Far below, I can just make out Finnick, struggling to hang on as three mutts tear at him. As one yanks back his head to take the death bite, something bizarre happens. It’s as if I’m Finnick, watching images of my life flash by.
The mast of a boat, a silver parachute, Mags laughing, a pink sky, Beetee’s trident, Annie in her wedding dress, waves breaking over rocks.
Then it’s over.
Not a huge fan of hg, but there are a few things about it that I appreciate. This sentence is one of them.
I’d love to see Garrett Hedlund play Finnick.