I just keep wishing I could think of a way to show them that they don’t own me. If I’m gonna die, I wanna still be me.
I search his eyes for any sign of hurt, any reflection of the agony of torture.
There is nothing.
I take Peeta’s face in my hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you at midnight.” I give him a kiss and, before he can object any further, I let go and turn to Johanna.
They don’t own me. I’m more than just a piece in their Games
With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby’s skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water. One time, I spent three days mixing paint until I found the right shade for sunlight on white fur. You see, I kept thinking it was yellow, but it was much more than that. Layers of all sorts of color. One by one.
"Hey do you wanna see something? Look up. Look. Look at that...It's incredible, isn't it? All those colors. Don't worry about anything else. I'll be right here with you. It's okay. It's okay...
She sacrificed herself for me and I don't even know her name."
anonymous asked: peeta mellark or
"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."