Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance.

You don't destroy what you want to acquire in the future.

Maybe everyone is just trying to protect me by lying to me. I don't care. I'm sick of people lying to me for my own good.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to reach for him across the hundreds and hundreds of miles, to send my thoughts into his mind, to let him know he is not alone. But he is. And I can't help him.

I'm on a frosting sailboat, tossed around by blue-green waves, the deck shifting beneath my feet.

"If I could grow wings, I could fly. Only people can't grow wings," he say's. "Real or not real?" "Real," I say. "But people don't need wings to survive." "Mockingjays do."

All those months of taking it for granted that Peeta thought I was wonderful are over. Finally, he can see me for who I really am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And I hate him for it.