They Don't Own Me. If

I Can Hear President Snow's Voice In My Head. 'on The Seventy-fifth Anniversary, As A Reminder To The Rebels That Even The Strongest Among Them Cannot Overcome The Power Of The Capital, The Male And Female Tributes Will Be Reaped From Their Existing Pool Of Victors.

They'll Be Granted Immunity!" I Feel Myself Rising From My Chair, My Voice Full Of Resonant. "you Will Personally Pledge This In Front Of The Entire Population Of District Thirteen And The Remainder Of Twelve. Soon. Today. It Will Be Recorded For Future Generations. You Will Hold Yourself And Your Government Responsible For Their Safety, Or You'll Find Yourself Another Mockingjay!

Because It Doesn't Matter Anymore, And Because I'm So Desperately Lonely I Can't Stand It.

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 Search His Eyes For The Slightest Sign Of Anything, Fear, Remorse, Anger. But There's Only The Same Look Of Amusement That Ended Our Last Conversation. It's As If He's Speaking The Words Again. "oh, My Dear Miss Everdeen. I Thought We Had Agreed Not To Lie To Each Other." He's Right. We Did. The Point Of My Arrow Shifts Upward. I Release The String. And President Coin Collapses Over The Side Of The Balcony And Plunges To The Ground. Dead.