A/N: That was a nice note to end it on. I personally really like this chapter. :3 Starts with Peeta.

"I-" He's gone before I can even turn and say goodbye, or tell him I love him. I stand there for a minute, dumbfounded. "...love you." I whisper. Then, I look over at the clock. 10:55. We still had five minutes...something was wrong. Very wrong. I just stay as I am for the next five minutes until Portia shows up to walk me to go do my hair and "fix me up", as she says. ~

I run around the hallways looking for the meeting room-or even a bathroom, because now I really have to piss. Peeta's my fiance. Fiance. "Fiance," I whisper to myself. My tongue can barely form the word. "Boyfriend?" That sounds okay. That sounds more than okay. "Fiance...oh god." I mean, it's not like I lied to him. I was just saying what I felt. And I do want to be with him forever, and I don't think that will change. I love Peeta. "I'm going to marry Peeta Mellark." Well, fuck.

"What was that?"

Well FUCK. "Hmm?" I act surprised-because I was, but now I can't be so suspicious-and turn around. "Hi...Finnick. You're late too, huh?"

"Yeah, Annie and I got kind of...tied up back there." He smiles. Oh, I know that look. All too well. ~

"So...what're you going to do again?" I ask, looking at myself in a lit mirror for the first time in a long time. Someone could've told me I looked like I was a crazy homeless kid.

"Just a cut first." Portia says, fumbling through a bunch of drawers. "If the cut doesn't get rid of all of your..." She giggles. "Other colors, then we'll bleach and dye your tips."

"Great, that makes me sound at least twice as gay as I already am." I laugh. Portia always made me feel comfortable. She laughs, too. "As long as it looks like it's my own hair, I don't care what you do."

"Don't worry, I know you." ~

"I see." I nod slowly and start walking with him down the hallway. What to say to the man I practically worshipped for an entire eight or nine years? Yes, I've seen his Games many times. Sometimes, more than I would have liked to.

"So what were you saying?" he asks.

"Oh...nothing," I lie, "I was just talking to myself. I'm a little whacked out, in case anyone took the time to realize."

"I thought your boyfriend was the one who talks to himself." He laughs at me.

"Not my boyfriend!" I immediately go up to cover my mouth. Shit. "I mean, he doesn't talk to himself anymore." Fiance, fiance, fiance, my mind taunts me. Shut up! "He said he's an ass and doesn't like talking to himself anymore," I say, approaching a door numbered 1219. "This it?"

"...Yeah." He sighs and opens the door for me. So he's nervous, too. ~

She makes the first cut along the blackened ends of my hair, to get rid of that bad memory. "After I cut your hair, I'm going to fix you up a bit. I can do things that the medicine can't." She smiles, brushing through my hair again. "So, how's it feel to be dating Panem's most desired man?-after Finnick Odair, that is."

I laugh, and want to immediately respond and tell her about Cato and I, but then I remember how quickly he left when we still had spare time together. "Pretty good." I give her one of my big smiles. "He really is a nice guy, you know."

"I tried to tell you that before the Games, you know. That not all the Careers were bad kids, just a bit misguided." Portia was the only one I told about my crush on Cato. I bet she'd probably known all along when I went missing that's where I was. "Who was right?"

"You were." I roll my eyes, which I can now see in my reflection. "Yeah, yeah, you don't have to rub it in." ~

When we walk in the room, I stop short when I see that most of the seats are already filled; just two are empty. Yep, we're late.

"How very nice of you to join us," Coin says, with an obvious tone of detestment on her tongue. "Didn't you check your schedules?"

"Yeah, we just left l-"

"He got lost," Finnick cuts me off, sitting down in one of the chairs. "So I was just guiding him through the hallway."

