A verbal promise behind closed doors, even a statement written on paper-these could easily evaporate . . . .

Fine, than I will not have to blame you for killing my friends with your stupidity. -Haymitch

Katniss, got that spile?" Finnick asks, snapping me back to reality.

Not only does he hate me, and want to kill me, he no longer believes I'm human. It was less painful being strangled.

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim`s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the Reaping.

The glue of mutual need that bonded us so tightly together for all those years is melting away. Dark patches, not light, show in the spaces between us.

In stark contrast to two nights ago, when I felt Peeta was a million miles away, I'm struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else's arms have made me feel this safe.