If My Holding Out Those Berries Was

Do It. Before They Send Those Mutts Back Or Something. I Don't Want To Die Like Cato," He Says. “then You Shoot Me," I Say Furiously, Shoving The Weapons Back At Him. "you Shoot Me And Go Home And Live With It!" And As I Say It, I Know Death Right Here, Right Now Would Be The Easier Of The Two.

Sometimes When Things Are Particularly Bad, My Brain Will Give Me A Happy Dream. [...] When I Fully Awaken, I'm Momentarily Comforted. I Try To Hold On To The Peaceful Feeling Of The Dream, But It Quickly Slips Away, Leaving Me Sadder Than Ever.

But Between The Images, We Are Privy To The Real-life Action Being Played Out On The Set. Peeta's Attempt To Continue Speaking. The Camera Knocked Down To Record The White Tiled Floor. The Scuffle Of Boots. The Impact Of The Blow That's Inseparable From Peeta's Cry Of Pain. And His Blood As It Splatters The Tiles.

No One Knows What To Do With You, Girlie.

I Look Down At Our Linked Fingers As I Loosen My Grasp, But He Regains His Grip On Me. “no, Don’t Let Go Of Me,” He Says.