Ah. I get it. Late is a bad thing to be. "Yeah, I'm just a little delirious today." That isn't much of a lie. I pull out the seat next to Finnick and sit down carefully, as to not upset my stomach. I still want to throw up. When I look around the room, there are the obvious familiar faces-Coin, Finnick, Johanna, and even Haymitch-but some others are here, too. I haven't met these people yet. ~

"I'm just saying." She sprays my hair with a bunch of water and some weird shampoo-type thing. I remember it from before the Games. It smells really nice. Like lilies. "Now keep your head still, or I'm going to cut it unevenly and you're going to look horrible."

"I can't get much worse than my hair the past few months, right?" I laugh, coughing a bit at inhaling the shampoo-lily-spray-thing.

She shakes her head at me. "Did you do this yourself?" She pulls up the last bits of my brown hair. "Not bad."

"I got it in Nine. I followed the box." I admit. "It wasn't that hard, but it kinda burned my scalp." That wasn't fun to do in a small hotel room. Ow.

"Your poor hair." She sighs, snipping off the brown bits she had in her hand. "You haven't washed your face in months, have you?" She looks at me in the mirror. "We have lots of work to do to make you presentable for the cameras, Mellark." ~

"These plans won't be final until we see the reactions to Peeta Mellark's broadcast tonight. Depending on which way people in the Districts sway, our plan of action may or may not be suitable for the situation. We're still planning, nonetheless, with several backup plans so that we'll be ready no matter how this turns out." All while Coin drones on about shit like fighting and such, I think about Peeta. My fiance. I give a small shiver, then realize that the president hasn't taken her eyes off me. She doesn't look pleased. "Any questions before we begin?" The question is open for everyone, I think, but it seems directed more towards me.

"Um...yeah. I don't know some of these people, so I was just wondering...who...?" I ask, referring to the three unnamed people sitting at the table with us.

"Members of your team," she says. "Carissa," she points to the girl sitting next to Johanna, two seats away from me; she has long, auburn hair, and looks quite short, but she has to be in her mid-twenties. "Myron," Coin points to the man sitting next to Finnick; brown-haired and probably somewhere in his late-twenties or early-thirties. "And Vince." She refers to the twenty-something year old blonde sitting next to her. "Learn to play nice with them."

"Wait, it's just the six of us?" I thought there would be way more people involved in this.

"On your team, yes." She sighs, annoyed. "If you're going to lead the rebellion and carry out special missions, you can't have too many people dragging behind you. We chose the six best for your missions. There are others-Boggs, Jackson, Cressida...all preparing for the ultimate attack on the Capitol, which cannot be done without you all doing your jobs first. And after it all, if you're still fit for the job, you'll likely be going to the Capitol as well." ~

"Well, we have a while, right?" I ask, watching my hair fall to the ground.

"No! You record tonight!" She laughs. What. "No one told you?" She leaves me for a moment to grab a bottle of something that smelled foul.

"Nope! No one told me!" I whine. "What is that?!"

"Bleach. If I cut any more of the brown off, you're going to look terrible. They said they wanted you like the Games, but a lot...better off?" She puts on a pair of gloves. "Don't worry. It won't hurt, you baby."

"Not funny!" I shut my eyes, yelping as the chair leans back and she starts to put what I assume to be the bleach on my hair. "It smells horrible!"

"Stop whining. Beauty isn't always fun, darling." Well, Cato'd get his blonde Peeta back. Whether he wanted him or not, though, was still in the back of my mind. ~

"Okay...thanks. That's all I was wondering." They chose the six best for these specific missions. Okay. I'm ranked up there with my childhood idol, Finnick Odair. Well, this puts me in a better mood.

President Coin looks around the room for anymore questions. No one speaks up, so she continues on her endless explanation about what's going to happen. "Our last resort is to send people straight to the Capitol." That's a relief. "We would rather wait until we secure the Districts first, then send mass troops in. At this point, we're hoping to send you out to District Two. It all depends on how District Four sways. It would be to our advantage to pick up one of those so-called 'Career Districts,'" she looks at me, "as soon as possible, since they are most favored by the Capitol. District Four just might rebel due to the nation's favorite victor being one of the leaders of the rebellion, but one can never be sure. Our best bet would be District Two."

