Голодные игры

           Mymothergivesittohystericalpatientstoknockthemouttostitchupabadwoundorquiettheirmindsorjusttohelpsomeoneinpaingetthroughthenight.Itonlytakesalittle.AvialthissizecouldknockPeetaoutforafullday,butwhatgoodisthat?I’msofuriousI’mabouttothrowHaymitch’slastofferingintothestreamwhenithitsme.Afullday?That’smorethanIneed.

           Imashupahandfulofberriessothetastewon’tbeasnoticeableandaddsomemintleavesforgoodmeasure.ThenIheadbackuptothecave."I’vebroughtyouatreat.Ifoundanewpatchofberriesalittlefartherdownstream."

           Peetaopenshismouthforthefirstbitewithouthesitation.Heswallowsthenfrownsslightly."They’reverysweet."

           "Yes,they’resugarberries.Mymothermakesjamfromthem.Haven’tyoueverhadthembefore?"Isay,pokingthenextspoonfulinhismouth.

           "No,"hesays,almostpuzzled."Buttheytastefamiliar.Sugarberries?"

           "Well,youcan’tgettheminthemarketmuch,theyonlygrowwild,"Isay.Anothermouthfulgoesdown.Justonemoretogo.

           "They’resweetassyrup,"hesays,takingthelastspoonful."Syrup."Hiseyeswidenasherealizesthetruth.Iclampmyhandoverhismouthandnosehard,forcinghimtoswallowinsteadofspit.Hetriestomakehimselfvomitthestuffup,butit’stoolate,he’salreadylosingconsciousness.Evenashefadesaway,IcanseeinhiseyeswhatI’vedoneisunforgivable.

           Isitbackonmyheelsandlookathimwithamixtureofsadnessandsatisfaction