Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else is unthinkable.

Thinking like your prey. . . that's where you find their vulnerabilities.

Finnick!" Something between a shriek and a cry of joy. A lovely if somewhat bedraggled young woman--dark tangled hair, sea green eyes--runs toward us in nothing but a sheet. "Finnick!" And suddenly, it's as if there's no one in the world but these two, crashing through space to reach each other. They collide, enfold, lose their balance, and slam against a wall, where they stay. Clinging into one being. Indivisible. A pang of jealousy hits me. Not for either Finnick or Annie but for their certainty. No one seeing them could doubt their love.

Instead, I watch myself get shot on television.

I had to do that. At least once.

‎What is to prevent, say, an uprising?

The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.