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He frosted under heavy guard.

Suzanne Collins

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Suzanne Collins
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: August 10
Executive Producer
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Hartford
Connecticut
Suzanne Marie Collins
Suzanne Collins
Frosted
Guard
Heavy

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That it's no good loving me because I'm never going to get married anyway and he'd just end up hating me later instead of sooner.
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What? My head doctor says I'm not supposed to censor my thoughts. It's part of my therapy.
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Tick tock, this is a clock.
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You can swim, too. he says. Where did you learn that in District Twelve? We have a very big bathtub.
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If he wants me broken, then I will have to be whole.
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This is the first kiss that we're both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another.
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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.
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But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down.
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Great. Now I have to go back and tell Haymitch I want an eighty-year-old and Nuts and Volts for my allies. He'll love that.
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Peeta looks at the glass again and puts it together. You mean this will make me puke? My prep team laughs hysterically. Of course, so you can keep eating, says Octavia. I've been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?
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Winning means fame and fortune. Losing means certain death. The Hunger Games have begun.
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I drink in his wholeness, the soudness of his body and mind. It runs through me like the morphling they give me in the hospital, dulling the pain of the last weeks.
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Let them go, I tell myself. Say good-bye and forget them. I do my best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside me, locking the doors against their return.
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I'm not a very fancy person. I've been a writer a long time, and right now 'The Hunger Games' is getting a lot of focus. It'll pass. The focus will be on something else. It'll shift. It always does. And that seems just fine.
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I see now that the circumstances of ones birth are irrelevent. it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are
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I curl up, make myself smaller, try to disappear entirely. Wrapped in silence, I slide my bracelet that reads 'mentally disoriented' around and around my wrist.
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There's a meeting in Command. Disregard your current schedule,' he says. 'Done,' I say. 'Did you follow it at all today?' he asks in exasperation. 'Who knows? I'm mentally disoriented.' I hold up my wrist to show my medical bracelet and realize it's gone. 'See? I can't even remember they took my bracelet.' (Katniss and Boggs)
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Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at.
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Not like this. He wanted it to be real.
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