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

“Yeah, about that,” says Peeta, entwining his fingers in
mine. “Don’t try something like that again.”
“Or what?” I ask.
“Or . . . or . . .” He can’t think of anything good. “Just give me
a minute.”
“What’s the problem?” I say with a grin.
“The problem is we’re both still alive. Which only reinforces
the idea in your mind that you did the right thing,” says
Peeta.
“I did do the right thing,” I say.
“No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand,
and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You
won’t be doing me any favors. All right?”
I’m startled by his intensity but recognize an excellent opportunity
for getting food, so I try to keep up. “Maybe I did it
for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren’t
the only one who . . . who worries about . . . what it would be
like if. . .”
I fumble. I’m not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while
I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and
I realized how much I don’t want him to die. And it’s not about
the sponsors. And it’s not about what will happen back home.
And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not
want to lose the boy with the bread.
“If what, Katniss?” he says softly.
I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this
moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing
food. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s no one’s business but mine.
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