I'm Going To Be The

I Know. I Was Hoping," I Say. "exactly. Because You're Desperate," Says Haymitch. I Don't Argue Because, Of Course, He's Right.

Swathed In Silk, I Feel Like A Caterpillar In A Cocoon Awaiting Metamorphosis. I Always Supposed That To Be A Peaceful Condition. At First It Is. But As I Journey Into The Night, I Feel More And More Trapped, Suffocated By The Slippery Bindings, Unable To Emerge Until I Have Transformed Into Something Of Beauty. I Squirm, Trying To Shed My Ruined Body And Unlock The Secret To Growing Flawless Wings. Despite Enormous Effort, I Remain A Hideous Creature, Fired Into My Current Form By The Blast From The Bombs.

People Don't Need Wings To Survive" "mockingjays Do.

Peeta Looks Me Right In The Eye And Gives My Hand What I Think Is Meant To Be A Reassuring Squeeze. Maybe It's Just A Nervous Spasm.

I Knew You'd Kiss Me." "how?" I Say. Because I Didn't Know Myself. "because I Am In Pain," He Say's. "that's The Only Way I Get Your Attention.