As I lie in my bed that night, I force myself to think – for the first time since the reaping – what my strategy will be like during the Games. I won't be a victor in the end, that much is guaranteed. That title would be suitable for one of the Careers – perhaps even Katniss. She certainly knows how to survive tough conditions; maybe not the conditions of the arena, but closer than I or many of the other tributes would be.

I myself was going to die before the Games were over, yes, but the most important part was dying how I wanted to. The Capitol might be able to control my lifespan, but they will not control my spirit, I tell myself. I have to live for something in the arena, or else my death will be meaningless. More importantly, I have to live – and fight – for something I truly desire, or else I will not die as myself. And the last thing I want is to spend my last moments before my death as a mere pawn of the Capitol.

Survival should probably be the thing to fight for, but I won't lie to myself and say it's a desire of mine. If I were to die in the arena, life would go on. My family would grieve, of course, but they would get over it eventually. No one would truly miss me. I know that if Katniss were to die, she would truly be missed. By her family, certainly, but by the rest of the district as well. Twelve has always admired her refusal to give in, that much I've observed.

I wonder foolishly for a minute if it possible to fight for someone instead of something.

Without a doubt, she deserves to live more than I do – probably more than any of the tributes, though my opinion may be biased. I've had feelings for her since the age of five. And while I know that whatever happens, I will never be able to kill her myself, I wonder if I'd be willing to risk my life ensuring that no one else will kill her, either.

Once I've reassured myself that I could do that, I know just what I will do.

I will fight and I will die, to save Katniss Everdeen.