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.

So Haymitch, what do you think of the games have one hundred percent more competitors than usual?” asks Caesar. Haymitch shrugs. “I don’t see that it makes that much difference. They’ll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same.

The more you can distract yourself, the better.

A need for revenge can burn long and hot. Especially if every glance in a mirror reinforces it.

Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp. “I can’t,” he says.

Look, if you wanted to be babied you should have asked Peeta.

They can pump whatever they want into my arm but it takes more than that to keep a person going once she's lost the will to live.