Who Am I (If Not Myself)? - Hunger Games

Who am I (If Not Myself)?

We are pronounced dead.

Certainly, it's definitely better than having the Capitol in pursuit of us. But I just keep thinking about how this same broadcast will be playing in 13. Where my mother and Prim, Hazelle and the kids, Annie, Haymitch and a whole lot of people from 13 who think that they have just seen us die.

We watch as they play the footage over and over. Revel in their victory, especially over me. Break away to do a montage of the Mockingjay's rise to rebel power - I think they've had this part prepared for a while because it seems pretty polished - and then go live so a couple of reporters can discuss my well-deserved violent end. Later, they promise, Snow will make an official statement. The screen fades to a black glow.

The rebels back at 13 make no attempt to break in during the broadcast, which leads me to believe they think it's true. If I'm right, then we're already on our own. Our only back-up, our reinforcements, are now gone. It's a point for Snow, this round.

"So," asks Gale, breaking the silence that followed the broadcast. "Now that we're dead, what's our next move?"

"Isn't it obvious?" No one had even noticed that Peeta had regained consciousness.

There's no point in trying to guess how long he's been awake for. The look of misery on his face tells me that it's long enough to have seen what happened on the street. Long enough to have seen how he went mad and tried to bash my head in, then hurled Mitchell into the tar pod. He pushes himself into a sitting position with what is clearly a great deal of pain.

His words are directed towards Gale. "Our next move..." His voice holds emotion I can hardly stand to listen to. "is to kill me."

That makes two requests for Peeta's death in less than an hour.

Maybe I should say something, but I don't. As much as I hate to admit it, even to myself, he's scaring me. Jackson is the first to respond, not missing the same horrified beat as the rest of us.

"Don't be ridiculous," she says.

Peeta looks from Gale to Jackson, and for an agonising second, his eyes flit over mine. There is the stirrings of the ever-increasingly familiar madness in them, and he's shouting already.

"I just murdered a member of our squad! Murdered!" I see his hands strain against the handcuffs he's refused to let anyone near.

"You didn't murder anyone," Finnick insists. "You couldn't have known that he would trigger the pod in that exact spot. You just pushed him off you." He is clearly trying to calm Peeta, to contain him, which only seems to anger him more.

"Who cares? Who fucking cares?!" I've never heard him swear before. "He's dead, isn't he?" Tears begin to rapidly leak from his eyes. I can't tell if they are angry or sad. "I didn't know. I've never seen myself like that before. Katniss is right. I'm the monster. I'm the mutt. I'm the one Snow has turned into a weapon."

Though the look I catch on Gale's face tells me that I probably should,  I still don't say anything. What could I possibly say? Everyone else seems to be feeling the same, because for a moment nobody speaks. Finnick is the one to break the silence. 

"It's not your fault, Peeta."

Unlike us, Peeta is quick to respond. I don't like how easily he makes his points.