No. Now, shut up and eat your pears. - Suzanne Collins

I had to do that. At least once.

She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping.

Sometimes when I'm alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena. To make myself put a name to the thing I've lost. But what's the use? It's gone. He's gone. Whatever existed between us is gone. All that's left is my promise to kill Snow. I tell myself this ten times a day.