From now on, your job is to be a distraction so people forget what the real problems are.
She has become a beacon of hope for them, so she has to be eliminated.
You have provided a spark, that left unattended, may grow into an inferno that destroys Panem.
“…I dare to raise my eyebrows. They ask what lips can’t. Did I do it? Was it enough? Was giving everything over to you keeping up the game, promising to marry Peeta enough? In answer, he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head.”
We star-crossed lovers from District 12, who suffered so much and enjoyed so little the rewards of our victory, do not seek the fans’ favor, grace them with our smiles, or catch their kisses. We are unforgiving.
All I can think about, every day every waking minute since they drew Prim’s name at the reaping, is how afraid I am.
I want to see if she’s going to figure out that booby trap.
I give up. Stop speaking, responding, refuse food and water. They can pump whatever they want into my arm, but it takes more than that to keep a person going once she’s lost the will to live. I even have a funny notion that if I do die, maybe Peeta will be allowed to live.
Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it.