My Sleep Wasn't Peaceful, Though. I Have

Go To Sleep," He Says Softly. His Hand Brushes The Lose Strands Of My Hair Off My Forehead. Unlike The Staged Kisses And Caresses So Far, This Gesture Seems Natural And Comforting. I Don't Want Him To Stop And He Doesn't. He's Still Stroking My Hair When I Fall Asleep.

In My Mind, President Snow Should Be Viewed In Front Of Marble Pillars Hung With Oversized Flags. It's Jarring To See Him Surrounded By The Ordinary Objects In The Room. Like Taking The Lid Off A Pot And Finding A Fanged Viper Instead Of Stew.

Yes, They Have To Have A Victor. Without A Victor, The Whole Thing Would Blow Up In The Gamemakers' Faces. They'd Have Failed The Capitol. Might Possibly Even Be Executed, Slowly And Painfully, While The Cameras Broadcast It To Every Screen In The Country.

I'm Relieved Peeta's Alive. I Tell Myself Again That If I Get Killed, His Winnings Will Benefit My Mother And Prim The Most. This Is What I Tell Myself To Explain The Conflicting Emotions That Arise When I Think Of Peeta. The Gratitude That He Game An Edge By Professing His Love For Me In The Interview. The Anger At His Superiority On The Roof. The Dread That We May Come Face-to-face At Any Moment In This Arena.

Peeta Rinses The Pearl Off In The Water And Hands It To Me. “for You.” I Hold It Out On My Palm And Examine Its Iridescent Surface In The Sunlight. Yes, I Will Keep It. For The Few Remaining Hours Of My Life I Will Keep It Close. This Last Gift From Peeta. The Only One I Can Really Accept. Perhaps It Will Give Me Strength In The Final Moments.