【饥饿游戏】42
时间：2017-03-21 07:04:41
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（单词翻译）
If I don’t get air soon, I’m going to start to throw
things again. I run down the hall to the door to the roof. It’s
not only unlocked but ajar. Perhaps someone forgot to close it,
but it doesn’t matter. The energy field enclosing the roof prevents
any desperate form of escape. And I’m not looking to escape,
only to fill my lungs with air. I want to see the sky and
the moon on the last night that no one will be hunting me.
The roof is not lit at night, but as soon as my bare feel reach
its tiled surface I see his
silhouette1, black against the lights
that shine endlessly in the Capitol. There’s quite a
commotion2going on down in the streets, music and singing and car horns,
none of which I could hear through the thick glass window
panels in my room. I could slip away now, without him noticing
me; he wouldn’t hear me over the
din3, But the night air’s
so sweet, I can’t bear returning to that
stuffy4 cage of a room.
And what difference does it make? Whether we speak or not?
My feet move soundlessly across the tiles. I’m only yard behind
him when I say, “You should be getting some sleep.” He starts
but doesn’t turn. I can see him give his head a slight shake.
“I didn’t want to miss the party. It’s for us, after all.”
I come up beside him and lean over the edge of the rail. The
wide streets are full of dancing people. I
squint5 to make out
their tiny figures in more detail. “Are they in costumes?”
“Who could tell?” Peeta answers. “With all the crazy clothes
they wear here. Couldn’t sleep, either?”
“Couldn’t turn my mind off,” I say.
“Thinking about your family?” he asks.
“No,” I admit a bit guiltily. “All I can do is wonder about
tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course.” In the light from
below, I can see his face now, the awkward way he holds
his bandaged hands. “I really am sorry about your hands.”
“It doesn’t matter, Katniss,” he says. “I’ve never been a
contender in these Games anyway.”
“That’s no way to be thinking,” I say.
“Why not? It’s true. My best hope is to not disgrace myself
and . . .” He hesitates.
“And what?” I say.
“I don’t know how to say it exactly. Only . . . I want to die as
myself. Does that make any sense?” he asks. I shake my head.
How could he die as anyone but himself? “I don’t want them to
change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that
I’m not.”
I bite my lip feeling inferior. While I’ve been
ruminating6 on
the availability of trees, Peeta has been struggling with how to
maintain his identity. His purity of self. “Do you mean you
won’t kill anyone?” I ask.
“No, when the time comes, I’m sure I’ll kill just like everybody
else. I can’t go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing
I could think of a way to . . . to show the Capitol they don’t
own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games,” says
Peeta. “But you’re not,” I say. “None of us are. That’s how the
Games work.”
“Okay, but within that framework, there’s still you, there’s
still me,” he insists. “Don’t you see?”
“A little. Only . . . no
offense7, but who cares, Peeta?” I say.
“I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this
point?” he asks angrily. He’s locked those blue eyes on mine
now, demanding an answer.
I take a step back. “Care about what Haymitch said. About
staying alive.”
Peeta smiles at me, sad and mocking. “Okay. Thanks for the
tip, sweetheart.”
It’s like a slap in the face. His use of Haymitch’s patronizing
endearment8. “Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your
life planning some noble death in the
arena9, that’s your choice.
I want to spend mine in District Twelve.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me if you do,” says Peeta. “Give my
mother my best when you make it back, will you?”
“Count on it,” I say. Then I turn and leave the roof. I spend
the rest of the night slipping in and out of a
doze10, imagining
the cutting remarks I will make to Peeta Mellark in the
morning. Peeta Mellark. We will see how high and
mighty11 he
is when he's faced with life and death. He'll probably turn into
one of those raging beast tributes, the kind who tries to eat
someone's heart after they've killed them. There was a guy
like that a few years ago from District 6 called Titus. He went
completely
savage12 and the Gamemakers had to have him
stunned13 with electric guns to collect the bodies of the players
he'd killed before he ate them. There are no rules in the arena,
the
avalanche16 that finally took Titus out was specifically
engineered to ensure the victor was not a lunatic.
I don't see Peeta in the morning. Cinna comes to me before
dawn, gives me a simple shift to wear, and guides me to the
roof. My final
dressing17 and preparations will be alone in the
catacombs under the arena itself. A hovercraft appears out of
thin air, just like the one did in the woods the day I saw the
redheaded Avox girl captured, and a ladder drops down. I
place my hands and feet on the lower rungs and instantly it's
as if I'm frozen. Some sort of current glues me to the ladder
while I'm lifted safely inside.(我手脚刚搭上梯子，就觉得
全身像凝住了一样动弹不得，一种电流把我粘在梯子上)
I expect the ladder to release me then, but I'm still stuck
when a woman in a white coat approaches me carrying a
syringe. "This is just your tracker, Katniss. The stiller you
Still? I'm a statue. But that doesn't prevent me from feeling
the sharp stab of pain as the needle inserts the metal tracking
device deep under the skin on the inside of my forearm.
patronizing v. 屈尊俯就（patronize的现在分词）
cannibalism n. 食人；嗜食同类；残忍的行为
avalanche vi. 崩塌
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