No one really needs me," he says, and there is no self-pity in his voice. It's true his family doesn't need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch, with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me. "I do," I say. "I need you.

Obviously this person's a hazard. Stupid people are dangerous.

At the moment, the choice would be simple. I can survive just fine without either of them.

I miss home badly sometimes. But then I remember there's nothing left to miss anymore. I feel safer here.

Ladies and gentlemen....." His voice is quiet, but mine rings through the room. "Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!

I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips.

My mother just wanted me to forget it. So, of course, every word was immediately, irrevocably branded into my brain.