Most Rats Read. Our Frustration Is, We

My Words Hang In The Air. I Look To The Screen, Hoping To See Them Recording Some Wave Of Reconciliation Going Through The Crowd. Instead I Watch Myself Get Shot On Television.

How About You, Mockingjay? You Feel Totally Safe?” “oh, Yeah. Right Up Until I Got Shot,” I Say.

All The General Fear I've Been Feeling Condenses Into An Immediate Fear Of This Girl, This Predator Who Might Kill Me In Seconds. Adrenaline Shoots Through Me And I Sling The Pack Over One Shoulder And Run Full-speed For The Woods. I Can Hear The Blade Whistling Toward Me And Reflexively Hike The Pack Up To Protect My Head. The Blade Lodges In The Pack. Both Straps On My Shoulders Now, I Make For The Trees. Somehow I Knew The Girl Will Not Pursue Me. That She'll Be Drawn Back Into The Cornucopia Before All The Good Stuff Is Gone. A Grin Crosses My Face. Thanks For The Knife, I Think.

I Volunteer!" I Gasp. "i Volunteer As Tribute!

The Main Thing I Feel Is A Sense Of Relief. That I Can Give Up This Game. That The Question Of Whether I Can Succeed In This Venture Has Been Answered, Even If That Answer Is A Resounding No. That If Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures, I Am Free To Act As Desperately As I Want.