He sits and thinks. He contemplates taking his life. It just didn't work without her. Nothing worked if she wasn't alive by his side, alert and ready to kill, all of her knives sharpened and as dangerous as ever. It was just hopeless without her. They were partners.
On a normal day, if she had died, he would go to her house and see her family. Because they were the closest thing to her. Her life. Her ideas. But today wasn't normal, or even relatively close to normal. There were only 5 left in the Games. He sat by her dead body, stroking her long brown hair. He was gonna go out and kill that kid. Eleven. Ughh.
He kisses her head and slowly gets up. He grabs his three best spears and sets off into the woods.
BOOM.
There's the cannon. He comes to the conclusion that it's either Eleven or Five. It was down to four. Whichever one wasn't dead was the one that would be dead, killed by him. One last kill before he'd charge out and get Lover Boy and Firegirl. Then he'd go home for her. With a shaky voice, he says, "C-Clove, I'm doing this f-for you. I'll win it for you."
He sniffs the air and smells smoke. He runs deeper into the woods and spots a fire. And Eleven. How obvious, he thinks. He pulls the spear from his belt loop. He doesn't worry about aim. He lets the spear go, finger by finger. Whoosh, goes the spear.
He smiles, seeing that the spear has hit his target. He pulls the spear out of his neck and stabs him again. And again. And again. And again. For every little thing he can think about Clove, he'll stab Eleven. It certainly makes him feel better. After what seemed like a million stabs, he gets up, and walks away.
He walks out to the Cornucopia and goes inside. Back to her lifeless body. "I've got him. I've got him," he says, and he couldn't feel better.