I've been played, and it's so obvious that I should've seen it coming.

Of course he also had promised Katniss that I'd survive this. It encouraged us to protect one another so that at least one of us had a good chance at being rescued.

I don't know what they have planned for me. Honestly, I don't really give a damn right now.

To his credit, Haymitch doesn't show his face to me for the rest of the trip. If there's anything he wants, he relays the message to me through Chaff or Beetee. In the end, I do understand why he did what he did. Also, I know that we'll have to face each other soon, but now is not the time.

I spend most of the journey in my room, either in bed or on the chair next to it. And it's not because I'm moping. Yes, part of it is so I don't have to run into Haymitch. However, another part is that ever since I ran into that force field, and then said force field exploded, my fake leg has been malfunctioning. Beetee is currently working on it, but he tells me that, since prosthetics aren't his specialty, it probably won't be up to optimal condition. So I'll likely be walking with a limp until a better repair person or replacement is found.

Oh well, it's not as if I was a graceful person even when I had two natural and uninjured legs.

If there is any person I really talk with, it's Chaff. There's the obvious fact that we share a room, but the main thing is that we already gained that repertoire before the Quell. The great thing about him is that, while he generally has a sardonic wit similar to Haymitch, he is way more good-natured and self-depreciating about it. He's also understanding enough not to prod or heap pity upon me. So the inane banter we have actually helps relieve a lot of the stress.

Beetee's someone else that I get along with. However, while friendly, he's not exactly the sociable or talkative type. Well, unless it has to do with something tech-related, in which case the rest of us usually have no clue what he's talking about. He also has this detached way of viewing things that can sometimes border on the unnerving.

I have little tolerance for Plutarch. Even without his former blood-stained position as Head Gamemaker, secretly a rebel or not, there is simply this pompous overbearing quality of his that's completely off-putting and sets my teeth on edge.

To avoid being detected or giving away our intended destination, the hovercraft has been taking a roundabout path through the districts, always staying away from populated areas. Also, as the Capitol and Two were the two places that we had to avoid completely, we were required to travel south for a distance before going east, then north.

Occasionally, I can see smoke rising in the distance during the day, or the orange glow of a burning community at night, signifying the ongoing conflict.

When we reach Twelve, we are even more roundabout in the way we travel. Apparently the whole district has been put under lockdown. From what I'm told, it's even worse in Three and Eleven; they are killing-off ten percent of the population in the largest city of each district. All things considered, Chaff and Beetee seem to be taking it relatively well. Chaff is used to the hardship and summary executions, and any anger he has, he seems to be storing inside for later. Beetee… rationalizes it away in a "repercussions are inevitable in the short term, so the only thing that matters is what happens in the long term" kind of manner; definitely unnerving.

I wonder how everybody in Twelve is doing. I worry for all the people I know there: my friends, my family, Prim, Ms. Everdeen… even Gale.

A couple days into our trip, we settle down by a lake. For some reason, the area has a sense of familiarity to it.

"Why are we stopping?" I ask. For the longest time, it's been one non-stop voyage.

Chaff shrugs. "Apparently there's a couple passengers that we need to pick up."

It is not very long before the hovercraft takes off again. Several minutes, in walks one of the new passengers: the last person I wish to see.

"Hey, if it ain't the cousin…" From the way he delivers the last word, I suspect that Chaff doesn't believe that's the actual relation to Katniss.

I expected Gale to be angry. Besides the fact that it seems to be his default expression, he has every right to be angry with me; I'm here and Katniss is within Snow's clutches. However, there seems to be another set of emotions interplaying on his face: weariness, sorrow, and, for some inexplicable reason when he looks at me, pity.

"Gale, I—"

He silences me with an upheld hand. "Don't bother, Mellark. Can't say that I'm not upset about you being here instead of Katniss, but it'd be hypocritical of me to rip into you."

I'm now confused. "Why? What's—"

"I had one simple job: watch over Prim and Ms. Everdeen," Gale says as his voice briefly catches, "and I failed at that."

The knot in my stomach returns. "What happened?"

"I was out when the explosion occurred on the television and the Capitol cut the broadcast. By the time I ran back to the Victor's Village, they had a large set of Peacekeepers escorting the two to the train station. It was too risky for me to rescue them, so I backed off. For the looks of it, I think they're safe but…" He breaks off and looks away. "As they locked the place down, I knew that they would be coming for me and my family next. So we escaped and went to the location certain people told us to wait at in case of an emergency. Fortunately, they cut the power right after the explosion, so we were able to make an opening in the fence. We barely made it out before they completely manned and fortified the borders. It— it was supposed to be all three of our families."

