That's what the other boy said. The boy that had reminded her a little of Peeta, who claimed that where there was life, there was hope. He'll be alive. He'll live. There's hope.
She almost wants to laugh at the thought. Hope. They don't know what's yet to come for Peeta. They don't know how many people will sacrifice themselves to keep him alive in the Quarter Quell, how in the end, it doesn't matter. Because they'll leave him behind for Snow. And he'll be tortured, because of her. Because it's the one leverage he had over the Mockingjay. The one thing that could break her.
He succeeds, too. Or nearly does. The hijacking changes Peeta, the effects permanent. It's not like the hijackings the Malnosso do, where the memories may linger but little else changes. Snow's hijacking is much worse. That good Peeta, that boy with the bread, is gone, replaced instead by a Peeta who can't stand the sight of her. Who tries to kill her when they're finally reunited.
They don't know that. They don't know the horrors that come.
They don't know how confused he becomes, that a game is invented to help preserve his sanity. Real or not real. They don't know how he'd rather die than harm anyone else, than become the monster Snow made him into. The monster that only has one goal: kill Katniss Everdeen.
And despite everything, he and Gale discuss who she loves more. He still agrees to help her with her assassination of Snow. And he saves her life, stops her from biting down on the nightlock tablet and dying.
Hope. Maybe there's hope. He'll be alive. He had just returned to District Twelve when she had wound up here. Planted the primrose bushes around her house in honor of Prim. Had been deemed mentally stable by Dr. Aurelius.
Maybe there's hope that Peeta will once again be okay. But she's not naive. He will never, ever love her like he did here. The girl who was on fire, the Mockingjay -- she doesn't deserve that kind of love anyway.
Why couldn't he have just let her die that day? Why wasn't she dead? She should be dead. She shouldn't have anything to return to, nothing at all. She should be dead, her usefulness used up. She should have died in the clock arena, left behind in place of Peeta. Driven mad by Snow's torturers, an unfortunate end to an unfortunate life. And Prim, dear Prim, should be alive.
Tears sting her eyes. Her voice is hoarse. More and more rain drops start to fall, a light sprinkle now as opposed to the scatter from minutes earlier. Somehow, she chokes out the words:]
He'll live. But he'll never love me like that again.
action;
That's what the other boy said. The boy that had reminded her a little of Peeta, who claimed that where there was life, there was hope. He'll be alive. He'll live. There's hope.
She almost wants to laugh at the thought. Hope. They don't know what's yet to come for Peeta. They don't know how many people will sacrifice themselves to keep him alive in the Quarter Quell, how in the end, it doesn't matter. Because they'll leave him behind for Snow. And he'll be tortured, because of her. Because it's the one leverage he had over the Mockingjay. The one thing that could break her.
He succeeds, too. Or nearly does. The hijacking changes Peeta, the effects permanent. It's not like the hijackings the Malnosso do, where the memories may linger but little else changes. Snow's hijacking is much worse. That good Peeta, that boy with the bread, is gone, replaced instead by a Peeta who can't stand the sight of her. Who tries to kill her when they're finally reunited.
They don't know that. They don't know the horrors that come.
They don't know how confused he becomes, that a game is invented to help preserve his sanity. Real or not real. They don't know how he'd rather die than harm anyone else, than become the monster Snow made him into. The monster that only has one goal: kill Katniss Everdeen.
And despite everything, he and Gale discuss who she loves more. He still agrees to help her with her assassination of Snow. And he saves her life, stops her from biting down on the nightlock tablet and dying.
Hope. Maybe there's hope. He'll be alive. He had just returned to District Twelve when she had wound up here. Planted the primrose bushes around her house in honor of Prim. Had been deemed mentally stable by Dr. Aurelius.
Maybe there's hope that Peeta will once again be okay. But she's not naive. He will never, ever love her like he did here. The girl who was on fire, the Mockingjay -- she doesn't deserve that kind of love anyway.
Why couldn't he have just let her die that day? Why wasn't she dead? She should be dead. She shouldn't have anything to return to, nothing at all. She should be dead, her usefulness used up. She should have died in the clock arena, left behind in place of Peeta. Driven mad by Snow's torturers, an unfortunate end to an unfortunate life. And Prim, dear Prim, should be alive.
Tears sting her eyes. Her voice is hoarse. More and more rain drops start to fall, a light sprinkle now as opposed to the scatter from minutes earlier. Somehow, she chokes out the words:]
He'll live. But he'll never love me like that again.