Why District Two? Why? Are people rebelling there? Or does she just want to dispose of me as soon as possible? Sending me out to District Two might just be the equivalent of sending us to the Capitol. But I don't object. I just nod, pretending I understand why.

Although, I'm still hoping for rebellion in Four. ~

"Yeah, yeah." I stick my tongue out at her. "I didn't ask for this. The bleach, at least."

"Stop complaining." She laughs at my face. "Seriously, you're going to look great. I've got a pretty good template, but you won't recognize yourself when I'm done-in a good way, that is. You'll look like you, if you'd never been in the conditions and grew up in better conditions."

"I'll look good?" I go to open my eyes to see her face, but she shuns me.

"You'll look amazing, Peeta. Relax." She giggles. "I know you want to impress him."

"Funny, very funny." I smile. "Maybe. Just a little."

"You can open your eyes now." I hear her say, and I open as the chair sits me back up vertically. "Now I've gotta dye you, then we'll work on the face and your body."

"Can we pick out new clothes too?" ~

"You'll all start training at 900 tomorrow morning, right after breakfast. Then you break for two hours for lunch at 1300, and you continue all the way until dinner. This will continue for the next four or five days, at the very least."

I groan. I've spent my entire life training...and now I have to again. Without Peeta, too.

"Is something wrong?" Coin asks me.

Assuming it's a rhetorical question, I answer, "Nothing at all," in the most sincere way I can possibly manage.

"Good. Now, if all goes as planned, you'll be sent in by hovercraft..." She goes on about how we'll most likely be dropped off near the middle of Two-not the direct center, where the Justice Building is, but a little farther off. Maybe that's near Victors' Village. Maybe not. We're supposed to force a surrender in District Two, or whichever District we end up going to. Like I said, hopefully it's Four. But if we go to Two, then I know exactly who is supposed to surrender there. ~

"I think you look adorable in this!" She laughs at my shock. "You do, but they're obviously not going to have you in this for your propos."

"Thank goodness." I sigh. "What am I wearing?"

"That's a surprise...You'll find out soon enough. Now stop talking. Let me work on your face. Shut your eyes.

I do, and the first thing I see is him. My mind plays through everything that's happened in the past couple of hours, and what I could have done wrong to make him rush out of there like that. Did I smell funny? No, he's seen me worse. Did I say something in my sleep? My dreams were all good. Happy. Maybe I kicked him or hit him when we were out? Now I'm thinking way too much about this. You're just going to have to talk to him about it. But I won't get the chance till late. On the way here, Portia told me I'd have to eat with her because I'd be working all day. No community lunch. No Cato until 2300 tonight, when I was done shooting. It'd haunt me for the rest of the day. I wish I could've told him I didn't have time. I didn't understand the scheduling. Now he's going to think I'm avoiding him...damnit. ~

"Do you understand?"

We all nod in response. This is definitely the Hunger Games Extreme. They're going to teach us how to use guns, and about possible attacks, and how to counterattack-everything we need to know if we want to have a chance at coming back alive. That's what makes me nervous the most. Will I ever see Peeta after this week? I just want my boyfriend here with me.

Fiance.

Peeta, get out of my head.

And now, I feel sick again.

"Myron, due to seniority and experience, will head your team."

My hands are shaking underneath the table. I look afraid; people probably think that I'm afraid to go fight. I still am a little bit, but they don't really know why I'm scared. It's because I said I'd marry Peeta. I asked him if we could get married.

MARRIED.

I'm not ready for that. I don't see how he could be.

"You may be dismissed now." ~

Maybe it was this whole thing about getting married. But it was him. His idea. I mean, it wasn't even like we were technically engaged or anything...it's just that promise. That you will be, one day. That someday, you want to spend the rest of your lives together as something more than dating. But that can't be it. Because he brought it up first. It was all him. So I throw that idea out of the window. "Hey, Portia?"

