I'm So Tired, Katniss.

Cleaning Me Up Is Just A Preliminary Step To Determining My New Look. With My Acid-damaged Hair, Sunburned Skin, And Ugly Scars, The Prep Team Has To Make Me Pretty And Then Damage, Burn, And Scare Me In A More Attractive Way.

The Numbness Of His Loss Had Passed, And The Pain Would Hit Me Out Of Nowhere, Doubling Me Over, Racking My Body With Sobs. Where Are You? I Would Cry Out In My Mind. Where Have You Gone? Of Course, There Was Never Any Answer.

The Glue Of Mutual Need That Bonded Us So Tightly Together For All Those Years Is Melting Away. Dark Patches, Not Light, Show In The Spaces Between Us.

The Rules Of The Hunger Games Are Simple. In Punishment For The Uprising, Each Of The Twelve Districts Must Provide One Girl And One Boy, Called Tributes, To Participate. The Twenty-four Tributes Will Be Imprisoned In A Vast Outdoor Arena That Could Hold Anything From A Burning Desert To A Frozen Wasteland. Over A Period Of Several Weeks, The Competitors Must Fight To The Death. The Last Tribute Standing Wins.

I Walk Around The Room Eating Goose Liver And Puffy Bread Until There's A Knock On The Door. Effie's Calling Me To Dinner. Good. I'm Starving.