As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.

I merely feel emptyness. A hollow of dead brush where flowers use to bloom.

I know we promised Haymitch, we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle.' 'Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?' says Peeta. 'With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame,' I say.

I'm sick of people lying to me for my own good. Because really it's mostly for their own good.

Look, if you wanted to be babied you should have asked Peeta.

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

Because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it.