As The Alcohol Overcomes My Mind, I

I Killed You. And You. And You.

A Verbal Promise Behind Closed Doors, Even A Statement Written On Paper-these Could Easily Evaporate . . . .

You're Punishing Him Over And Over For Things That Are Out Of His Control. Now, I'm Not Saying You Shouldn't Have A Fully Loaded Weapon Next To You Round The Clock. But I Think It's Time You Flipped This Little Scenario In Your Head. If You'd Been Taken By The Capitol, And Hijacked, And Then Tried To Kill Peeta, Is This The Way He Would Be Treating You?" Demands Haymitch. I Fall Silent. It Isn't. It Isn't How He Would Be Treating Me At All. He Would Be Trying To Get Me Back At Any Cost. Not Shutting Me Out, Abandoning Me, Greeting Me With Hostility At Every Turn.

It’s Not Wondering What I Breathe In, But Who, That Threatens To Choke Me.

And Here I Am, Strapped Into A Tree, A Stone's Throw From The Biggest Idiot In The Games.