suzanna-kollinz-acliq-oyunlari-1-hisse-eng

lightning electrify the sky through an opening in the rocks.
Rain drips through several holes in the ceiling, but Peeta has
built a sort of canopy over my head an upper body by wedging
the square of plastic into the rock above me.
“I wonder what brought on this storm? I mean, who’s the
target?” says Peeta.
“Cato and Thresh,” I say without thinking. “Foxface will be
in her den somewhere, and Clove . . . she cut me an then . . .”
My voice trails off.
“I know Clove’s dead. I saw it in the sky last night,” h says.
“Did you kill her?”
“No. Thresh broke her skull with a rock,” I say.
“Lucky he didn’t catch you, too,” says Peeta.
The memory of the feast returns full-force and I feel sick.
“He did. But he let me go.” Then, of course, I have to tell him.
About things I’ve kept to myself because he was too sick to ask
and I wasn’t ready to relive anyway. Like the explosion and
my ear and Rue’s dying and the boy from District 1 and the
bread. All of which leads to what happened with Thresh and
how he was paying off a debt of sorts.
“He let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?”
asks Peeta in disbelief.
“Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had
enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,”
I say.
“And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it.”
“It’s like the bread. How I never seem to get over owing you
for that,” I say.
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