It Starts At Midnight.

Whenever I Write A Story, I Hope It Appeals To Both Boys And Girls.

But In My Head I Can Hear Haymitch's Smug, If Slightly Exasperated, Words: "yes, That's What I'm Looking For, Sweetheart.

Gale Is Mine. I Am His. Anything Else Is Unthinkable.

I Wish Peeta Were Here To Hold Me, Until I Remember I'm Not Supposed To Wish That Anymore. I Have Chosen Gale And The Rebellion, And A Future With Peeta Is The Capitol's Design, Not Mine.

There's No District 12 To Escape From Now, No Peacekeepers To Trick, No Hungry Mouths To Feed. The Capitol Took Away All Of That, And I'm On The Verge Of Losing Gale As Well. The Glue Of Mutual Needs That Bonded Us So Tightly Together For All Those Years Is Melting Away.