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

on camera. When Caesar asks Peeta how his “new leg” is
working out.
“New leg?” I say, and I can’t help reaching out and pulling
up the bottom of Peeta’s pants. “Oh, no,” I whisper, taking in
the metal-and-plastic device that has replaced his flesh.
“No one told you?” asks Caesar gently. I shake my head.
“I haven’t had the chance,” says Peeta with a slight shrug.
“It’s my fault,” I say. “Because I used that tourniquet.”
“Yes, it’s your fault I’m alive,” says Peeta.
“He’s right,” says Caesar. “He’d have bled to death for sure
without it.”
I guess this is true, but I can’t help feeling upset about it to
the extent that I’m afraid I might cry and then I remember
everyone in the country is watching me so I just bury my face
in Peeta’s shirt. It takes them a couple of minutes to coax me
back out because it’s better in the shirt, where no one can see
me, and when I do come out, Caesar backs off questioning me
so I can recover. In fact, he pretty much leaves me alone until
the berries come up.
“Katniss, I know you’ve had a shock, but I’ve got to ask. The
moment when you pulled out those berries. What was going
on in your mind . . . hm?” he says.
I take a long pause before I answer, trying to collect my
thoughts. This is the crucial moment where I either challenged
the Capitol or went so crazy at the idea of losing Peeta that I
can’t be held responsible for my actions. It seems to call for a
big, dramatic speech, but all I get out is one almost inaudible
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