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“I’m sure he wasn’t gunning for your sister, but these things happen.”
The first bomb killed the victims. The second, the rescuers. Remembering Gale’s words.
“Beetee and I have been following the same rule book President Snow used when he hijacked Peeta.”
And you were watching me. I’m afraid we have both been played for fools.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Oh, my dear Miss Everdeen. I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other.”
What’s irrefutable is that she’s done exactly what he said. Let the Capitol and the districts run one another into the ground and then sauntered in to take power.
“If your immediate answer isn’t Coin, then you’re a threat. You’re the face of the rebellion. You may have more influence than any other single person. Outwardly, the most you’ve ever done is tolerated her.”
“Does it matter? You’ll always be thinking about it.”
Even now I can see the flash that ignites her, feel the heat of the flames.
My silence is my...
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The Capitol killed the victors they suspected of being rebels. The rebels killed those thought to be allied with the Capitol.”
“It seemed to balance the need for vengeance with the least loss of
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.
My name is Katniss Everdeen. Why am I not dead? I should be dead. It would be best for everyone if I were dead. . .
myself. I think that Peeta was onto something about us destroying one another and letting some decent species take over.
But in the end, who does it benefit? No one. The truth is, it benefits no one to live in a world where these things happen.
“But collective thinking is usually short-lived. We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.
Maybe we are witnessing the evolution of the human race.
dig around inside myself, trying to register anger, hatred, longing. I find only relief.
Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out, and then raises geese until the next train arrives.
There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over.
What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.
“You love me. Real or not real?” I tell him, “Real.”
Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver. But one day I’ll have to explain about my nightmares. Why they came. Why they won’t ever really go away.
