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I keep hoping that as time passes by, we’ll regain the ease between us, but part of me knows it’s futile. There’s no going back.

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
Hoping
Passes
Ease
Keep
Part
Back
Going
Regain
Time
Futile

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What will break me into a million pieces so that I am beyond repair, beyond usefulness?
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I take a few breaths to calm myself, step back, and lift Buttercup by the scruff of the neck. I should've drowned you when I had the chance. His ears flatten and he raises a paw. I hiss before he gets a chance, which seems to annoy him a little, since he considers hissing his own personal sound of contempt.
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In that one slight motion, I see the end of hope, beginning of destruction of everything I hold dear in the world. I can't guess what form my punishment will take, how wide the net will be cast, but when it is finished there most likely be nothing left. So you would think that at this moment, I would be in utter despair.
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I wish they were all dead and we were, too. It would be best. Well, there's no good response to that. I can hardly dispute it since I was walking around with a syringe to kill Peeta when I found them. Do I really want him dead? What I want...what I want is to have him back.
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But some secrets are too delicious not to share.
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Do i really want him dead? What i want... what i want is to have him back.
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what is the worst pain? To me, it's always the pain that is present.
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Cleaning me up is just a preliminary step to determining my new look. With my acid-damaged hair, sunburned skin, and ugly scars, the prep team has to make me pretty and then damage, burn, and scare me in a more attractive way.
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I swing my arms to loosen myself up. Place my fists on my hips. then drop them to my sides. Saliva's filling my mouth at a ridiculous rate and i feel vomit at the back of my throat. I swallow hard and open my lips so I can get the stupid line out and go hide in the woods and-that's when i start crying.
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Anyone? On Snow's visit before the Victory Tour, he challenged me to erase any doubts of my love for Peeta. Convince me, Snow said. It seems, under that hot pink sky with Peeta's life in limbo, I finally did. And In doing so, I gave him the weapon he needed to break me.
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So what I'd really like is to try and conceal him somewhere safe, then go hunt, and come back and collect him. But I have a feeling his ego isn't going to go for that suggestion.
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I have been keeping track of the boy with the bread.
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Listen up. You're in trouble. Word is the Capitol's furious about you showing them up in the arena. The one thing they can't stand is being laughed at and they're the joke of Panem
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That what? That I knew i misjudged you. That you love him. I'm not saying In what way. Maybe you don't know yourself. But anyone paying attention could see how much you care about him, he says gently.
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Crying is not an option.
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Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he'll never come back to me. Or i'll never go back to him. I'll die for my trouble. And he'll die insane and hating me.
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I'm almost there, almost to the barricade, when I thinks she hears me. Because for just a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name. And that's when the rest of the parachutes go off.
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Something small and quiet, like a match being struck, lights up the gloom inside of me.
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We sit in silence awhile then I blurt out the thing that's on both our minds. How are we going to kill these people, Peeta?
Suzanne Collins
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So we both strip off our boots and socks and, while there’s some improvement, I could swear he’s making an effort to snap every branch we encounter
Suzanne Collins