Whatever It Takes To Break You.

Thinking Like Your Prey. . . That's Where You Find Their Vulnerabilities.

To The Everlasting Credit Of The People Of District 12, Not One Person Claps. Not Even The Ones Holding Betting Slips, The Ones Who Are Usually Beyond Caring. Possibly Because They Know Me From The Hob, Or Knew My Father, Or Have Encountered Prim, Who No One Could Help Loving. So Instead Of Acknowledging Applause, I Stand There Unmoving While They Take Part In The Boldest Form Of Dissent They Can Manage. Silence. Which Says We Do Not Agree. We Do Not Condone. All Of This Is Wrong.

I Want To Do Something, Right Here, Right Now, To Shame Them, To Make Them Accountable, To Show The Capitol That Whatever They Do Or Force Us To Do There Is A Part Of Every Tribute They Can't Own. That Rue Was More Than A Piece In Their Games. And So Am I.

But The Only Thing That Distracts Me From My Current Situation Is Fantasizing About Killing President Snow.

I Feel Like I Owe Him Something, And I Hate Owing People. Maybe If I Had Thanked Him At Some Point, I'd Be Feeling Less Conflicted Now. I Thought About It A Couple Of Times, But The Opportunity Never Seemed To Present Itself. And Now It Never Will. Because We're Going To Be Thrown Into An Arena To Fight To The Death. Exactly How Am I Supposed To Work In A Thank-you In There? Somehow It Just Won't Seem Sincere If I'm Trying To Slit His Throat.