Chapter One
The blood trickled down my nose, I kept trying to clean it away but it just kept coming. The pain pulsing through my whole body.
Fear.
The feeling consumed me. So hard and so real.
"Look at you" He slurred, "You are weak Clover. You are nothing Clover. You make me sick Clover"
This time his fists hit harder. Over and over again at my temple. His fists as hard as rocks.
He stands over me. The darkness filling his eyes, nothingness. Hatred.
I am weak. I am nothing.
My eyes snap open. Taking in a deep breath I sit up. I quickly feel around my thigh for my knife, securing it in my sweaty hands. No Clove its fine, you're fine, you're safe.
These nightmares haunt me every night, the memory I keep so fresh in my mind as if it wasn't there that I wouldn't be me.
It was 10 years ago. I was just 6 at the time. My mother had left my father just days before. He was violent and he beat her, he cheated and he drank. He was scum of the earth, yet she left me with him.
That day I turned into his personal punching bag. The pain I felt was so real and so haunting that I knew I couldn't take it like my mother did for so long.
But I couldn't run, I couldn't hide. He would always be there.
So that was the day I decided to train for the Hunger Games.
I would learn to fight. To defend myself. Learn how to kill. To make my own escape.
I trained all day, returned home to be beaten up some more. But I never complained. All the hatred I feel and my own self destruction bottled up into my training. It was the only way. The only way to get away from it. From him.
The monster that created me. Me.
Clover Denpes, the manic, the crazy, the psychotic, the insane, the vicious, the deadly.
I will win these games, and escape him. Lead my own life, everyone will fear me. Like I fear my father.
Today is the day though, the 74th Hunger Games start today, and in a matter of hours I will be killing and fighting in an arena I was made for. The only thing I have been able to do as myself.
I'm not nervous, I am ready.
Ready.
It was my turn to fight, to bring honour to District 2. To show the Capitol a real game, how sick and twisted one person can really be.
I have spent the last 10 years training for these games. Nothing and no one will stop me from winning. Not even my district partner.
Cato Evans. The one and the only. He has been District 2's golden boy since the day he was brought into this world. He's tall and rugged, built like a brick. His golden blond hair and electric blue eyes would send any girl into a state of squeals and smiles. Something I have never done.
I have never really spoken to him, or considered him in that way anyway, but that doesn't mean I don't know who he is, or that he doesn't knows me. I have known him my whole life, seen him training on the other side of the centre, and watched him walking home with the trail of girls leading off behind him.
For the past 10 years we have always been in the same classes-despite him being 2 year older- over looking each other's performances without really knowing it, but the two of us have never acknowledge the others presence. Not a smile or a simple 'hello', we simply stood next to each other- him with his sword, myself with my knives- and though it pains me to say, I have always liked it that way.
Streams of sunlight trickle in through the windows; I pull myself out of bed and make my way into the showers. The hot water cascading over my body and dark hair.
I treasure this shower, as it will probably be the only 'real' wash I am going to have until I get out of the arena. Sensing that I am done, the shower stops and I grab a towel to pat down my body. I stand infront of a large mirror looking at the reflection of my bare body. Ever since I became a 'teenager' I have always been smaller than the other girls, and maybe most people see it as a weakness but to me it allows me in places the more bulky people can never go.
I don't not like my figure; it is practical but by no means spectacular. I am short, probably around 5 4" with slightly tanned milky skin. I am slimmer than most people and I have a slightly dignified waist. My hair is dark and flows over my shoulders and down my back like a silhouette, matching my eyes.
For me my eyes are my best feature. Black like my soul, deadly like my personality. The warn people not to bother me. But most of all, they are full of bloodlust making anyone who looks into for long enough see the death in them.
I pull on the training gear that has been provided for the past few days and make my way to the dining area. It is early, so I don't expect anyone to be there but as I walk down the primed hallways I hear the slight murmur from the sitting area.
I pull the door slightly open, poking my head around it in curiosity.
But the room is empty, the sound coming from the re-runs of our interviews. I suspect one of our mentors left it on by mistake last night. I huff, as if expecting something more intriguing.
A cough from behind startles me, and I turn around all too quickly hitting my head on the door ledge.
"Shit" I breathe heavily.
"Larnel always told you, that your curiosity will be the death of you" Cato says.
I look up to see him resting against the wall, smirking.
"And how would you know that, Evans" I say sharply, hoping he didn't notice me jump.
"Why so touchy, Clover" Oh great, he did see.
Balling my fists at my sides I walk past him, deciding to be the bigger person.
"Don't act like I'm not here now, we're district partners" he says grabbing my wrists and pushing me against the wall.
I glare into his eyes, and he looks back. We stand there for a moment before I speak up.
"Just because we come from the same district doesn't mean I like you"
He smirks and lets me go, leaning in to my ear.
"Just because I have known you my whole life" He pauses, lowering his voice "doesn't mean I like you, Clove".
And he walks away, leaving me contemplating what he has just said.