"Mmm?" She says, definitely holding something in her mouth.

"I..." I can't put all of this on her. But I need to talk to someone. "Did you see Cato at all when you were on your way to my room?" ~

As we leave the room, Finnick pulls me to the side and waits until everyone is out of earshot. He says, "I don't think she trusts you."

"Who?"

"Coin," he whispers. "I can see it in her eyes."

"I thought she just hated me because I always interrupt." Never has it crossed my mind that she would consider me distrustful. After bringing Peeta here? Definitely not. "Why wouldn't she trust me?"

"It must be something about you. You seemed kinda off this morning, too. She probably thinks you're working for the Capitol or something. I mean...your dad, you know." Finnick is a smart man, so he's probably onto something.

"Then why would she pick me to go with you guys?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. To make sure you end up dead? I think she thinks you'd be a traitor. But that's just my input." He points between the two of us. "This conversation never happened." ~

"Actually, no, I didn't." Of course not. He left minutes before she came. But they would've run into each other, maybe... "Why? What's wrong?"

"I...I don't know. And that's the worst part." I sigh. "We were fine this morning...more than fine, really." I smile a little, thinking about it all. "We were even counting down the minutes left until we both had to leave. But then he just said he had to go...and ran out."

"Oh, Peeta..." She coos. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"But that's exactly what happened. We were just talking, joking, laughing...and he left." Talking about it, I'm getting a bit emotional and nervous. "I don't know what I did."

"I'm sure it's nothing crazy. I mean, you both only got here two days ago-this may sting-" It did. I yelp. "-so nothing could really go that wrong in two days."

I proceed to elaborate on the night before last, our fight, the terrible words exchanged... "I just wish I knew." ~

"Alright," I say nervously as he walks down the hallway in the opposite direction as me. Everything I say sounds nervous now. Because I'm a fucking wreck. But I can't be, because it's an hour to lunch so I have time to kill in our room. Maybe he'll be back, but probably not. With his face, his hair, his...everything, which was perfect enough already...he'd probably be gone for a while.

So I just sit on my bed-our bed-when I get there. Everything in this room is so boring. I wish I brought those art supplies with me. I mean, I wouldn't have known nor would they have let me bring them to the Capitol so that I could draw pretty pictures of Peeta getting tortured, but I still wish I had them. Then maybe, I could practice sketching while I waited for him to get back. During the Victory Tour, I tried a few drawings on my own. They were mediocre at best compared to his, but at least I tried. ~

"Shh." She sighs. "That's terrible. But I don't think it's the end of you two. Over something so small."

"But what if it's chips? Chips that have been one on top of the other? Waiting to split?"

"You're overthinking things. Now stand up, take my hand, and come with me." I follow her instructions with my eyes still closed as we walk into an adjoined room. "Now lay here. This may tickle, but that's about it."

Yeah, the stylists in the Capitol's version of tickle wasn't all too great. I groan.

"It's going to get rid of the scars on your body, so stop." Well, that was a good thing. "It'll clean any imperfections otherwise off of your skin, besides natural things like freckles."

"Do your worst." I laugh. ~

There's a bedside table to my right, so I lean over and open the top drawer. It's just clothing-Peeta's clothing, because mine is all tossed onto the floor-but the second drawer has stuff in it. Mostly pens, pencils, paper, napkins, and somewhat worthless items like that. But I take out a piece of lined paper and one of the sharper pencils and begin drawing.

I'm absolutely terrible, but I think it'll make him laugh. I lean the paper against the table and draw two stick figures of very different heights, clearly implying that it's me and him. It's so bad already but it's the thought that counts, I guess. I draw it so that we're holding hands and I put a giant heart around us. I draw the jackets, too, even though I only have his. At the top of the page, I write: Together, we said. On the back of the paper, I write:

Dear Peeta Bread,

I drew you a picture of us...

