Made Me Want More. But My Head Wound Started Bleeding And He Made Me Lie Down.