They'll Either Want To Kill You, Kiss

My Death Could, In Fact, Save Him. If It Can't, No Matter. It's Enough To Die Of Spite. To Punish Haymitch, Who, Of All The People In This Rotting World, Has Turned Peeta And Me Into Pieces In His Games. I Trusted Him. I Put What Was Precious In Haymitch's Hands. And He Has Betrayed Me.

An Ability To Look Into The Confusing Mess Of Life And See Things For What They Are.

"katniss?" He Drops My Hand And I Take A Step, As If To Catch My Balance. "it Was All For The Games," Peeta Says. "how You Acted." "not All Of It," I Say, Tightly Holding Onto My Flowers. "then How Much? No, Forget That. I Guess The Real Question Is What's Going To Be Left When We Get Home?" He Says. "i Don't Know. The Closer We Get To District Twelve, The More Confused I Get," I Say. He Waits, For Further Explanation, But None's Forthcoming. "well, Let Me Know When You Work It Out," He Says, And The Pain In His Voice Is Palpable.

It'd Be Better If He Were Easier To Hate.

Time And Tragedy Have Forced Her To Grow Too Quickly, At Least For My Taste, Into A Young Woman Who Stitches Bleeding Wounds And Knows Our Mother Can Hear Only So Much.