The next day, I go back to the place where the Careers had had their food. Sure enough, they’ve moved on to somewhere else. I try to find some things that may have survived the explosion, knives and such, but there is nothing. Either someone already came, or nothing escaped the explosion.

For a second I think that maybe Katniss was killed by a Career instead of being killed by the explosion. This makes me angry; I would rather have killed her myself than for her to be cut apart by the horrible people from District 2. When I see the blood splatters and dent on the tree, I know it was the impact that killed her.

The blood makes me throw up, and I hope none of the cameras are positioned on me at this point, but I’m sure they are. Surely enough, a silver parachute floats down next to me.

The throwing up seems to have gained me the sympathy vote. This won’t work for long, but just make me seem weak, constantly weeping over Katniss. I decide to take advantage of it while I can and look in the parachute.

It’s a packet of baby wipes and a packet of breath mints. While I’m grateful as I clean myself up, I feel that they are just poking fun at me. Otherwise they would have sent something worthwhile, like water or food.

I wish I could have been there when she died, and done something meaningful I could have hugged her, or sang to her, but instead I threw up on the ground where she died. I feel guilty. I can’t stay here.

I go back into the forest, tucking the mints and wipes into my backpack. I decide not to go back to our clearing; if anyone thinks we went there, they might wait there and attack me at my weakest. I can’t bear an attack at this point.

I climb a tree and find a big branch. I still have Katniss’s sleeping bag, so I could sleep if I wanted. But sleep was dangerous, especially in the day when the bag is bright and obvious. So I just sit. Waiting for something to happen.

Waiting for Katniss to save me. Even waiting for Thresh. Or anyone else.

No one who will ever come.

The last thing I would ever have guessed to rescue me was the Capitol. But it did.

“There has been a rule change. Both tributes form the same district will be declared winner if they are the last two alive.” Just in case we didn’t hear, he repeats it.

Thresh can help me. We can both win. I barely know him, but it can work.

I regain my hope, possibly foolishly, but if I die, I don’t want to die alone.