I know
Nothing ever keeps you safe for sure
No one ever dug down so far
We go
Where heroes dropped their bones outside
No one ever knew I made it
No one ever
-Bury Us Alive, Starfucker

Maybe everything would have been better if I had gone into the Games instead of Katniss, she often tells herself. Why, oh why, did she volunteer?

Dainty Primrose Everdeen buries her head in her knees. Soft light reflects off the somewhat- tangled golden-blond tresses that tumble in slight waves over her trembling shoulders. Her willowy figure is curled over, like paper that has just dried after being left in the rain: light and fragile, picked up and dropped one too many times.

Katniss did everything in her radiant power to keep her little sister safe from the torture and nightmares and injustice. In the end, though, there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that she could have done. No one is ever safe. Sure, she didn't take any tesserae, she didn't hunt illegally, and she definitely didn't defy the Capitol or try to start an uprising. But sometimes the innocent children are the ones in the most danger.

Swoosh. She lands on the floor across him, using her hands to support her, a smirk stamped on her pretty face. When she stands, the silver knife in her left hand brushes against her leg, drawing the tiniest amount of blood. She's a vicious one, they say. Rumour has it, she keeps a knife in her boot and spears in her malevolent hazel eyes that sparkle at the sight of weapons and blood. Her safety is insured; nobody would dare harm Clove Sharster, daughter of District Two's head Peacekeeper, who also happens to be one of Snow's most trusted men. Besides, anyone with sense would take advantage of her superb aptitude. With skills like those, she could take down an entire arena.

As she struts over to Cato, head high, everyone else in the room takes note of the elegance in her easy stride, and the way her usually-loathsome gaze is now affectionate as she keeps her eyes locked onto Cato's. Yet they still fear her.

Bright lights flash before her eyes. All her greatest memories, her successes, her glory days, shimmer behind her tightly shut eyelids, exploding in bursts of resplendent colour. Shards of shattered memories scatter into complete darkness. Her brother's voice rings blatantly in her ears; she sees him tilt his head back and laugh, dark hair falling into his golden-brown eyes. And Clove laughs along with him, raising a knife. Her brother applauds as the knife embeds itself in the patched-up wall. And then she watches her sister glancing over her shoulder at Clove, flashing her a mischievous grin.

Best of all is when the memory of her sister dissolves and she sees a sixteen-year-old Cato leaning in to kiss her for the first time. All the dizzying emotions rush back, and she feels her head begin to spin at the recollection of his lips on hers, her back against the wall, his corpulent body crushing her wiry one. She can still feel his hands on her cool skin. Never will she forget forcing herself to look timidly into his bright blue eyes and becoming totally overwhelmed when she saw the softness and admiration in his gaze. Not just that - she saw... love. Pure love. His voice, quiet but firm, echoes in her mind: "I swear that I will protect you, no matter what. I'll keep you safe, Clove." Looking back, a numb realization washes over her: He never said he loved her. Not once, in all the years they knew each other.

Her eyes flutter open. The world around her is a blurry rainbow of colours, and everything seems to tilt sideways. Through half-shut eyes she sees Cato sprinting frantically towards her. It's too late, she wants to tell him. I was never safe, not really. No amount of training could prepare me for... this. Death. Not Cato, not my father, not Vayze and Fenter. For once, she is utterly alone.

Cato kneels down beside her, but for a fraction of a moment, all she can see is bones and blood before he once again appears before them. She wants to scream, to throw her arms around the one person that truly loves her. But she can't; her arms are frozen, and her chest feels as if it is being weighed down by a boulder. Her only option is to let her eyes rome around and take in the stench of her once-favourite scent. Scarlet veils the battlefield. Bones are piled around the Cornucopia, the leftovers of all the past tributes. And each one of them was far more paramount than Clove would ever be / could have ever been. She was never truly bold. Looks can be deceiving, they say. She thought she had it all...

"I love you, my fallen hero," Cato whispers. Clove cannot bring herself to look into his eyes. Instead, she fixes her gaze on the bloody, scraped bones, some of which have teeth marks in them or have been severed. Several even have the faces of people she once loved.

A single tear slips from her eye and trickles down her cheek. Cato gently turns Clove's face towards his and places the softest of kisses on her lips. His face remains close to hers, and his hot breath lingers on her skin. She shuts her eyes again as he takes her frigid hand in his and slings his arm around her.

"I'll love you forever and ever. I'll see you soon, okay?"

Listen to those broken heroes.

The crap? Where did this come from? I honestly have no idea what... I don't even know. All I know is that I'm addicted to this song. (: