Disclaimer; Another one of my song-fics. Which means, no I don't put a recorded song here, it is based off of a song. This time; Waiting For Superman by Daughtry. This is a distraught Clove after the Hunger Games...I'm sorry if (the if is a bit stretched) it sounds like Johanna. I was thinking about it, but I don't know much about her nor who to pair her with so...Yeah.
Intro
The deaths she saw, the people she killed, the children who cried as they watched, the pained screams that erupted from their mouths, the mangled bodies that haunted her dreams. It was real, wasn't it? She was a monster, a mindless killing machine. It was like a brain wash, because she could never seem to think about anything but. Yet, she continued to do as she was told. Death after death, nightmare after nightmare, it raged on.
But that was a long time ago, at least it felt like it. Now all she could do was remind herself it wasn't her fault. It was theirs. The ones who threw her into sessions, the ones who threw her into a bloodbath, the ones who tore her heart out and left to bleed as they killed her family, her friends, her lover. What they couldn't understand was she was unbreakable, unshakable, unreliable, unimportant, and undefined. They could kill her parents, shed a few tears. They could kill her friends, time to mourn. They could make her kill, only guilt. They could whore her out, only filth. Hell, they could kill her lover and she wouldn't break!
They tested her boundaries, they pushed her to her limits, they repeatedly thrust her into enslavement, yet all it served to do was get rid of another thing they could use against her. She was invincible now after all the things they took from her. They could shame her, they could hurt her body, but her defiance was untouched. Barely dented. That was made her, her. And now all she could hope is that none of her loved ones died in vain. Because slowly, her barriers were coming down.
And, as if someone from above knew, the world finally gave her something to hold onto. It was hard to hold onto such a person, for he was headstrong and ruthless, but they found a way to make it work. He was there in her darkest hours, and she, in turn, was there in his. She didn't know much about his past, and he didn't know much about hers. But when she cried, he held her. And when he broke down screaming in rage at something that was no longer there, she didn't mind if she got beat as long as she knew he loved her. There, it's been said. He loved her, and she loved him. Their darkest hours held rage, pain, tears, and fists. Yet, in the light it was as if heaven has given them their own paradise which no one could reach. It would be a wonder how, despite their love for one another, they still wouldn't cooperate.
They thought about killing one of them off, since they were each others only weakness. But they spared them, as if it was some kind of sick justice. They were broken people, with an unshakable love and a thirst for defiance. Together, they were unstoppable. Together, they were tame.
Darkest Hour - Cato
The world became a blur as my memories came back to haunt me. I could hear Clove's soft voice trying to call me out of it but, even as I tried to reach for her voice to shake me back, I was a lost cause at this point.
Tears. Screams. Blood. Guns. Red.
A younger version of myself stood up as our front door was pounded against. Throwing on a cocky smirk, I opened the door.
'How can I be of service, sir?' My smirk fades as I see who it is, a peacekeeper. The peacekeeper of District Two with his coppery white hair, and those dark black eyes. Oh, but that wasn't the end of it. He had at least four other peacekeepers flanking his left and right. Each no more than three years older than me.
'As order of President Snow,' He starts, and I fight to hide my growing panic, 'Your younger sister, Clea, has been punished to death.'
'Sir, you can't do that! She's done nothing wrong! Perhaps he meant me? I know sometimes-' He cuts me off with a quick smack with the butt of his gun. My head snaps to the side, but I don't dare react. Silencing me, with the flip of his hand, he orders two guards to grab me. As I watch, helplessly, the other two go grab my younger sister from her room. Footsteps leading up the corridor of a house I thought we'd be safe from them. I hear them pound on her room's door, and snippets of their conversation. Then their foots steps as they make their hurried way down the stairs. I can see the panic on her face as she walks silently next to the two peacekeepers. I watch shell shocked as they lead her out of the house, hauling me after them. They set her up standing alone, without a blindfold. The four peacekeepers stand in a semicircle around her. Awaiting his command, I wanted to hurl. This was my fault. My sister was going to die because of me.
'Clea Knight, you are hereby punished by death. The charge is of your brother's noncooperation with the Capital. Nothing personal, I'm sure you're a good kid,' He then turned to me, 'Cato Knight, say goodbye. And a message from our glorious President; Time is ticking down, Cato, you don't want some else to get hurt, do you?'
'No, I don't,' I turn to Clea, tears threatening to spill, 'Close your eyes, Clea. I'm sorry.'
The blast was blinding, bursting my eardrums. The strangled scream that came from my little sister was nothing I could have stopped, I heard it loud and clear. It would forever haunt me, but what scarred me the most was her closed eyes and the blood that pooled around her. Her lifeless body, once full of life. Gone. What could I have done? Anything would have gotten us both killed, and yet...We would have died together. My sadness turned into red. I could have helped her, let her run even if I was left to die. But what did I do? What did I do! I stood here like I couldn't have done a damn thing. One. Damn. Thing. I could have done something, anything, yet I didn't.
As I blink away the red, I find myself pinning Clove against the wall. She has new bruises along her wrists, probably some on her back seeming as the way she keeps shifting to get the wall off of her back. I immediately step away from her, ashamed of myself. I knew she wouldn't hit me, but I kept my head down hoping, wishing, she would. After all, I deserved it. But, she did none of those things. She closed the distance between us, hugging me close to her. And that was all it took for me to break, I wrapped my arms around her, wary of her prominent bruises, and held her as I sobbed. There were no words for a long while. The only sounds were of my ragged breathing, soft sobs, and Clove's silky voice hushing me, wiping away my tears.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Clove took a tentative step back, peering up at me with her large warm brown eyes. I gently moved to push her dark hair from her eyes, a gesture that always calmed me down.
