They Hadn’t Counted On The Highly Controlled

It's Impossible To Be The Mockingjay. Impossible To Complete Even This One Sentence. Because Now I Know That Everything I Say Will Be Directly Taken Out On Peeta. Result In His Torture. But Not His Death, No Nothing So Merciful As That. Snow Will Ensure That His Life Is Much Worse Than Death.

The Only Indication Of The Passage Of Time Lies In The Heavens, The Subtle Shift Of The Moon. So Peeta Begins Pointing It Out To Me, Insisting I Acknowledge Its Progress And Sometimes, For Just A Moment I Feel A Flicker Of Hope Before The Agony Of The Night Engulfs Me Again.

So It's You And A Syringe Against The Capitol? See, This Is Why No One Lets You Make The Plans.

It's There. The White Rose Among The Dried Flowers In The Vase. Shriveled And Fragile, But Holding On To That Unnatural Perfection Cultivated In Snows Greenhouse. I Grab The Vase, Stumble Down To The Kitchen, And Throw Its Contents Into The Embers. As The Flowers Flare Up, A Burst Of Blue Flame Envelops The Rose And Devours It. Fire Beats Roses Again.

It Means We're On Your Side." That's What Bonnie Said. I Have People On My Side? What Side? Am I Unwittingly The Face Of The Hoped-for Rebellion? Has The Mockingjay On My Pin Become A Symbol Of Resistance? If So, My Side's Not Doing Too Well.