voice

[This woman isn't the first to ask this question of her this morning. And it'd be a stupid waste to wish she would, at least, be the last. But in the fear and grief spurred by nightmares, Katniss hadn't been thinking. Hadn't thought to refrain from asking these questions allowed, let alone put up any kind of filter. She had just talked instead, as if once again influenced by that chocolate from the spa.

She regrets that now. Partially. Because too many strangers have answered. Too many people unaware of a past she really doesn't want to explain again. Peeta and the Hunger Games and Gale and Prim and... and everything. They wouldn't get it. Why she always wakes up in the night screaming. Why she can't seem to let go.

Her voice is quiet, still weak, when she replies:] I want to.