Cato was bred for the slaughter.

It was common among District 2 families to raise your child to win the Games. Cato's parents were ruthless in this respect. Many determined parents would simply urge their child to train harder and prove their worth, but Cato was not so lucky. Whenever Cato performed poorly in training his mother would tell him that she knew that he was weak, and that at birth she should have killed him off quickly.

Their relationship was tense, to say the least.

He trained hard to avoid her rejection. He was a little kid who wanted his mother's love. If the only way to get that was through throwing a spear thousands of times a day, he'd do it. He craved her elusive attention.

She became harder and harder to please. He could spear the heart of a dummy dead on a hundred times in a row and she wouldn't blink. He could beat someone twice his age in hand-to-hand combat in under a minute. His swordsmanship was impeccable. But what did Diana Casca care? She was named for the goddess of the hunt. She had won her Games at age eighteen without breaking a sweat. It was rumored that she never shed a tear after the death of her husband, Augustus.

He grew bitter.

"Did you do it for love?"

"Are you crazy?" I laughed. "I did it because I can win."

"I've seen you with that Clove girl. Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying," I said coldly.

"She'll kill you if you blink."

"I'll kill her first!"

She got up to leave. I watched her open the door. The peacekeepers on the other side jumped and whirled around, as if they were expecting me, a volunteer, to try and get out of going to the Games. When they realized it was her they relaxed, as though scared. That was Diana for you.

She turned.

"You should never act out of love. Look where it got me."

The door slammed.

Clove wasn't ugly. She was nearly a foot shorter than Cato, with dark brown hair. She was strong in both body and mind. She wasn't stunning like the girl from District 1, but she had a simple, natural beauty about her. Cato liked that.

Yet every moment he spent near her was tainted with his mother's words. You should never act out of love. Look where it got me.

"I can kill her when I need to," he promised aloud.

He trained harder than ever. The other tributes were afraid of him. The Careers idolized him. He had everyone in the palm of his hand, which was right where he needed them.

The Capitol saw him as the perfect Career. He was Victor material. He wasn't some soft baker boy like that Peeta Mellark. They liked him because he was in love with that stupid "girl on fire." The women of the Capitol loved Cato because he was strong and attractive and independent. He'd have so many sponsors that his mentor wouldn't know what to send him first.

As the Games drew nearer his hands began to itch with anticipation. His training was bubbling up under his skin. His mother's last words to him echoed through his skull.

He had to prove to her that he could do it.

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"Why hasn't the canon gone off?" Glimmer asked.

"Yeah," Peeta said.

"Shut up, Twelve," I growled, brandishing my sword and pointing it at the famous star-crossed lover.

Clove laughed. "Calm your hormones, Cato."

I lowered my sword slowly, still glaring at Peeta. "Go finish her."

He paled.

"You heard me. Go finish her."

"She's your kill."

"Scared, lover boy?"

He raised his eyebrows and held out a hand. I slapped my sword into it, enjoying his wince as the hilt dug into his palm. He gripped it and headed back towards the girl that I had failed to kill. I could hear my mother scoffing back home and turning away from the screen. I had to rectify it. I had to bring her attention back to me.

"We should kill him," I said suddenly.

"We can't. Not yet," Clove reminded me.

"Who cares about his stupid girlfriend? We don't need him to find her."

"He's our best chance."

"How so? The Gamemakers will bring her to us eventually."

Clove just shook her head. Glimmer shrugged. I sighed.

Diana wouldn't be pleased.

The longer that the Games went on, the more restless he became. He analyzed his every move from his mother's point of view, and nothing lived up to her expectations. He grew more and more angry with her, his blood boiling with a craving for revenge. He needed to win. He needed to prove that he was worth a damn.

And if then she still didn't love him, he'd have to kill her. After all, it was how she had raised him.

"Cato! CATO!"

"Clove! Stay with me, Clove!" I knelt down beside her. Her head was cracked, and blood was pooling on the grass beneath her head. "Clove. Please!"

You should never act out of love. Look where it got me.

Suddenly aware, I knew I had to move. They'd kill me if I stayed. I whirled around to see that Eleven and Twelve were both gone.

And so was my damn pack.

You should never act out of love.

"Look where it got me."

"What are you going to do, Twelve?"

I was shaking. Peeta's neck was between my arms. I squeezed harder as he continued to choke. I enjoyed Katniss' panic, her uncertainty. I was so close. So close. I had shed blood in Diana's name. The revenge I sought for my lack of a childhood would be complete in just two kills. I could do it.

"My mother raised me to kill. She still doesn't see worth in me. I have to win."

Katniss narrowed her eyebrows. "So you can be another pea-brained brute in a lap dog District? You don't have to win. There are thousands of teenagers like you that want to win the Games to bring honor to their family. It won't matter if you die."

"I have to win."

I have to win.

I didn't win.

Rumor is that my mother cried for days.