I don't own the Hunger Games.

"How are you doing today, Peeta?"

I look straight ahead of me, at the last card house I built. I got up six levels—but the most I've done is thirteen. "As good as usual, Mr. President. Which is to say not good at all, thanks to you."

President Snow smiles, stops his pacing. "That hasn't changed, then."

"What did you think tracker jacker torture would do?" I ask. "Change my opinion of you?"

He laughs. "No. Of course not."

"Because if anything, it's made my opinion of you, your government, and your city, look way more horrible than it already is," I go on.

"I'm sure it has. I'm glad it has."

I raise a brow.

The president of Panem gives me a small smile. What is he up to? "There is so much more to this than you do not understand, Peeta Mellark..."

"And I'm guessing you won't tell me."

"Of course." He puts his hands in his pockets. "Hmm... I guess there is one thing. I wonder if you remember. You told me a bit of advice once. That to get a certain someone on my side, I needed to get that person to hate the opposition more than that person hated me."

"I think I'm following..." I say slowly.

"Do you remember that?" he asks.

…

Stars spin around my head.

To make her go against you, you have to make her hate the rebels more, I said.

Oh, I know, he replied.

The stars blink in front of my eyes.

…

"A little," I answer. "The memory's a bit... shiny."

President Snow hesitates, but he nods. "Do you remember who we were talking about?"

I think back, but nothing comes to me. Just... stars. "No."

"Okay. Listen to me," he says, after a very, very, long pause. "Today is your last day in the Capitol."

"Am I going to die today, Mr. President?"

"No," he replies. "But the rebels are going to take you back."

I process this. Then I look up at him, startled. "And you just plan on letting them?"

"Certainly." President Snow smiles. "You're no use to me now."

"What use was I to you ever?" I demand.

"Well."

I recognize that 'well'. It's that 'well' that the president uses whenever he's decided that the conversation's gone too far, that there's this question I've asked that he cannot or—more probably—will not answer, that our talk will soon be terminated. I lean back in my seat, fully expecting it.

But he says, "I guess you don't remember. But I'm not going to go about reminding you. I think you ought to remember it yourself."

"You're hiding something from me," I say.

"We are not friends, Peeta Mellark. I will always tell you the truth, but to do that there has to be some things that I can't tell you." President Snow gives me another smile. It's supposed to make me feel safe near him, but now all the more I am frightened of what he is capable of doing to me—what he has done to me. "There's just one last thing I want to say to you before the rebels come."

"Yeah?"

He steps toward me. Blood and roses.

"Katniss Everdeen."

My heart rate quickens. "How dare you—how can you say that name to me—after everything—"

President Snow shakes his head. That was the last thing he was going to say to me. He exits the room with nothing else to say.

I am going back to the rebels, then. In a lot of ways, that's a good thing.

Kill Katniss Everdeen.

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