Spoke to Me Chapter 1: Enthralled, a hunger games fanfic

Hey guys,

I have some major crap going on my personal life, but I wanted to take this time to introduce the debut of my new story: Spoke to Me.

I am straying from what I originally thought I was going to do and am now in the process of creating something new, something I hope will blow all my previous works out of the water.

Updates for Spoke to Me will usually be weekly, 2,000-4,000 words long.

This means that Pieces of the Past is out of the updating schedule.

Spoke to Me is going to be another Kato relationship, but this one will be a lot different in many ways. Gale probably won't be the bad guy, and someone you all my have loved in the story Life's Puzzle… just a few hint hints.

STORIES THAT I WILL UPDATE:

-Walk with Me

-Together We Stand

-Stand by Me

-Spoke to Me

STORIES ON HOLD (JUST FOR NOW):

-Pieces of the Past

-At First Sight

So, without further ado, Love to all,

Dedicated

Summary: All Cato Young wants is a normal life, all he wants is a loving family. Can someone who has lost everything help him get through the pain? His life is full of trials and love, and it now centers around one thing, Katniss Everdeen.

. . .

They say she's crazy, the day her family died they say she sealed herself off. She never spoke another word. She's gone now, so lost in herself that even the strongest can't find her in the mess of her own mind. All I know, is from the moment I saw her, she spoke to me.

. . .

"Again" I growl, pushing back against the heavy bag as my trainers fist goes flying at my head. I take a moment to duck before swinging a perfect hook to the beaten down material, the horizontal spit down the middle stretches open the slightest bit more.

"Cato, that's enough for today" Brutus calls from the front desk where he works with one of the newest fighters.

"But-" I groan inwardly as he cuts off my words before they can slide convincingly out of my mouth.

"No buts boy, you've already been here since morning, can't avoid him forever boy" Brutus' gruff voice rings through the almost empty gym.

Darkness washes over me as I think silently of what exactly I will be going home to today.

Ever since I could throw a punch I've been down here from dawn to sun down, I guess as a kid it was just easier to run away from your problems not face them. Brutus gave me a chance to get away from the hell I called my life, I guess old habits just die hard.

Fighting I guess is the one way I can escape, sure it hurts, but what part of my life hasn't?

"Do your homework tonight Cato" Enobaria's smooth voice calls out from the back. Brutus gives a dark chuckle before yelling something about how I never do my work back.

"Sure thing En" I shoot her a charming smile, her only response is an irritated glare in my direction.

The wraps on my hands give way and pull off easily as I slowly pack my bag. I'm stalling, and sooner or later Brutus is going to catch on.

Fighting gives me the excuse to have black eyes, or bruised stomachs; no one questions where the bruises are from. Brutus is the only one that can tell which bruise is from what fight.

I've always had bruises, not just from the constant fighting of boxing, but the fights with my dad too.

When my mom died, everything seemed to slip away from the reality we lived in. I always knew, at least I think, my dad beat my mom. She tried to protect me from everything; I was a mama's boy so to say. When his first play toy died, he moved on to his second, me.

"See you Enobaria" I call out over my shoulder, looking back to see the rare smile she reserves for Brutus and I.

"Be good Cato" she calls back, her smile wavers and then disappears as soon as she thinks I'm not looking.

"Always am" is my only response as I swing my bag over my shoulder, leaving heaven for hell.

When I was little, I had this dream that one day my dad would come home with flowers for my mom, and they would hug like they used to. They would be happy again, my mom would smile, and my dad would laugh without the usual darkness that comes with it.

It was so easy back then to believe that that would really come true, that my dad could really change. You see, you grow up fast when it's the only option left. I guess seeing your mom beat to nothing every night doesn't help much either.

The night she died was the worst night of my life. I can still hear the screams in my head, I can hear her pained cries being mutilated by the beast I have to call dad. Her words were so garbled, and I couldn't help her.

I lost my innocence at the age of six. I was eight when my mother died, his beatings to me started shortly after.

At first they were softer, but as I got better at taking the pain, they became more and more unbearable. It's probably why I chose to train under Brutus, because the pain seems so surreal there. It's like it doesn't really hurt, not like my father's fist does.

The street lights blink and shudder as a van rolls silently by, I can make out their smirks as I walk home for the third time in four days. Dad takes my car when his doesn't work, which is pretty much whenever he's lazy enough not to fix it.

The dark streets play with the shadows in corners, casting their darkness over all who walk them.

Yeah, we live in a bad part of town; if I was anyone else I'm sure I would be terrified. Being a six foot towering beast made of muscle tends to keep people away.

The workout bag slung across my shoulders weighs me down as I turn to face the familiar street. The porch light is on and I can hear the drunken cries of my dad's friends. Another typical night for me.

My fists clench into tiny balls as I walk up the porch steps onto the concrete slab under our door.

The knob gives away easily with the slightest jiggle, I can hear the lock clicking out of the way and I step into the small house they gave mom and dad when they got married.

Trying to sneak past the men, I move quietly to the stairs, trying to escape before one can spot me.

"Boy, you home" comes the gruff still voice of my father. His graying blonde hair sticks up in every direction. Even drunk I'm sure he could take me. It's not often you get a father that won a national title in fighting.

I consider not answering, but think better of it and give him a quiet yes. I learned at a young age that fighting back just gave it to you worse.

There will be a day, I'm sure, when I'll snap, probably even kill him and send him on a trip to hell a few years early. But for now, I hang onto that dream, waiting for the right moment to attack.

"Where have you been all day" he growls, his fist comes into contact with my face when I fail to answer him quick enough.

"At the gym" I respond, narrowing my icy blue orbs to slits.

He gives me a snort before sitting back down.

"What are you still doing here? Go to bed" his voice is menacing, like I'm supposed to know when to go to bed and when not to.

The stairs seem to be miles high as I climb up them silently, only the sound of the partying below slips into my mind.

I sit on my bed, taking off the sweaty workout clothes for my P.J.s. I can shower in the morning.

Sleep encompasses me with gusto as soon as my head hits the thin pillow and once again I fall into a deep sleep, dreaming of the family I will never have.

. . .

I wake with a start, looking around my small room with a sigh. Just another dream.

I'm tempted to lay back down just to see my mother again. Instead I stand lazily, stretching with a small groan. Judging by the throbbing of my right eye, I would say his punch left a nasty bruise.

Walking slowly to the wall, I flip the switch up, momentarily blinded by the light it brings with it. Mornings definitely aren't my cup of tea.

I dread the moment when I have to tall all the teachers I didn't do my homework again, but their used to it by now. I've accepted the fact that a D isn't that bad, it's the disappointment that comes with it that is.

I walk to the window, opening it the slightest bit before pushing back the curtains. The fresh air hits me like a jet plane. The smell of whiskey and booze is swept away by the free carefree air that rushes in from the open window.

That's when I notice the truck in front of the abandoned house next to us. And then as I look closer, I can make out a small girl standing at her window.

She looks like she's my age, her dark brown hair tied up in a braid, and her satin creamy skin gives off an eerie glow.

One look and I'm enthralled.

He said enthralled not in love with by the way, just to save the flames I'm sure to get off of that!

I really hope this gets a good response. It will mostly be in CATO's POV. This will help me with my original where I am currently writing as a male… it's hard to o for me.

I just want to say thank you all, so much for reading this. I hope that you will also take the time to review; they all count and help me get inspired and write quicker.

This was shorter than what I will work with for this story. This chapter is more of a prologue of sorts!

So once again: