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ctly medical protocol； but Iˇm terrified that if he drifts off heˇll never wake again。
¨Are you cold？〃 he asks。 He unzips his jacket and I press against him as he fastens it around me。 Itˇs a bit warmer； sharing our body heat inside my double layer of jackets； but the night is young。 The temperature will continue to drop。
Even now I can feel the Cornucopia； which burned so when I first climbed it； slowly turning to ice。
¨Cato may win this thing yet；〃 I whisper to Peeta。
¨Donˇt you believe it；〃 he says； pulling up my hood； but heˇs shaking harder than I am。
The next hours are the worst in my life； which if you think about it； is saying something。 The cold would be torture enough； but the real nightmare is listening to Cato； moaning； begging； and finally just whimpering as the mutts work away at him。 After a very short time； I donˇt care who he is or what heˇs done； all I want is for his suffering to end。
¨Why donˇt they just kill him？〃 I ask Peeta。
¨You know why；〃 he says； and pulls me closer to him。
And I do。 No viewer could turn away from the show now。 From the Gamemakersˇ point of view； this is the final word in entertainment。
It goes on and on and on and eventually pletely consumes my mind； blocking out memories and hopes of tomorrow； erasing everything but the present； which I begin to believe will never change。 There will never be anything but cold and fear and the agonized sounds of the boy dying in the horn。
Peeta begins to doze off now； and each time he does； I find myself yelling his name louder and louder because if he goes and dies on me now； I know Iˇll go pletely insane。 Heˇs fighting it； probably more for me than for him； and itˇs hard because unconsciousness would be its own form of esc
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