I Killed You. And You. And You.

But In School I Remember Hearing That For The Second Quarter Quell, The Capitol Demanded That Twice The Number Of Tributes Be Provided For The Arena. The Teachers Didn't Go Into Much More Detail, Which Is Surprising, Because That Was The Year District 12's Very Own Haymitch Abernathy Won The Crown.

I Mourn My Old Life Here. We Barely Scraped By, But I Knew Where I Fit In, I Knew What My Place Was In The Tightly Interwoven Fabric That Was Our Life. I Wish I Could Go Back To It Because, In Retrospect, It Seems So Secure Compared To Now, When I Am So Rich And Famous And So Hated By The Authorities In The Capitol.

Your Only Defense Can Be You Were So Madly In Love You Weren't Responsible For Your Actions.

In Stark Contrast To Two Nights Ago, When I Felt Peeta Was A Million Miles Away, I'm Struck By His Immediacy Now. As We Settle In, He Pulls My Head Down To Use His Arm As A Pillow; The Other Rests Protectively Over Me Even When He Goes To Sleep. No One Has Held Me Like This In Such A Long Time. Since My Father Died And I Stopped Trusting My Mother, No One Else's Arms Have Made Me Feel This Safe.

I Think Of The Snarling, Cruel Exchange Back On The Hovercraft. The Bitterness That Followed. But All I Say Is "i Can't Believe You Didn't Rescue Peeta." "i Know," He Replies. There's A Sense Of Incompleteness. And Not Because He Hasn't Apologized. But Because We Were A Team. We Had A Deal To Keep Peeta Safe. A Drunken, Unrealistic Deal Made In The Dark Of Night, But A Deal Just The Same. And In My Heart Of Hearts, I Know We Both Failed. "now You Say It," I Tell Him. "i Can't Believe You Let Him Out Of Your Sight That Night," Says Haymitch.