My name. She called my name. My feet seemed stuck on the floor, I couldn't move. This was my dream. To go into these Games. Prove my parents that I'm good enough, like they were always telling me I wasn't. To be proud of something. To be the best.
But now that's everything I don't want. Because he already volunteered. Cato. My Cato. He's going into the Games. With me. Our dreams, turned into a nightmare. I stepped forward, walking to the stage. His jaw is tense, and though he's keeping his smirk, his eyes tell me that he knows it too. That we'll never be together forever. Because forever is impossible now. Our future is gone.
I'm on the stage now, and my hands are shaking. Not with fear. With anger. The one thing in my life that I worked for, spent nearly every waking hour training for, has been turned into something I dread. Something I hate. And now, if I win, I won't be happy. Half of me won't even be alive.
We shook hands, and we were ushered to the visiting rooms. I sat there, waiting for a visitor. Not even my parents came to see me. I sat there, drowning in my own thoughts, the words echoing in my mind. The Games. With Cato. One victor. Two of us.
The door swung open. It was him. I ran to his arms, and he held me, stroked my hair. My head on his chest, our arms around each other, this was how it was supposed to be. This- not our reality.
"Clove," he whispered into my hair.
I looked up, stepped back from him a bit.
"Yeah?" There was no emotion in my voice, it was hollow.
"I- we..." he took a deep breath, ran his hands through his hair. "We can't...we can't do this. Be together. Not now."
"What?" My voice had emotion now. I was desperate. His words had snapped everything into focus, and I understood. He was ending it. Us. Cutting it off before it was too painful.
"I'm so sorry," he sounded desperate too, and he pushed my hair out of my face. "You know we have to do this."
My bottom lip quivered.
"I know," I said, looking down.
He took my chin with one of his hands, and tilted it up. He leaned in, kissing me gently. I knew this was the last one. I knew this wasn't a kiss out of love. It was a goodbye kiss. A kiss letting me know that this doesn't change anything, we'll still love each other. Nothing would change that.
He pulled away, but let our foreheads rest on each other.
"Don't forget," he said, kissing me on the forehead. He turned, and walked out the door.