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Just one more thing. I kill Snow.

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
Snow
Kill
Thing

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So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends. - Peeta Mellark
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Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar, says Petta bitterly, if it weren't for the baby. There. He's done it again.
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No more fear of hunger. A new kind of freedom. But what then ... what? What would my life be like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I'm not really sure who I am, what my identity is. The idea scares me some.
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I must have loved you a lot.
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I don’t know what the explosion did, but it damaged something deep and irreparable. Never mind. If I get home, I’ll be so stinking rich, I’ll be able to pay someone to do my hearing.
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The only thing worse than fighting a giant scorpion was fighting a giant scorpion who was trying to protect her young.
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And some small gnarled place inside me hated her for her weakness, for her neglect, for the months she had put us through. I had taken a step back from my mother, put up a wall to protect myself from needing her, and nothing was ever the same between us again.
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Yes, frosting. The final defense of the dying.
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I thought he wanted it, anyway, I say. Not like this, Haymitch says. He wanted it to be real.
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Peeta smiles at me, sad and mocking. Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart.
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Thinking like your prey. . . that's where you find their vulnerabilities.
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Whenever I write a story, I hope it appeals to both boys and girls.
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My mouth has gone dry as sawdust. I desperately find Cinna in the crowd and lock eyes with him. I imagine the words coming from his lips. 'What's impressed you most since you arrived here?' I rack my brain for something that made me happy here. Be honest, I think. Be honest.
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I pull an arrow, whip the notch into place, and am about to let it fly when I'm stopped by the sight of Finnick kissing Peeta. And it's so bizarre, even for Finnick.
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I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking.
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Then I get it, what it means. At least, for me. District 12 only has three existing victors to choose from. Two male. One female... I am going back into the arena.
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I walk around the room eating goose liver and puffy bread until there's a knock on the door. Effie's calling me to dinner. Good. I'm starving.
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Whose is it, do you think? I say finally. No telling, says Finnick. Why don't we let Peeta claim it, since he died today?
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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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Katniss? Peeta says. I meet his eyes, knowing my face must be some shade of green. He mouths the words. How about that kiss?
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