[He can't believe I did it.] [Accepted at The Games]

[medecin]

Well.

You've outdone yourself this time, dear mundane.

Hunger games.

You wish for me to die, and probably painfully and terribly, while being scared out of my wits the entire time. Do you realize that I am still ill? Still ill and you are bringing me directly into such tomorrow. I am going to die. I am going to die from an acute and very painful heart attack or fit or something brought on from all of this even before I have the chance to be killed by another person. Such stress on the heart is not good for me when my cold is fast turning into bronchitis, which will not stop until I have full blown pnuemonia as it is. Even now it's getting harder to breathe at the very thought of what you'll be doing to me.

I cannot handle such excitement though I thank you for thinking of...

That's going to get me nowhere, isn't it?

Well. Let's hope I die messily and quickly before the rest of the terror sets in, shall we?

-Joly