No Wonder I Won The Games. No

The Pain Over My Heart Returns, And From It I Imagine Tiny Fissures Spreading Out Into My Body. Through My Torso, Down My Arms And Legs, Over My Face, Leaving It Crisscrossed With Cracks. One Good Jolt...and I Could Shatter Into Strange Razor-sharp Shards.

Exactly How Am I Supposed To Work In A Thank-you In There? Somehow It Just Won't Seem Sincere If I'm Trying To Slit His Throat.

That Was The One Thing I Had Going For Me. Taking Care Of Your Family.

Aim Higher In Case You Fall Short.

The Anguish I Always Feel When She's In Pain Wells Up In My Chest And Threatens To Register On My Face.