Several sets of arms would embrace me. But in the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too. I reach out for him and say something like his name and he’s there, holding me and patting my back. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay, sweetheart.” He sits me on a length of broken marble pillar and keeps an arm around me while I sob. “I can’t do this anymore,” I say. “I know,” he says. “All I can think of is — what he’s going to do to Peeta — because I’m the Mockingjay!” I get out. “I know.” Haymitch’s arm tightens around me.
