I can't sleep.
No matter what I do, the thoughts keep pounding in my head. What if my family sees me? Of course, they'll see me, but what will they do? Will they turn away and try to drown out the void of silence that I filled? Or will they be glued to the screen by morbid fascination? What will they do when I'm returned to District 12? Will they cry over me as they lower me into the ground, or will they look down at me once and try to forget? Where does Lady think I've gone? And Buttercup? Who's feeding him, who's cuddling with him, does he know where I've gone? I'm too exhausted to even think of tomorrow. Maybe if I ignore it, tomorrow will never come. Maybe it's just a dream and I'll wake up just in time.
I can't stop. I silently walk out to the living room, where the huge floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the Capitol, where the lights and sounds are too vibrant to miss. Peeta's sitting there already, with his arms wrapped around his knees. I sit across from him and he smiles. "Can't sleep?"
I nod and sit down across from him and wrap my arms around my knees. I look outside at the people in weird costumes. "Do you think they're okay? Back at home?"
He nods and smiles out the window. "She'll handle everything just fine until you get home. I guarantee it."
"You were supposed to marry her, you know." That was always the plan. He even gave her a ring. Not a wedding ring, not a diamond, but a small ring that fit her finger perfectly. It was his promise to her.
"I know." He looks down at his hands and back out the window. "When you get back, tell her that I love her, okay?"
I roll my eyes at the party. "I'm not getting back."
He gives a half-hearted laugh. "Yes, you will. I'm going to protect you. You have to get back to her."
"But what about you?" I ask. He can't deny that he wants to get back to her. That he fantasizes about a life with her.
"I don't mind." He replies. I don't know what to think. So I go back to bed. Should I thank him? That seems too little. He's willing to get me back to my sister even though it means he won't.
I don't see Peeta the next morning, only Cinna. We fly in a hovercraft over to the catacombs, under the arena. They insert a tracker into my arm and I flinch as it goes into my arm. The ride lasts half an hour and we're under the arena. I'm dressed in brown pants, a dark green shirt, and a black thin hooded jacket. I have leather boots with rubber soles, like my sister's back at home.
We don't talk. I worry that if I so much as open my mouth, I'll vomit. He hugs me, then I walk onto the circular metal plate. Cinna puts his finger under my chin and I hold my head high and steps back as the plate begins to rise.
After about fifteen seconds, I feel the cool air on my face. The sun's in my eyes and I can barely make out the silver cornucopia in the middle, full of supplies.
I hear counting down from ten, then I hear the voice of Claudius Templesmith, the voice that so many Capitol citizens love and the voice so many district people dread. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games begin!"