You Here To Finish Me Off, Sweetheart?

Our Romance Became A Key Strategy For Our Survival In The Arena. Only It Wasn't Just A Strategy For Peeta.

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.

But Just Before They Cut Back To The Main Newscaster, I See The Unmistakable Flash Of That Same Mockingjay's Wing. The Reporter Has Simply Been Incorporated Into The Old Footage. She's Not In District 13 At All. Which Begs The Question, What Is?

Then, In My Most Careful Handwriting, Come All The Details It Would Be A Crime To Forget. Lady Licking Prim's Cheek. My Father's Laugh. Peeta's Father With The Cookies. The Colour Of Finnick's Eyes. What Cinna Could Do With A Length Of Silk. Boggs Reprogramming The Holo. Rue Poised On Her Toes, Arms Slightly Extended, Like A Bird About To Take Flight. On And On. We Seal The Pages With Salt Water And Promises To Live Well To Make Their Death Count.

Telling A Story In A Futuristic World Gives You This Freedom To Explore Things That Bother You In Contemporary Times.