Whenever I Write A Story, I Hope

Let The Hunger Games Begin!

Whose Is It, Do You Think?" I Say Finally. "no Telling," Says Finnick. "why Don't We Let Peeta Claim It, Since He Died Today?

Well, I Don't Have Much Competition Here." "you Don't Have Much Competition Anywhere.

Don't Let Him Take You From Me.

And When Again It's Morning, They'll Wash Away. Here It's Safe, Here It's Warm Here The Daisies Guard You From Every Harm.