"Make them believe you," Haymitch whispered into Peeta's ear, his hand tightly grasping the boy's stocky shoulder. "You're good with words, so this should be easy." Peeta nodded and took his cue, walking out onto the stage with a huge, fake grin plastered across his face.
Anger roared inside of me. My sister's face was all I could see, instead of the young victor's. I could hear her voice calling my name. Singing a lullaby to Buttercup during a thunderstorm. Ushering her goat back into through the gate.
She was dead because of him.
