My mother and younger brother. My girl. They were all dead two weeks after I was crowned victor. Because of that stunt I pulled with the force field,” he answers. “Snow had no one to use against me.” “I’m surprised he didn’t kill you,” I say. “Oh, no. I was the example.”
But in the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too.
There’s something like a collective sigh of regret from the semicircle of people spread out before me. Because I know this now. Because there will never be a way for me to not know this again. Because, beyond the military disadvantage losing a Mockingjay entails, I am broken.
PS: Don’t read if you are easily offended.
