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I Go To The Saltwater And Wash Off The Blood, Trying To Decide Which I Hate More, Pain Or Itching. Fed Up, I Stomp Back Onto The Beach, Turn My Face Upward And Snap, "hey, Haymitch, If You're Not Too Drunk, We Could Use A Little Something For Our Skin." It's Almost Funny How Quickly The Parachute Appears Above Me. I Reach Up And The Tube Lands Squarely In My Open Hand. "about Time" I Say, But I Can't Keep The Scowl On My Face. Haymitch. What I Wouldn't Give For Five Minutes Of Conversation With Him.

Sometimes When Things Are Particularly Bad, My Brain Will Give Me A Happy Dream. [...] When I Fully Awaken, I'm Momentarily Comforted. I Try To Hold On To The Peaceful Feeling Of The Dream, But It Quickly Slips Away, Leaving Me Sadder Than Ever.

I Can't Argue That Finnick Isn't One Of The Most Stunning, Sensuous People On The Planet. But I Can Honestly Say He's Never Been Attractive To Me. Maybe He's Too Pretty, Or Maybe He's Too Easy To Get, Or Maybe It's Really That He'd Just Be Too Easy To Lose.

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.

I Press My Ear Against His Chest, To The Spot Where I Always Rest My Head, Where I Know I Will Hear The Strong And Steady Beat Of His Heart. Instead, I Find Silence.