I sigh and think hard about continuing that sentence. Maybe the more I say it, the more I'll get used to it.

...on that one special day in the future. The one we talked about earlier today. And I know it's the most hideous drawing you've ever seen and it'll blind you because it's so, so, so bad, but please don't make fun of it. I just hope you'll smile on that day as much as you are in this masterpiece. Because I love you sooooo much.

As long as it's a really, really long time from now, maybe I won't mind. But it still scares me just thinking about it.

You probably can't tell because it's so bad, but this was like us walking when we first found Thirteen because that was the first time I've seen you so happy. You said it yourself. Your You're so happy that on a scale from 1 to 10, you were a 14. That's a lot.

You make me a 20.

We won't be with each other a lot this coming week so I just wanted to make this for you. Love ya, Peeta.

Love, your love

I straighten out the paper because it's bent up a little, but it's still readable. I don't care what anyone says about my artwork. I'm proud of that shit. ~

I'm laying on this thing for a while-it's kind of like a table, but it has an indent for where my body goes. I shout over to Portia, because I know she's not right next to me anymore, "Am I allowed to sleep?"

"Knock yourself out." She calls back. Based on the distance of her voice, I can tell she's back in the other room.

So I allow my thoughts to wander and wade away as I drift into sleep. Of course, I dream about him. Good dreams and bad dreams. Dreams of our future, and dreams of me coming back to the room and him having requested his own. Dreams of a world where nothing but us exist, and dreams where he doesn't exist at all. ~

I put the note down on the pillow just in case he gets back while I'm at lunch, which starts in five minutes. Just before I leave, I take my jacket off the chair and put it on. It's cold around here, anyway.

I just want to see Peeta, though. Apologize for leaving without saying bye, probably. But I'm afraid that seeing him will trigger anxiety inside of me and I'll scare him off. I don't want to leave him again. ~

I wake up when I hear Portia calling my name. "Peeta? Get up, jeez. You can open your eyes."

They flit open, and I squint at the immediate brightness. "Ugh!" I try to sit up, but I ache a little. "Ow... is that normal?"

"Yeah, here," She hold out her hand to me. "Let's go back into the other room. I brought you some lunch."

My face immediately brightens up on the thought of food. "You're my savior!" I laugh as she walks me into the other room, where two trays of lunch wait for the both of us. ~

Lunch was boring without Peeta. After spending every second with him, the day seems to drag on when I'm alone. Of course, I have people to talk to-everybody, really. Even people I've never met before. Saying how they're excited for the rebellion and that Peeta's going to fuck over the Capitol. Actually, it seems that most people here like him.

But people keep trying to talk to me about him, when all I want to do is eat in silence. ~

We eat and talk for a while, though she won't let me look into the mirror. I want to know why, but she says now I can't see myself until I'm done. After a while, a girl comes in and hands me a few sheets of paper with the general idea of the propo that I'm doing tonight. I spend my time reading it, and making sure that I focus on it. I use it to distract myself from my problems with Cato, and fears I've had about it all.

I focus on the rebellion. I focus on being a help in any way I can. Because they need me. And right now, I need them. ~

After I eat, I go back up to the room and see that there's still no Peeta. He hasn't been here once because everything in the room is untouched. Since I have downtime, I take a nap on the empty, unused bed. I have the usual nightmares of me dying without even getting to say goodbye to him, and sometimes the Capitol uses my death against him somehow. He's crying and it hurts me that I can't do anything because I'm dead. But after all of this comes the dream where we're just lying with each other in my bed back at home. Like how it used to be. ~

A few hours go by, and I continue through trials with Portia, and once or twice Cinna even comes in to see how we're doing. It's great distraction, but my mind still wanders to Cato. Often. What he's doing right now. If he's thinking about me, too. Probably not. He's really busy with other things.

