Tonight. After the reaping, everyone is supposed to celebrate. And a a lot of people do, out of relief that their children have been spared for another year. But at least two families will pull their shutters, lock their doors, and try to figure out how they will survive the painful weeks to come.

They don't own me. If I'm gonna die, I wanna still be me.

Never having been in love, this is going to be a real trick. I think of my parents. The way my father never failed to bring her gifts from the woods. The way my mother's face would light up at the sound of his boots at the door. The way she almost stopped living when he died.

the evil thing is inside, not out.

Frankly, I could use a little sugarcoating.

I keep hoping that as time passes by, we’ll regain the ease between us, but part of me knows it’s futile. There’s no going back.

Make sure they remember you.