So That's Who Finnick Loves, I Think.

My Little Sister, Prim, Curled Up On Her Side, Cocooned In My Mother’s Body, Their Cheeks Pressed Together. In Sleep, My Mother Looks Younger, Still Worn But Not So Beaten-down. Prim’s Face Is As Fresh As A Raindrop, As Lovely As The Primrose For Which She Was Named. My Mother Was Very Beautiful Once, Too. Or So They Tell Me.

I Begin To Fully Understand The Lengths To Which People Have Gone To Protect Me. What I Mean To The Rebels. My On Going Struggle Against The Capitol, Which Has So Often Felt Like A Solitary Journey, Has Not Been Undertaken Alone. I Have Had Thousands Upon Thousands Of People From The Districts At My Side. I Was Their Mockingjay Long Before I Accepted The Role.

Fine. I'll Train. But I'm Going To The Stinking Capitol If I Have To Kill A Crew And Fly There Myself." Says Johanna. "probably Best Not To Bring That Up In Training," I Say. "but It's Nice To Know I'll Have A Ride.

I'm Going To Be The Mockingjay.

What Is The Worst Pain? To Me, It's Always The Pain That Is Present.