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

egging, and finally just whimpering as the mutts work away
at him. After a very short time, I don’t care who he is or what
he’s done, all I want is for his suffering to end.
“Why don’t they just kill him?” I ask Peeta.
“You know why,” he says, and pulls me closer to him.
And I do. No viewer could turn away from the show now.
From the Gamemakers’ point of view, this is the final word in
entertainment.
It goes on and on and on and eventually completely consumes
my mind, blocking out memories and hopes of tomorrow,
erasing everything but the present, which I begin to believe
will never change. There will never be anything but cold
and fear and the agonized sounds of the boy dying in the horn.
Peeta begins to doze off now, and each time he does, I find
myself yelling his name louder and louder because if he goes
and dies on me now, I know I’ll go completely insane. He’s
fighting it, probably more for me than for him, and it’s hard
because unconsciousness would be its own form of escape.
But the adrenaline pumping through my body would never allow
me to follow him, so I can’t let him go. I just can’t.
The only indication of the passage of time lies in the heavens,
the subtle shift of the moon. So Peeta begins pointing it
out to me, insisting I acknowledge its progress and sometimes,
for just a moment I feel a flicker of hope before the agony of
the night engulfs me again.
Finally, I hear him whisper that the sun is rising. I open my
eyes and find the stars fading in the pale light of dawn. I can
see, too, how bloodless Peeta’s face has become. How little
334