I apologise for the soppy, upset Cato and the weakling Katniss, it just worked best for this story. It's a drabble, just a one-shot about sadness, regret and tragic Catoniss. I'm sure this 'Cato kills Katniss' thing has been tried and washed-out many times, but I'd like to give it my creepy spin. Oh, and the last song verse was made up by yours truly.
Cato's last name means 'powerful' in Greek. At least that's what Google Translate says.
Be sure to read my other Catoniss fic, 'Fire & Ice', where they're both perfectly in character. That one's a longer story and it isn't as eerie as this one-shot. .
DISCLAIMER: Now, if I DID own the Hunger Games, do think I would create Katniss and Cato Sims and make them get married and have lotsa kids? No, I wouldn't. So basically, no, I do NOT own THG!
The final moments on the Cornucopia were fleeting. The skies overhead were soaked to black and only the artificial moon offered a feint light. The mutated tribute-hounds were barking harshly with a vicious anticipation below.
The girl who was on fire, Katniss Everdeen, was defenceless. Her prized bow and arrow set lay on the ground with reckless abandon. Her eyes held a stony insanity and were burning flames pouring into my icy orbs. Her frayed hands at her side, she lost hope of returning to her loved ones.
It was weakness, failure even. Her naked soul was exposed. Her body was anxiously awaiting its demise.
She bled quietly and without complaint. Her metallic eyes were brimming with tears. She blinked them away. "End this, Cato." She whispered, stepping closer to me. My name on her tongue was the most electrifying sound. "You can go home, rejoice with your family. It's my time to go."
I nodded. It was decided, I would kill her in a choke hold.
I looked down, into her eyes, daring to feel something forbidden. That was when I knew I was a goner. Subconsciously, I placed my bloody lips to her neck and sucked slowly.
"Don't." She mumbled. "Just finish me."
With a soft 'snap' and a blood-curdling scream – the latter of which was on Katniss' part entirely –, her head rolled on the Cornucopia, before I kicked it into the pack of hungry mutts. It was gruesome; the animals ripping her brain, biting at her eyeballs and sucking out her blood. I flung away her body as far as I could, repulsed by the sight and smell of her flesh.
There was a canon blast.
The anthem played out next. Claudius Templesmith's voice rang clearly through the arena, "Cheers to our Victor for the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Cato Marx Ischyrós!"
...four years later...
I would hear her screams. They never ceased to send aches to my mind. They were loudest when I was alone. She sobbed in my mind. Her tears held a golden glisten. Her cries grew louder and harsher each day. She was dead. Dead and unhappy.
She didn't go to Heaven with her loverboy; her soul was intertwined with mine from the moment I looked in her eyes. We were both Hell-bound.
There was an incident where I watched my Games with Caesar. He showed me a clip of her angelic voice chirping a peculiar tune to herself after her beloved bread boy died.
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something…
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused
That song was my lullaby every night. I used to picture her singing it to me while wearing a white, gauzy dress with her shining locks curled down and her head stitched to her neck. Her body was a paled gold and her hair looked like a burning ember. Occasionally, her head would roll and she'd sew it together again with cotton and a needle.
When I would touch other women, I would see her next to them, watching me with curious bloodshot eyes. Sometimes, she'd reach out to touch me. I rarely flinched from her non-existent touch.
'End this, Cato.' She would moan, poking fun at her own death wish. 'Just finish me!' I heard her whispered phrases sometimes. They tickled my eyes ever-so slightly.
I never grew fond of her pale appearance stalking me. Every time I gazed upon her, she'd have a new kind of misery dawned on her carefully sculpted face. Her songs grew darker and darker. Eventually, she sang about watching me burn in the deepest inferno of hell. She sang of how her demon-self would punish me when I died.
She tried to kill me once. Her hands wrapped around my neck, creating the sweetest anguish. Her fingers burned into my skin, leaving scars that Capitol scientists couldn't fix.
She was victimized. Or so she said through song. Her voice was no longer sweet and angelic, but beautifully brutal, defined and merciless.
I dreamt of her when she was alive. I dreamt of her glorious flames, how she stood proudly atop her chariot and grinned at the civilians of the Capitol, blowing kisses and catching flowers. I dreamt of how she volunteered for her little sister, Primrose, willing to die for her. I dreamt of her longing eyes staring intently on Glimmer's bow and arrows. I dreamt of the wonderful young woman who mourned sang angelically to a small, dying child, showering her corpse with flowers almost as lovely as the child herself.
That humanitarian of a woman had been distorted in the arena. Her mind scrambled to nothing after she brutally murdered and mutilated her loverboy. He had the worst death imaginable. Her act had been severe enough for her to lose her way to Heaven and follow the road to Hell.
That amazing female was no longer heavenly and innocent, but sinister and vile. Like me.
One night, as I looked out at the stars from the balcony, she appeared. A miniscule golden snake crawled up her torn white gauzy dress and wrapped itself around her left upper arm. There was a frail golden diadem with jewelled mockingjays atop her head.
Follow me into the Fire
Reunite our forbidden souls
The time has come
Untie your earthly bindings
Join me in the Darkness
Bask in our malicious love
For all eternity
'Let me finish you, Cato,' she smiled wryly. 'I've my bow and arrow on my person. Let me repay you for your past deeds.'
Her crown and snake band were slowly lifted from her body. They morphed into an archery set. The snake stretching out, its tongue moulding into an arrowhead; the tiara bending and enlarging into a golden bow. Drawing back the snake-like arrow in the ultimate perfection of an archer's stance and a scowl etched on her mouth, she reminded me of the old Katniss. She reminded me of Katniss Everdeen.
A beautiful ache pained my eye. The pain was blissful enough for me to moan. My soul was leeched out of my humane body.
I felt an unearthly hand grasp me and pull me up. 'We're complete.' Katniss told me, gleeful, golden tears dripping her face.
I kissed her lips for the very first time. They were soft and forgiving. No more would we yearn for the touch we could not feel. She held my hand in her own and led me away from the sorrowful earth.
Fast paced, I know. Should I keep it a one-shot, or transform it into an actual story with actual chapters? Review, please. Feel free to speak your mind. But no flames and constructive criticism. I do not take kindly to either. My most humble apology for the atrocious grammar.
Don't forget to R&R 'Fire & Ice'.