Want A Sugar Cube?- Finnick

And While I Was Talking, The Idea Of Actually Losing Peeta Hit Me Again And I Realized How Much I Don't Want Him To Die. And It's Not About The Sponsors. And It's Not About What Will Happen When We Get Home. And It's Not Just That I Don't Want To Be Alone. It's Him. I Do Not Want To Lose The Boy With The Bread.

I Drink In His Wholeness, The Soudness Of His Body And Mind. It Runs Through Me Like The Morphling They Give Me In The Hospital, Dulling The Pain Of The Last Weeks.

The Sun Persists In Rising, So I Make Myself Stand

There's Always Hand-to-hand Combat. All You Need Is To Come Up With A Knife, And You'll At Least Stand A Chance. If I Get Jumped, I'm Dead!" I Can Hear My Voice Rising In Anger. "but You Won't! You'll Be Living Up In Some Tree Eating Raw Squirrels And Picking Off People With Arrows.

He Could Have Had His Choice Of Any Woman In The District. And He Chose Solitude. Not Solitude – That Sounds Too Peaceful. More Like Solitary Confinement.