Why him? I think. Then I try to convince myself it doesn’t matter. Peeta Mellark and I are not friends. Not even neighbors. We don’t speak. Our only real interaction happened years ago. He’s probably forgotten it. But I haven’t and I know I never will.
Five days after black and red collide. The motion sickness past, I’ll be the first to stand. Behind that weathered door, I thought it would be safest. My head is dizzy now, I thought we’d overcome. We might not make it home tonight.
It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.
Ally. Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I’ll add it to the list of words I use to try to figure you out. The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.