Excuse me while I cry over the perfectness of Joshifer.
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 more worse than death. […]
Several sets of arms would embrace me. But in the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too. I reach out for him and say something like his name and he’s there, holding me and patting my back.
“It’s okay. It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”
There are things we can never be free of; scars that are burnt onto us too deeply to fade away with time. There’s those nights in the Games, the creeping approach of the unknown, and that terrible fear that the Capitol drugged me with. I can never really be fixed, or truly free, because a pawn taken off the chess board is still a pawn, and we’ll be their broken playthings forever. But our children are beautiful, so beautiful, like Katniss. And they bring a warm hope to my heart, like the smile she gives me in the mornings, and the last kiss before bedtime. It will be good again.