I put my face into my hands. It's as if every single fear of mine is coming true. Except…

It was supposed to be all three of our families? Then where's—

"Peeta?"

My thoughts are interrupted as I look over to see a pair of wide gray eyes peering over the side of my bed. In spite of myself, I can't help but smile at owner of them.

"Hey, Posy. How are you?"

A small giggle comes from her. "Good. Gale took us for a trip to the forest. And now we get to ride in the flying house."

"That sounds like fun."

"Peeta, why you look so sad?"

Am I that obvious? "Just have a lot on my mind. That's all."

For being of such young age, Posy doesn't look like she believes me and proceeds to put a bundle of flowers on my bed. "Will this make you feel better? I pick them myself."

I pick the bundle up and look through it. Some of the flowers have already begun to wilt, but they are recognizable enough to jog my memory of the book I illustrated.

Yellow stars upon scarlet tubes, Spigelia marilandica; light purple petals around a spiny orange cone, Echinacea purpurea; spray of maroon stars, Xanthorhiza simplicissima; three petals of white per flower set in whorls… Sagittaria latifolia.

"They… they're beautiful… Thank you." Even though the lower half of her face is obscured by my bed, I can tell she's giving me a big smile at my words. The smile helps me maintain my composure.

"Posy, are you bothering the boy?" Hazelle stands in the doorway while cradling a bundle.

Huh, I don't remember her ever being pregnant…

I suddenly notice how pale Gale has gotten. Something's wrong.

Posy, of course, is oblivious to this. "No. Just giving Peeta the flowers I pick."

"I'm sure he likes them. Come along now. Your brother needs to talk about something important." As Hazelle ushers Posy out of the room, she gives Gale a very pointed look.

Before he can say anything, I ask, "Whose baby is that?"

Despite how uncomfortable he looks right now, Gale doesn't mince words: "She's your brother's."

No. Please no…

"And why… do you have her?" The knot threatens to tear me apart from the inside out.

He takes a deep breath before saying, "After you were taken out, the Capitol had to show some sign of its might besides just sending in more Peacekeepers and closing the district off. Since you had symbolic value… they decided to strike back in their own symbolic manner. So they took your family and—"

This time, it's my turn to hold up a silencing hand. I need to see this for myself.

I look over Chaff and say in a measured manner, "Please tell them to bring me the footage. I know they recorded it."


My father, mother, brothers and sister-in-law are on national television… at the gallows in the town square. Though the nooses are already at their necks, the platform at their feet hasn't yet dropped.

Dad's resigned, Mother's livid, and my siblings by birth and law don't even bother keeping the tears at bay as they stand as close to each other as possible.

There is a call for any last words, and Dad's the one to speak:

"Peeta, whatever happens, know that we love you."

"No. Not all of us," my mother cuts in. Dad simply squeezes his eyes shut and bows his head, while my siblings look on in disbelief. Even a few Peacekeepers appear to be uncomfortable. Mother pays them no heed but continues:

"I know that family bonds are supposed to be unbreakable. But you have gone too far for me to call you my son.

"You could have simply allowed Everdeen to win. Our district would have still been graced with the honor and goods of having a victor. But no; you just had to play the part of the pitiful romantic and proclaim your love for that Seam Rat. Now look at where it's gotten you. Look where it's gotten us all, you worthless creature. Because this is all your fault.

"This. Is. All. Your. Fau—"


The platform drops at exactly the same moment I shut the television off. It's just me, Gale, and Chaff in the room. None of us say anything for a while until Gale decides to break the silence.

"Ma insisted that I check on the baby. So right after the execution, I went over to the bakery and saw that she was spared. So I grabbed her and ran. Don't worry: she will be taken care…"

I don't bother saying anything in response; I just nod at key points. I think Gale currently is trying to encourage me, but by now, all the words have become an incomprehensible drone. He finally takes notice of this and quietly leaves. Chaff does the same, even though this is his room as well; something registers that he's leaving to give me some peace.

So when the door shuts, I allow myself to curl into a ball while sobs wrack my body and my mother's last words repeat in an endless loop. The words continue into my dreams, but it's no longer my mother saying them: it's Katniss.