The worse death:
The way Cato died.
The death of Boggs.
The way Finnick died.
The death of Prim.
(Source: escapetothemoon)
Wanna see what I got for you today? It’s a mockingjay pin. As long as you have it, nothing bad will happen to you… I promise.
(Source: ohdearalice)
(Source: acciothehungergames)
“It was the waste of a trip. She’s not here,” I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. “She’s not here. You can hiss all you like. You won’t find Prim.” At her name, he perks up. Raises his flattened ears. Begins to meow hopefully. “Get out!” He dodges the pillow I throw at him. “Go away! There’s nothing left for you here!” I start to shake, furious with whim. “She’s not coming back! She’s never ever coming back here again!” I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. “She’s dead.” I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. “She’s dead, you stupid cat. She’s dead.” A new sound, part crying, part singing, comes out of my body, giving voice to my despair.
