I Really Can't Think About

My Lips Are Just Forming His Name When His Fingers Lock Around My Throat.

I Clench His Hands To The Point Of Pain. "stay With Me." His Pupils Contract To Pinpoints, Dialate Again Rapidly, And Then Return To Something Resembling Normalcy. "always," He Murmurs.

I Realize, For The First Time, How Very Lonely I've Been In The Arena. How Comforting The Presence Of Another Human Being Can Be.

Our Romance Became A Key Strategy For Our Survival In The Arena. Only It Wasn't Just A Strategy For Peeta.

I Merely Feel Emptyness. A Hollow Of Dead Brush Where Flowers Use To Bloom.