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.

Well, don't expect us to be too impressed. We just saw Finnick Odair in his underwear.

Better not to give in to it.

They don't own me. If I'm gonna die, I wanna still be me.

And here I am, strapped into a tree, a stone's throw from the biggest idiot in the games.

All the times these arms were my only refuge from the world. Perhaps not fully appreciated then, but so sweet in my memory, and now gone forever.

Don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around.