All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parent's can't give. More food.
He never lets go of Annie's hand. Not when they walk, not when they eat. I doubt he ever plans to.
They can't hurt me. I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left I love.
The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.
What is to prevent, say, an uprising?
But I feel as if I did know Rue, and she'll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the Mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister, Prim.