"I'm sorry I didn't save you," I blurt out, knowing that this was what I've been meaning to say for a while now. There's more, though. There's always more. He still doesn't know about the hijacking, but even the thought of that is terrible and tinged with memories. Peeta, pushing Jackson into a pod and killing him. Peeta, whispering my name in time with the mutts, eyes wild. We put him in handcuffs and put him in a closet. But that was before he begged us to shoot him.

Selfishly, I didn't. At the time I justified in saying that doing so would be letting President Snow win. But I knew that in the end my fate was so tied to his. That even a Peeta who hated me was better than knowing he was gone from this world.

Finnick had once told me that he almost wished we were all dead at times. Beyond the reach of the Capitol. It was typical Victor thinking to see that the arena expanded beyond the Games, like the man in the Hanging Tree urging his lover to come with him to safety.

But I could never wish it on somebody I loved, no matter how selfish that made me.