Because When He Sings...even The Birds Stop

But Between The Images, We Are Privy To The Real-life Action Being Played Out On The Set. Peeta's Attempt To Continue Speaking. The Camera Knocked Down To Record The White Tiled Floor. The Scuffle Of Boots. The Impact Of The Blow That's Inseparable From Peeta's Cry Of Pain. And His Blood As It Splatters The Tiles.

Despite What I Feel For Peeta, This Is When I Accept Deep Down That He'll Never Come Back To Me. Or I'll Never Go Back To Him. I'll Die For My Trouble. And He'll Die Insane And Hating Me.

No One Really Needs Me," He Says, And There Is No Self-pity In His Voice. It's True His Family Doesn't Need Him. They Will Mourn Him, As Will A Handful Of Friends. But They Will Get On. Even Haymitch, With The Help Of A Lot Of White Liquor, Will Get On. I Realize Only One Person Will Be Damaged Beyond Repair If Peeta Dies. Me. "i Do," I Say. "i Need You.

And Then, When He’s Been Underwater So Long I Feel Certain He’s Drowned, His Head Pops Up Right Next To Me And I Start. “don’t Do That,” I Say. “what? Come Up Or Stay Under?” He Says. “either. Neither. Whatever

Living Out Here, I Have Found That Many Creatures Would Prefer Not To Fight. But If Your First Instinct Is To Reach For Your Sword, You Will Never Discover That.