That if desperate times call for desperate measures, then I'm free to act as desperately as I wish.

Mutually counting on each other, watching each other's backs, forcing each other to be brave.

It sends out a very clear message: "Mess with us and we'll do something worse than kill you. We'll kill your children.

Crying is not an option.

Yeah, about that,” says Peeta, entwining his fingers in mine. “Don’t try something like that again.” “Or what?” I ask. “Or . . . or . . .” He can’t think of anything good. “Just give me a minute.

I'm not flailing now, as my muscles are rigid with the tension of holding myself together.

I know he was desperate. That makes people do all kinds of crazy things.