Dying Loved

This is the last day. There are only 6 of us left: Cato, Loverboy, Firegirl, District 11 boy, District 5 girl and I. The Gamemakers won't drag it out; by the end of the day only 1 can survive. And it will be me. I can win. I am a career tribute, and Cato and I have teamed up since they changed the rules. No one can stop us.

At least that is what I tell myself as I walk to the cornucopia. The only problem left is District 11, and Cato left to take care of him. So no one can be a threat to me. Not when I have a knife in my hand, and two more in my boots. Yes, I will be victorious. My confidence rises with every step I take. In the matter of hours, Cato and I will be the victors of the 74th Hunger Games.

I pause in the trees outside the cornucopia, watching. Every tribute will be here, so I will not be the first to run. As fast as lightning, Arrow from District 5 runs out and grabs her bag. Her advance took me by surprise, so I didn't have the presence of mind to throw a knife. I will go after the next person. I want to kill.

Stupid Firegirl runs and snags her bag. But this time I am ready. I run after her on feather light feet and push her down. We wrestle and struggle for a few minutes. I end up on top, knife at the ready. I hate her. She has been getting all the attention because of her stupid costumes, and I have skill. She has been getting attention for being in love, while I have secretly loved Cato for years. She killed Glimmer, my ally. I would've killed her anyways, but I wanted to do it on my own terms. I hate this girl, and I want her pain.

I lightly caress her face with the tip of my knife. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to give her the shivers. "Any last words Firegirl? I'm so sorry you won't win, but I'm better. I will kill you, and then kill Loverboy. And as he dies, I will tell him of how you begged for mercy. Want to blow him one last kiss?" I cackle with delight and triumph.

Her eyes lock mine. I can tell she has decided she will not scream. She spits blood in my face. Oh my, now I really have to do this slowly. She will get the most agonizing pain imaginable. "Too bad he's not save you. Last time I saw him; he was dying and stung by tracker jackets. He can't be better. He'll die just like we killed your little friend-"

Torture. I am gasping for air, but I cannot breathe. I am suffocating, my worst nightmare. As a child I would wake up in the mild of the night, afraid that my pillow was smothering me. "Did you kill that little girl? Did you?" I hear the wrathful thunder of District 11's voice.

"No," I croak out as loud as I can, "It wasn't me, it was Marvel."

His eyes narrow. Shapes swirl in front of my eyes. Colors cloud my vision. His grip is getting tighter. He is not letting me go. "Cato, Cato!" I cry out.

I hear him faintly calling my name. District 11 breathes heavily in anger, like a bull. "I don't believe you," 11 says.

I yell. Mentally I picture my ridiculous Capitol mentor who reaped me sighing. If I should die, I should give District 2 and her honor. Screw that. I am the one dying for their entertainment. Panem doesn't care for me, and I feel bile rising in my throat. My life is my own to live- except they have taken it away from me. I hate the world.

I hear the voice of my only hope, far away. Cato is calling my name, but he won't be here in time. Damn it. Damn it to hell.

I fly through the air like a bird. A graceless, flightless bird with no feathers. The cornucopia is hard and unforgiving. I cannot move or talk, only listen. My attacker calls out, "Were you friends with her? The little girl?"

"Yes, I held her hand and sang to her as she died. Rue was my ally," she replies.

Hopefully Firegirl will die. He should kill her like he has almost killed me. Revenge. A word almost as sweet as victory. But not quite. Still, for us Careers it's I don't carry if I die, as long as I take you with me. Die Firegirl. I want you to pay. You will not live.

A pause fills the air. A silence where the choice of live or death must be enthralling everyone back home. "Just this once 12," he threatens, "Don't expect any favors."

No. This can't be happening. I hear and see him walking away, taking District 2's pack in addition to his own. No. Curse you. Die a long, dishonorable death. He has caused my death, and shows Firegirl mercy. Unthinkable. The odds are not in my favor. They never were.

I realize now the impossibility of winning. I'm just a smallish girl who is good with knives. I know I am superior to almost everyone, but in the end it doesn't matter. It's fate, chance. Just like Glimmer and the tracker jackets. She had a chance, but a small mishap killed her. I could've taken down anyone but Cato or maybe 11. But it's not laid out. There are variables and unforeseen problems. You can't plan for the spontaneity of the Games. You cannot turn your back for a minute; let your guard down. I failed; I deserve death.

That is what the Career side of me says. The part that has trained for their entire life. The robot, the Capitol's puppet. But the human in me, buried deep down under layers of hurt, longing, pain, and training emerges. No one deserves to die like this, unloved. Like I am.

A voice interrupts my train of thought. "Clove, stay with me. We can win," a slightly choked voice demands of me.

"Cato?" I say groggily.

It's disconcerting how fast I'm losing life. I'm holding on by a thread. "Don't leave me. We can win and go back to District 2. You'll see your family, and be rich. Imagine never being hungry. Come on Clove," Cato whispers as he holds my hand.

"I'm not making it," I say weakly, "I'm dying. You have to win. Do it for me."

His blue eyes have an unexpected urgency. Cato is usually cool and collected, not emotional. "I'm not losing my best friend. I'm not going home alone. I can't lose you now, not when I…" Cato trails off.

His words paint a picture in my mind. We should go home victorious. Together. I should hold Elsen in my arms. How will my brother get along without me? "I'm sorry. But I'm afraid Cato. No one deserves to die unloved," I plea weakly.

Cato replies with a ferocity and passion that surprises me. "Clove Permin, you will not die unloved. I love you. Ever since the first day I saw you, I've loved you, I love you now and I'll love you forever. I love your cocky smile, your taunts and boasts, the swagger you have, the way you throw your knives, the glint of your teeth in the sunset. I love your brutality, the way you steal my blood mouthwash, your menace, your skill, and the way you dance. I would marry you if I could, Clove. I would make you mine."

Wow. Cato just confessed his heart to me. And the sad part is I love him just as much. What a weakness. But there are no such things as weaknesses for dead girls. Only death and memoires. I want this. I want to be a girl, not a machine whose life is dictated. "I love you Cato. I love you more. I want you. I wish I could've had you. Win for me. Kill 11. Kill 12 slowly. But win. Please," I beg.

"I will. I promise," he agrees.

He begs me to hold on. I answer, but the words don't flow. My eyes are closed. I cannot see his face. I am vaguely aware of his lips on my still ones. Whatever I have been or done, I have achieved one thing: I have died loved.