Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.

It'd be better if he were easier to hate.

Then Octavia drops to her knees, rubs the hem of a skirt against her cheek, and burst into tears. "It's been so long," she gasps, "since I've seen anything pretty.

Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out.

Just the sound of his voice twists my stomach into a knot of unpleasant emotions like guilt, sadness and fear. And longing. I might as well admit there’s some of that too.

Maybe the other tributes are out there beating one another senseless. Which would be fine. - Katniss -

I’m in a shallow hole, not filled with the humming orange bubbles of my hallucination but with old, dead leaves.