"Clea." Was all I said, and Clove knew. She nodded in understanding, pulling herself closer to hold each other in each others arms. I wasn't sure how long we stood like this, but I...I didn't want to move away.
Paradise
I lay beside Cato on the bed, neither of us wanting to break the quiet moment. His hand rested lazily on my hip, the other I used as a partial pillow. My arm encircled his neck, and the other I had intertwined with the one under my head. Even after the short amount of years we've been together, and the few arguments we've had over trivial things, it was times like these when it was perfect. There weren't any memories, or emotions, that held us locked in a spell. We had love, and that, as cheesy as it may be, was all we needed. I didn't mind us not talking, not learning about each other. We didn't need to, we were both Victors with no one left but each other. And those eyes of his, the deep ocean blue, were in like with mine for we both held the same burning defiance, hope, and pain. I could stare into them without shame, for this was the man I was in love with.
Pulling myself flush to melt into his touch, he rubbed soft entrancing circles on my waist. My head rested on his broad chest, listening to the sound of his melodic heart beat whilst I played with his golden locks. It calmed me, pulling me to the void of sleep. But, I pulled away from the void. Tipping my head back, I felt his lips press against mine in an almost teasing manor as he smiled into our soft kiss. Innocent, that was what this kiss was. Soft, sweet, short. Yet, I was slightly out of breath from even the slightest of touches. When I closed my eyes to obtain my bearings, Cato lifted his hand from my waist to tip my chin up to meet his lips in a more passionate kiss. When he tugged lightly on my hair, did I gasp at the sudden intrusion. His tongue, working his ever charm, made it's way to explore the cavern that was my mouth. When we pulled apart gasping for air, I felt blood rush up to my face. Taking in his disheveled appearance. His messy hair, usually so organized, and rumpled shirt. My shirt stuck to my torso, and I could feel the heat radiating off of him. Our ragged breathing mingling together as we came down from our excitement of the small intimacy. I pull away slightly, resting my head back on his arm as I look up at the ceiling as the rising and falling of my chest slowed. I turn my head to the side and stare back into his pondering gaze.
"I love you." I whisper before curling back into his arms, resting my head back onto his chest. Finally, finally, letting myself get pulled into the void of sleep. But not before I heard Cato whisper those very words back to me, giving the top of my head a small peck. And just like every night I'm with him, I fall into a dreamless, peaceful slumber.
Darkest Hour - Clove
There were moments when I wanted nothing more than to break down and cry, everything they took from me finally taking it's toll. This was one of those times. I thought I would be fine when I was looking through the rubble of my old house, finding things that I wanted or needed to keep for remembrance purposes. The house was burned down by "accident" when I had gotten back from my Victory Tour. I hadn't come back to the house since that time, and I thought, after three years of not coming back, that the wound had healed and I could finally go back. But, oh God, I was wrong. I shouldn't have even tried to walk in. The tears were coming down in streams by the time I reached the main part of the house. My childhood was nice, if rough. My father was a peacekeeper, as many are, and my mother was the one who took care of my brother and I. There were days when my father came home fuming. As if we had done something wrong. He took it out on my brother, because my father would never harm my mother nor I.
I remember the tears when I would beg him to stop, my mother watching from the corner of the room with her face crumpled in pain but she wouldn't dare stop him. My brother, oh my poor big brother, he fled to become a peacekeeper when he turned sixteen. Our family didn't want their children in the Hunger Games, and yet... I couldn't take it when my brother left. I trained, day and night, to ensure my survival in the Games. Of course, it wasn't the games that what got me. It was what happened after them, all that death. I came back to find my house in shambles, my parents bodies charred to crisps, and my brother's body strung up on the ceiling. I hadn't seen him in years, and now suddenly they had found him, killed him, and left his body for me to see.
I remember walking away calmly, fists clenched, and eyes burning holes into anyone I had passed. I remember the strength and will I used to have, now...I seem to break down at the smallest things. This time though, it was because of an old family photo. I was ten at the time, and it was a rare occasion where my father came home elated. He was a wonderful father to us but, more often than not, he was angry. I took the photo in my shaking arms, hugging it close to my chest as I slide down one of the only still intact walls. Sobs racked my body as I stared at the picture. My tears dripped onto the picture, but it didn't obscure the crystal clear image.
"I'm sorry," I sob, touching my each of my family's faces with my fingertip, "I'm so sorry."
I stayed like that for a long while. My body still shook, and sobs still racked my body...But it was calm. In an eerie sense, but I didn't mind it. I had my photo remembrance, and I took for as long as I was there to recount ever memory I remembered of my family. By the time my tears had finally cleared, I noticed footsteps walking through the rubble. A pair of strong arms wrapped around me, carrying me like a child out of the house. I had the photo clutched to my chest as they took me back to my new home. Down the lengthy corridor, up the grey steps, into the dark bedroom. The photo was taken from my grasp as they set me down on the bed. I let out a soft whine when they took the photo, but they hushed me and made a point to put it right next to me.
"Wait," I call out softly as the person starts to leave me alone in the dark, "Don't leave me alone."
He halted in his steps, before walking the remaining distance to the door. My heart dropped at being alone, and I got up and rushed to him. Grabbing his arm, I silently tugged him back. He followed me, probably in pity. As we lay down on the bed, I pulled myself flush to his side. Hoping it would calm my nerves, and it did. For the next three years, the present, and it would continue until the day I lay next to him on my death bed.
Well, um, uh, that happened. I am sorry if you wanted anything to continue in certain situations, like in the Paradise one, but I remain loyal to my T ratings. Feel free to add in your imagination, I just won't write it. Sorry, I truly am. I do hope you enjoyed it though, it had been on my mind for a while.