Are you fighting Katniss? Are you here to fight with us?
I hope not. Or we wasted our lives.
I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be in the games. I just wanted to save my sister and keep Peeta alive.
My nose twitches. It’s the smell. Cloying and artificial. A dab of white peeks out of a vase of dried flowers on my dresser. I approach it with cautious steps. There, all but obscured by its preserved cousins, is a fresh white rose. Perfect. Down to the last thorn and silken petal.
And I know immediately who’s sent it to me.