I was studying, I got bored, went on my laptop and wrote this. I would be extremely surprised if this wasn't done before, but I promise that this is my own work. So without further ado…read the damn fanfic

I'm too proud to ever admit it, but when the announcement came that two tributes from the same district could win I almost jumped for joy.

It was all her fault of course. I'm not exactly sure when and how, but one way or another that sadistic, murderous little girl – no. woman - managed to worm her way into my as yet untouched heart. But now we will never be able to have the future we could – no should – have had. Thanks to him, thanks to that bastard from that stupid, insignificant agriculture district. But who was I kidding? Her death was all my fault.

All mine.

I should never have let her go alone. Never. But she begged so hard to kill that irrelevant chit of a girl from district 12, I just couldn't say know. She wanted so desperately to give the Capitol and her family a show, just like she had been trained to do.

It was a good plan, she would take out 12, while I stayed back and killed that 11 brute. But I misjudged the situation, grew cocky. Everyone always told me to be careful, not to get too arrogant, but I did, and she died because of it.

It was all my fault.

I should have followed her closer; if I had I could have taken out the bastard before he ever reached my Clove.

I should have run faster. Smashed the district 11 bastards head in before he could hurt her, but for once my bulk was a disadvantage, it slowed me down.

But what does all that matter now? What's done is done, and now the only person I have ever really cared about is dying in my arms.

It was all my fault.

I throw my spear aside and beg her to stay with me. She's not bleeding, she can't be that hurt, I think to myself, but deep down I know, it's over.

"Please." I say softly as a single tear drips from my eye, down my nose and onto her beautiful, broken face.

Her eyes flutter open for a few seconds, as her lips curve ever so slightly upwards into the ghost of her signature smirk, and for a single, solitary moment I have hope. But then the cannon sounds and I know that it is all over. That trace of a smile is still frozen on her blood-red lips.

Slowly, I pick up the weapons I had discarded before her and silently I vow that there will be no more tears. Not from her, not from me, not from anyone but our enemies as they beg for a quick, merciful death they shall not receive.

For the first time in my life, I don't care about winning these damned games; even living has lost its luster. All there is now is the boy from 11.

Forcefully, I pry my darling's fingers from the one thing, apart from myself, that she has ever really cared about; her glistening silver knives. That fire girl's scarlet blood is still on one of their edges. I wipe it off quickly, determined that only the blood of Clove's murderer will grace these murderous blades. I grip its hilt tightly in my calloused hand and I vow that his death will be slow and painful. A killing worthy of my Clove.

Even as I fall from the cornucopia and the mutts attack me, all I can think is how good district 11's death was. Judging by his face and the strangled cries of pain he was too stubborn to let pass his lips it was painful without a doubt, definitely worthy of Clove's superlative skills. I know I made her proud.

Even as the arrow from 12's bow embeds itself in my skull all I can think about is my Clove's eyes; lit with the promise of victory.

Don't worry my love, I'll be with you soon.

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