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I'm not flailing now, as my muscles are rigid with the tension of holding myself together.

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
Flailing
Rigid
Muscles
Tension
Holding
Together

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I will never have a life with Gale even if I want to.
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I wish she was dead,' he says. 'I wish they were all dead and we were, too. It would be best.
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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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Despite serious reservations, I had to forgive Finnick for his role in the conspiracy that landed me here. He, at least has some idea of what I'm going through. And it takes too much energy to stay angry with someone who cries so much.
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The pain over my heart returns, and from it I imagine tiny fissures spreading out into my body. Through my torso, down my arms and legs, over my face, leaving it crisscrossed with cracks. One good jolt...and I could shatter into strange razor-sharp shards.
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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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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.
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Frankly, our ancestors don't seem much to brag about. I mean, look at the state they left us in, with the wars, the broken planet. Clearly, they didn't care about what would happen to the people who came after them.
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There's always hand-to-hand combat. All you need is to come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead! I can hear my voice rising in anger. But you won't! You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows.
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He wants as many victors as possible for the cameras to follow in the Capitol. Thinks it makes for better television. Are you and Beetee going? I ask. As many young and attractive victors as possible, Haymitch corrects himself. So, no. We'll be here.
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I'm going to be the Mockingjay.
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He’s dozed off again, but I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he’d be happy to lie there gazing at me forever.
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It's as if I'm Finnick, watching images of my life flash by. The mast of a boat, a silver parachute, Mags laughing, a pink sky, Beetee's trident, Annie in her wedding dress, waves breaking over rocks. Then its over.
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I go back to my room and lie under the covers, trying not to think of Gale and thinking of nothing else.
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When you're in the arena...you just remember who the enemy is - Haymitch
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There's a chance that the old Peeta, the one who loves you, is still inside. Trying to get back to you. Don't give up on him.
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So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent...and right when your song ended, I knew - just like your mother - I was a goner.
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How much better my life has been for knowing him. For loving him, even if it's only in the limited way that I can manage. But I never get the chance.
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Doors are for those who lack enemies.
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