She caught him off guard and he winced, stumbling back.
Her words echoed in his head . . .
"I killed my sister"
"I killed . . ."
- - - - - - - - - -
". . . I killed her," He explained as he held Sharpo in his lap.
"Why?" Po asked, deeply engrossed in the story.
"Because, that's what the Hunger Games are like," his voice was quiet, but stern. "She asked me to kill her, because she knew it was the best choice she had . . . she knew she couldn't kill me."
"Why couldn't you just be friends?"
"Because, there were many evil people watching over us . . . I suspect we both would have died if we resisted."
Po scrunched up his face, trying to understand.
"That's sad . . ." He finally mumbled.
"It is sad," Sharp'i said with a sigh, "But it's important." He was holding that little doll he always had with him, the one with the eyes made of silver.
"I need you to know about this stuff Po . . . when you grow up, when I'm older, we both have to make sure that things change."
Po sat up in his lap and pushed Sharp'i's dark hair out of his face. "You're not old yet silly."
"Sometimes . . . you feel old before you're actually old Po," The young man explained, his eyes tired.
"Well you don't gotta worry cause . . . cause I'm gonna stay with you even when we're both super old!"
Sharp'i gave him a smile, rare in those days. "That sounds wonderful."
- - - - - - - - - -
He snapped out of his memory at Kaza's words. "If I let you go, you'll turn back into a monster . . ."