"Do you want to see yourself?" Portia says eventually, snapping me out of another daydream. I stand up immediately. I only have the pants I'm going to wear on, so I only get a general idea of the outfit...but Portia was right when she said I wouldn't recognize myself.

In my entire life, I've never seen myself as attractive. But...this. This changes everything.

I mean, from lifting all that time, I knew I was muscled-not necessarily strong, as Cato always insisted-but not like this. My skin was perfect. It was as if the torture hadn't ever happened. I run my hand along my arm. "Is...is this real?"

"That's what you had all along kid."

"There's no way."

"That boy was right," Portia insists. "You're too down on yourself."

I was so distracted by my body that I didn't even realize my hair was back to its first, original shade of blonde. "This...is so weird."

"C'mon. You've got to go. Put this on." ~

I wake up at 5:47, I'm assuming, because the clock says 1747. I think that's how their time works. Either way, I'm late for dinner, but I don't want any. I don't want food when Peeta isn't here. But maybe Peeta's down there waiting for me. He probably is, so I stretch for a couple seconds and speed out the door down to dinner.

When I get there, everyone's midway through their meal, and I look around for Peeta. I think I stand there for about five minutes, checking and rechecking the room for him. But he isn't there. Is he avoiding me because I didn't say goodbye?

Sighing, I turn go back out the door, and I pass by the table with my team sitting down eating. I hear Johanna say, "This is where you eat, you know."

"I'm not really that hungry," I admit. "Have any of you seen Peeta?"

The answers I get are mainly "no"'s and "I don't think so"'s. So I go back up to my room and sit in a chair by the door, staring at the wall. Why wouldn't Peeta come down for dinner? Did he think I'd be there? Is he busy? Is he mad at me for earlier?

Earlier.

I'm marrying Peeta.

Nope, it still hasn't set with me yet. Fuck. ~

I pull the shirt over my head and Portia slips some jacket onto me as I'm rushed down the hall towards another room. Haymitch, Coin, and a few other people I don't really recognize are there. "Uh...hi?"

"Hey Peeta." Haymitch gives a small wave, obviously shocked at how different I look from yesterday.

"Fantastic job, Portia. Really." I think it's the first nice thing I've heard the president say since I've been here. I just stand there awkwardly as she explains what she did, lifting my shirt to show the lack of scars. Then, they begin talking to me again.

"Did you memorize what we sent over?" Coin asks. I nod.

"Told you. He was good like this during the Games." Haymitch comments. "It'll be simple." ~

Soon enough, there's a knock on the door. Did I lock it? I turn around and see that the door isn't locked at all. "Peeta? You can come in, it's just me."

The door opens. "It's not your boy, but I was hoping I can come in anyway." When the door opens a little bit more, Finnick pokes his head in.

"Yeah? Sure."

"Nah, actually, I was just wondering if you wanted to watch the propo," he says, motioning for me to go with him.

"The what?" I stand up and walk over to the door, finally noticing Annie standing behind him.

"Peeta's broadcast. He's taping it live in a few minutes. Come on, you haven't seen him all day."

"Oh...kay." I leave the room, locking the door behind me. "Where are we going?" I'll finally get to see him. Not in person, I'm assuming, but still.

"1219. Same as before." They lead the way down the hallway, with me trailing anxiously behind. ~

It's right before we go on that I start to get nervous. But that's just the way I am. "It's okay if I change one or two words, right? I mean, in case I forget or something." I look to Haymitch. He's seen me like this before.

"Just do what comes naturally. You've got to come off as honest. So be honest. What we gave you was a guideline." He responds, giving me a reassuring pat on the back.

"So, question. How does everyone in Panem actually get to see this?"

"We have Beetee hack the television lines." Coin responds. I see one of the people from our meeting the first day, the older man, at one of the computers behind the glass wall. He waves at me and gives me a smile.

"Woah. So...it's every channel?"

