Since My Father Died And I Stopped

It Is A Perfect Weapon

If You Appeal To The Crowd, Either By Being Humorous Or Brutal Or Eccentric, You Gain Favor.

It's A Long Shot, It's Suicide Maybe, But I Do The Only Thing I Can Think Of. I Lean In And Kiss Peeta Full On The Mouth. His Whole Body Starts Shuddering, But I Keep My Lips Pressed To His Until I Have To Come Up For Air. My Hands Slide Up His Wrists To Clasp His. "don't Let Him Take You From Me." Peeta's Panting Hard As He Fights The Nightmares Raging His Head. "no. I Don't Want To. . ." I Clench His Hands To The Point Of Pain. "stay With Me." His Pupils Contract To Pinpoints, Dilate Again Rapidly, And Then Return To Something Resembling Normalcy. "always," He Murmurs.

There's Plenty Of Blame To Go Around.

Because I Can't Handle The Nightmares. Not Without You.