Orange? Like Effie's Hair?" I Say. "a

In District 12, Looking Old Is Something Of An Achievement Since So Many People Die Early. You See An Elderly Person, You Want To Congratulate Them On Their Longevity, Ask The Secret Of Survival. A Plump Person Is Envied Because They Aren't Scraping By Like The Majority Of Us. But Here Is Different. Wrinkles Aren't Desirable. A Round Belly Isn't A Sign Of Success.

There's No District 12 To Escape From Now, No Peacekeepers To Trick, No Hungry Mouths To Feed. The Capitol Took Away All Of That, And I'm On The Verge Of Losing Gale As Well. The Glue Of Mutual Needs That Bonded Us So Tightly Together For All Those Years Is Melting Away.

The Numbness Of His Loss Had Passed, And The Pain Would Hit Me Out Of Nowhere, Doubling Me Over, Racking My Body With Sobs. Where Are You? I Would Cry Out In My Mind. Where Have You Gone? Of Course, There Was Never Any Answer.

The Damage, The Fatigue, The Imperfections. That's How They Recognize Me; Why I Belong To Them.

You'd Have Thought We Planned It," Says Peeta, Giving Me Just The Hint Of A Smile. "didn't You?" Asks Portia. Her Fingers Press Her Eyelids Closed As If She's Warding Off A Very Bright Light. "no," I Say Looking At Peeta With A New Sense Of Apreciation. "neither Of Us Even Knew What We Were Going To Do Before We Went In." "and Haymitch?" Says Peeta. "we Decided We Don't Want Any Other Allies In The Arena." "good. Then I Won't Be Responsible For You Killing Off Any Of My Friends With Your Stupidity," He Says.