I Start To Crack At Four Hundred

"what's Going On Down There, Katniss? Have They All Joined Hands? Taken A Vow Of Nonviolence? Tossed The Weapons In The Sea In Defiance Of The Capitol?" Finnick Asks. "no," I Say. "no," Finnick Repeats. "because Whatever Happened In The Past Is In The Past. And No One In This Arena Was A Victor By Chance." He Eyes Peeta For A Moment. "except Maybe Peeta."

Here Began Countless Days Of Hunting And Snaring, Fishing And Gathering, Roaming Together Through The Woods, Unloading Our Thoughts While We Filled Our Game Bags. This Was The Doorway To Both Sustenance And Sanity. And We Were Each Other's Key.

The Berries. I Realize The Answer To Who I Am Lies In That Handful Of Poisonous Fruit. If I Held Them Out To Save Peeta Because I Knew I Would Be Shunned If I Came Back Without Him, Then I Am Despicable. If I Held Them Out Because I Loved Him, I Am Still Self-centered, Although Forgivable. But If I Held Them Out To Defy The Capitol, I Am Someone Of Worth. The Trouble Is, I Don't Know Exactly What Was Going On Inside Me At That Moment.

"i'm Not Their Slave," The Man Mutters. "i Am," I Say. "that's Why I Killed Cato ... And He Killed Thresh ... And He Killed Clove ... And She Tried To Kill Me. It Just Goes Around And Around, And Who Wins? Not Us. Not The Districts. Always The Capitol. But I'm Tired Of Being A Piece In Their Games."

And Then There Was Tick. Brave Little Tick, Who Had Flown Into The Faces Of An Army Of Rats To Save His Baby Sister. Tick - Who Never Spoke Much. Tick - Who Shared Her Food. Tick - Who Was After All Just A Roach. Just A Roach Who Had Given All The Time She Had Left So That Boots Could Have More. Gregor Pressed Boots's Fingers Against His Lips And Felt Scalding Tears Begin To Slide Down His Cheeks. He Hadn't Cried, Not The Whole Time He'd Been Down Here, And There Had Been Plenty Of Bad Stuff. But Somehow Tick's Sacrifice Had Crushed Whatever Thin Shell Remained Between Him And Sorrow.