Destroying Things Is Much Easier Than Making

They More Than Do Their Work, They Take Pride In It. Like Cinna.

I Roll My Eyes. "so When Did I Become So Special? When They Carted Me Off To The Capitol?" "no, About Six Months Before That. Right After New Year's. We Were In The Hob, Eating Some Slop Of Greasy Sae's. And Darius Was Teasing You About Trading A Rabbit For One Of His Kisses. And I Realized...i Minded.

I'm Unaware That My Feet Are Moving To The Table Until I'm Inches From The Holograph. My Hand Reaches In And Cups A Rapidly Blinking Green Light. Someone Joins Me, His Body Tense. Finnick, Of Course. Because Only A Victor Would See What I See So Immediately. The Arena. Laced With Pods Controlled By Gamemakers. Finnick's Fingers Caress A Steady Red Glow Over A Doorway. "ladies And Gentlemen..." His Voice Is Quiet, But Mine Rings Through The Room. "let The Seventy-sixth Hunger Games Begin!

I Send A Silent Thank-you To Dalton For Suggesting I Wash Off The Makeup. How Ridiculous, How Perverse I Would Feel Presenting That Painted Capitol Mask To These People. The Damage, The Fatigue, The Imperfections. That's How They Recognize Me, Why I Belong To Them.

Whatever The Opposite Of Fine Is, That's What I Am.