I Killed You. And You. And You.

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.

If You Had Hope, Maybe You Could Find A Way To Make Things Change,. Because If You Thought About It, There Were So Many Reasons To Try.

We're Supposed To Be Making Up This Stuff, Playing At Being In Love, Not Actually Being In Love.

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.

Peeta Smiles And Douses Haymitch's Knife In White Liquor From A Bottle On The Floor. He Wipes The Blade Clean On His Shirt Tail And Slices The Bread. Peeta Keeps All Of Us In Fresh Baked Goods. I Hunt. He Bakes. Haymitch Drinks. We Have Our Own Ways To Stay Busy, To Keep Thought Of Our Time As Contestants In The Hunger Games At Bay.