You Call That A Kiss?

If It's True, Why Do They Leave Us To Live Like This? With The Hunger And The Killings And The Games?" And Suddenly I Hate This Imaginary Underground City Of District 13 And Those Who Sit By, Watching Us Die. They're No Better Than The Capitol.

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 Away! There's Nothing Left For You Here!" I Start To Shake, Furious With Him. "she's Not Coming Back! She's Never Ever Coming Back Here Again!" I Grab Another Pillow And Get To My Feet To Improve My Aim. Out Of Nowhere, The Tears Begin To Pour Down My Cheeks. "she's Dead, You Stupid Cat. She's Dead.

The Idea Of Being Strong For Someone Else Having Never Entered Their Heads, I Find Myself In The Position Of Having To Console Them. Since I'm The Person Going In To Be Slaughtered, This Is Somewhat Annoying.

I Drag Myself Out Of Nightmares Each Morning And Find There's No Relief In Waking.

Really, The Combination Of The Scabs And The Ointment Looks Hideous. I Can't Help Enjoying His Distress. "poor Finnick. Is This The First Time In Your Life You Haven't Looked Pretty?" I Say. "it Must Be. The Sensation's Completely New. How Have You Managed It All These Years?" He Asks. "just Avoid Mirrors. You'll Forget About It," I Say. "not If I Keep Looking At You," He Says.