Ladies And Gentlemen....." His Voice Is Quiet,

I Curl Up, Make Myself Smaller, Try To Disappear Entirely. Wrapped In Silence, I Slide My Bracelet That Reads 'mentally Disoriented' Around And Around My Wrist.

So That's Who Finnick Loves, I Think. Not His String Of Fancy Lovers In The Capitol. But A Poor, Mad Girl Back Home.

I Drink In His Wholeness, The Soudness Of His Body And Mind. It Runs Through Me Like The Morphling They Give Me In The Hospital, Dulling The Pain Of The Last Weeks.

The Rat Turned His Glowing Eyes On Him, And Gregor Was Shocked By What He Saw There. The Intelligence, The Deadliness, And, Most Surprisingly, The Pain. This Rat Was Not Like Fangor And Shed. He Was Much More Complicated And Much More Dangerous. For The First Time In The Underland, Gregor Felt Completely Out Of His League. If He Fought This Rat, He Wouldn't Stand A Change. He Would Lose. He Would Be Dead.

In District 12, Looking Old Is Something Of An Achievement Since So Many People Die Early. You See An Elderly Person, You Want To Congratulate Them On Their Longevity, Ask The Secret Of Survival. A Plump Person Is Envied Because They Aren't Scraping By Like The Majority Of Us. But Here Is Different. Wrinkles Aren't Desirable. A Round Belly Isn't A Sign Of Success.