I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.

That should have been my strategy! By the time I’ve worked through the emotions of surprise, admiration, anger, jealousy, and frustration, I’m watching that reddish mane of hair disappear into the trees well out of shooting range.

Yes. I killed him. And buried her in flowers," I say. "And I sang her to sleep.

It's meant to be pretty," whispers Octavia, and I can see the tears threatening to spill over her lashes. Posy considers this and says matter-of-factly, "I think you'd be pretty in any color." The tiniest of smiles forms on Octavia's lips. "Thank you.

Here's some advice. Stay alive.

I stare at the mirror as I try to remember who I am and who I am not.

Then he smiles as if he'd be happy to lie there and gaze at me forever.