Never having been in love, this is going to be a real trick. I think of my parents. The way my father never failed to bring her gifts from the woods. The way my mother's face would light up at the sound of his boots at the door. The way she almost stopped living when he died.

Why am I hopping around like some trained dog trying to please people I hate?

What? My head doctor says I'm not supposed to censor my thoughts. It's part of my therapy.

What will break me into a million pieces so that I am beyond repair, beyond usefulness?

Johanna glances over at Finnick, to be sure, then turns to me. “How’d you lose Mags?” “In the fog. Finnick had Peeta. I had Mags for a while. Then I couldn’t lift her. Finnick said he couldn’t take them both. She kissed him and walked right into the poison,” I say. “She was Finnick’s mentor, you know,” Johanna says accusingly. “No, I didn’t,” I say. “She was half his family,” she says a few moments later, but there’s less venom behind it.

You love me. Real or not real?" I tell him, "Real.

They don't own me. If I'm gonna die, I wanna still be me.