"Yup." Haymitch says.

"Everywhere?"

"Yup."

Oh god. I'm so scared. ~

There's already a large group of people in the room-maybe twenty or thirty. When we walk in, I hear someone shout, "Hey, let the boy up front so he can see!" referring to me, apparently. Then, I get dragged up to the front of the room near the huge television that spans at least half the wall. Right now, it's basically dead air. But any moment now, Peeta will be up on screen and I can finally see him. I miss him. ~

"Sixty seconds!" I hear someone yell. I get into my place in front of the metal wall with the symbol of District Thirteen on it and take a deep breath. But I'm shaking. My heart's pounding.

"Thirty to air!"

Maybe I'm not cut out for this. This was probably just some big mistake. I shouldn't have agreed. I have no idea what I'm doing.

"Fifteen!"

I can't.

"Ten!"

I can't do this.

"Five!"

And just as I'm about to tell them to call it off and run as far away from that room and all of the cameras and people, I see another person come into the control room by Haymitch. They shake hands, and he turns to face me.

It's my father.

"People of Panem." ~

"Oh, shh! It's starting!" I yell excitedly. I have never been more excited to see Peeta on television. Before this, seeing him on the TV was a bad thing. It was always replays of him dying, or news telling the nation that he was alive-now, the nation will know he's alive, and it's a good thing. Now everyone will know how strong he is, my boyfriend. ~

"My name is Peeta Mellark. Tribute to the 74th Annual Hunger Games." I pause. "Tribute. Not Victor. But still I stand here. Alive. To warn you of an oppressive Capitol that you may or may not have felt the effects of. A Capitol with a sick sense of amusement and justice. One that finds joy in killing twenty-three innocent children. Year after year." I take a deep breath and look at my dad quickly before going on. "Forcing families to live in fear. Mourn losses of their own sons and daughters. Watch them get murdered on live television." ~

When I first look at the screen, I stupidly ask, "Who is that? That's not Peeta..." Just as everybody is going to ask what the fuck is going on in my head, I look more closely at the television. "Peeta?!" He doesn't even look like Peeta anymore. Actually, now that I think about it, he looks almost exactly how he did in the Games six months ago. And that's why I didn't recognize him at first; I'm so used to dirty, three-toned-hair Peeta. He doesn't even have any cuts or scars anymore. He looks flawless. That suits his personality. "You go Peeta!" ~

"They say that it's all fair. But how is it fair that one child from the same District at the same age as another can be more likely to die, just because the Capitol doesn't give them enough to eat?!" I think about the kids in the Seam, and how many times their names were in the Reaping. How rare it was that I was picked and not one of them. "Why on earth do we continue to live under this? Because no one has fought against it." I pause again. "Until now. District Thirteen. It was never destroyed by the Capitol." I stare directly into the lens. "The Capitol fears us. Because we've beaten them one too many times for their liking. Well get used to it." ~

"That's so true!" I exclaim.

Someone says, "Shut up!"

I need to see Peeta directly after this. I need to. I want to congratulate him on his face, on his propo, on himself-everything. He's finally going to get the attention he deserves. ~

"So I offer this to the Districts of Panem: join us. Do not take living in this hell any longer!" I begin growing honestly angry at my words. Because it really is how I feel. "Be you from District One or Twelve, acknowledge that we are all one people, divided by the Capitol! Forced to hate each other through their Games! This has gone on long enough. Too many have died. Too many have suffered." I'm shaking, but in a good way. "And to the Capitol; We will be rid of you. You can fight us, trap us, beat us, torture us, and kill us. But we will never, ever live by your rules again. Divided, we are nothing. Together, we can and will destroy you." I take one last deep breath before finishing. "It was your choice, and your fatal mistake to count us out. Now it's your move. Check." And the camera goes out. ~

A/N: Actual badass rebel Peeta Mellark. Yes. Review with thoughts! xx