The Only Thing Worse Than Fighting A

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.

Because I'm Selfish. I'm A Coward. I'm The Kind Of Girl Who, When She Might Actually Be Of Use, Would Run To Stay Alive And Leave Those Who Couldn't Follow To Suffer And Die.

Tuck In Your Tail, Little Duck.

Underground. Which I Hate. Like Mines And Tunnels And 13. Underground, Where I Dread Dying, Which Is Stupid Because Even If I Die Aboveground, The Next Thing They'll Do Is Bury Me Underground Anyway.

The Only Indication Of The Passage Of Time Lies In The Heavens, The Subtle Shift Of The Moon. So Peeta Begins Pointing It Out To Me, Insisting I Acknowledge Its Progress And Sometimes, For Just A Moment I Feel A Flicker Of Hope Before The Agony Of The Night Engulfs Me Again.