Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare? I say.I don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralysed with terror, he says. You should wake me,I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down. It's not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you, he says. I'm okay once I realize you're here.
To the everlasting credit of the people of District 12, not one person claps. Not even the ones holding betting slips, the ones who are usually beyond caring. Possibly because they know me from the Hob, or knew my father, or have encountered Prim, who no one could help loving. So instead of acknowledging applause, I stand there unmoving while they take part in the boldest form of dissent they can manage. Silence. Which says we do not agree. We do not condone. All of this is wrong.
I begin to fully understand the lengths to which people have gone to protect me. What I mean to the rebels. My on going struggle against the Capitol, which has so often felt like a solitary journey, has not been undertaken alone. I have had thousands upon thousands of people from the districts at my side. I was their Mockingjay long before I accepted the role.