Haymitch Said You'd Take A Lot Of

Your Favorite Colour . . . It's Green?" "that's Right." Then I Think Of Something To Add. "and Yours Is Orange." "orange?" He Seems Unconvinced. "not Bright Orange. But Soft. Like The Sunset," I Say. "at Least, That's What You Told Me Once." "oh." He Closes His Eyes Briefly, Maybe Trying To Conjure Up That Sunset, Then Nods His Head. "thank You." But More Words Tumble Out. "you're A Painter. You're A Baker. You Like To Sleep With The Windows Open. You Never Take Sugar In Your Tea. And You Always Double-knot Your Shoelaces.

Peeta Looks Me Right In The Eye And Gives My Hand What I Think Is Meant To Be A Reassuring Squeeze. Maybe It's Just A Nervous Spasm.

He Became My Confidante, Someone With Whom I Could Share Thoughts I Could Never Voice...in Exchange, He Trusted Me With His.

There Were Two Avoxes With Me In Prison. Darius And Lavinia, But The Guards Mostly Called Them The Redheads. They'd Been Our Servants In The Training Center, So They Arrested Them, Too. I Watched Them Being Tortured To Death. She Was Lucky. They Used Too Much Voltage And Her Heart Stopped Right Off. It Took Days To Finish Him Off. Beating, Cutting Off Parts. They Kept Asking Him Questions, But He Couldn't Speak, He Just Made These Horrible Animals Sounds. They Didn't Want Information, You Know? They Wanted Me To See It.

It's Impossible To Be The Mockingjay. Impossible To Complete Even This One Sentence. Because Now I Know That Everything I Say Will Be Directly Taken Out On Peeta. Result In His Torture. But Not His Death, No Nothing So Merciful As That. Snow Will Ensure That His Life Is Much Worse Than Death.