I walk toward the dwindling fire, my hand clutching the knife strapped to my side. I see Cato sitting there, the fire painting shades of orange and red onto his tough hard face. I sit down next to him and place my hand on his knee. I know what must be going through his head, it had been running through mine as well. We have no chance. Not with Lover Boy and The Girl on Fire still alive. Cato places his hand on mine, I can feel the rough calluses shaping his palm digging into my skin.
I smile, ever so lightly at the fantasy that we could make it out. That we could be victors, together just like Ceaser said. I hesitantly lean over and lay my head onto Cato's shoulder. He stiffens for a moment, as if he's never felt physical contact, and then he slowly relaxes laying his head atop mine.
"I don't know what we're going to do, Clove.." Cato whispers, his voice raw with emotion. I have never heard him speak like this. His faux bravo is missing and all that's left is a teenage boy. I slide my arm through his and hold him tight. He turns toward me and grasps me into a hug. A hug so tight I can hear his racing heart.
"I'm scared," I whisper, my face is buried in his chest. I can feel the tears welling up. I know we won't be making it out. I know then that this is it. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I feel a tightness in my chest and my family flashes in my mind. My mom holding onto my father, her dark green eyes soft, a trait that only my sister had: soft eyes. My father's hardened exterior, though his arm is draped over mother so delicately, you'd think she was frail. And my sister. Her always present smile and light brown hair cascading over her shoulders. She had just turned twelve. My breath is knocked from me as I realize I'll never see them again. I'll never feel another one of my mother's hugs or see another one of my sister's smiles. I'm never going to see my family again.
Cato holds me as if I'm all that he has, because really, I am. And he is all I have. My tough resolve slips away and I feel raw, vulnerable. I'm not frightening anymore, I'm not maniacal. I'm human. And I'm terrified.
Tears begin streaming down my face. Sobs wrack my body and I let go of days of anger and terror right there in his arms. "I know. I know," Cato repeats. He calms me down. His hands are shaking ever so slightly. He leans away and looks at me, his cheeks wet as well.
"If we don't make it I-" My voice dies. I don't want to say it. I don't want to admit it. I don't want to accept that we are going to die.
"I love you." Cato grasps my cheeks and brushes away what's left of my sobbing fit. He kisses me lightly, as if I am a butterfly. I take hold of his cheeks and kiss him harder, more desperately. I don't want to let go of this moment. I want to lose myself in him, but I know I'll have to come to reality.
Cato pulls away and looks into my eyes. A small smile spreads across his lips and he holds me to him. I finally accept the fact that this may be the last time I feel the warmth of someone else. I accept my fate. I accept what the capital has delivered us to.
The capital delivered us to our deaths. But I am not going to die alone.