I'm not Suzzane Collins!
Katniss walked into the room to see her Fiance cuddling with a book on their new couch her mother had sent them from District 4. "What you reading?" I asked piering over his shoulder.
"It's called the hunger games, written by someone named Suzzane Collins. You'll never guess what... or who I guess... its about!" He replied with a look of horror and wonder in his face.
"Who is it about?" I asked. Then it hit me. Us. The books about us. A normal person should be thrilled if their life became a book. On different days i would be bouncing around the room. But by the look on Peeta's face, the horror, the sorrow, I new it wasn't saying what I hoped it would. "Wha- What does it say?" I managed to utter.
"She knows everything. Everything." he handed me the book and flipped to the first page. I read:
When i wake up, the other side of my bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim's warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping.
"How do they know that!" I screamed.