All this time I've been holding back my tears and hiding my pain inside so I won't seem weak and lose sponsors. But it's all going to waste. I'm going to die; I'll never make it back to District Two. All those nights in this hell of an arena, more torturous than I could've ever anticipated, doing all I could not to curl up and let out the sobs that were constantly threatening to take over me and turn me to a crying wreck.
Everything I've lost, every moment I've wasted, every mistake I've made, everything I'll never get to do or say. It all rushes through my mind like a bleak-colored whirlwind in that single moment I see the rock coming towards me. I feel it smash against my skull and I fall to the ground. My head explodes with the most horrible pain I've ever felt, and I realize that I'm not yet dead, even though all I want is to be dead. Just one second of this pain and I already wish I had died the moment the rock hit my skull. My head feels as if it's been shattered ten times over, and I know I'll die anyway. I just wish it would happen now.
My head hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It hurts more than any burn I've gotten, more than any broken bones I've had, more than any of the injuries I've gotten in training, more than any of the times I've been hospitalized. It hurts more than all of it put together. Where is that bittersweet blackness that is supposed to save me from this pain? Why is death so evasive in the moments I long for it? Right now, death could only be my safe haven.
I wait for death to come and fly me away from this poisoned world. As I lie waiting, moaning and hoping for the pain to disappear, I realize that I am dying alone. I am dying with no one holding my hand, no one crying by my side. Only the girl I tried to kill and the boy who just did this to me- brought me so close to death and yet left me so far.
Why I ever dreamed that I could win the Hunger Games, I don't know. Why I ever thought I could be happy if I was a victor, I cannot imagine. Why I ever believed there was anything sane about this world I was raised in, I will never understand.
And so I wait.
Suddenly, I feel two large, warm hands clasp one of my small ones. I open my eyes and am instantly blinded. I see spots dancing in front of me, and my head begins to throb, triggering a fresh wave of the incessant pain. I can barely make out a silhouette framed against the painfully blue sky, but I can tell it's Cato.
As my eyes try to focus more, I can see a blurry image of his face. Very blurry. I can vaguely see his mouth moving, but I can't hear any words. He looks desperate, but I don't know what he's trying to tell me.
"Cato," I whisper. He freezes.
"I'm here, Clove," I hear him say. It sounds like it's coming from far away, as if from the heaven I only dream of reaching. I close my eyes for a moment. "No! Clove! Don't leave! Don't leave me," Cato says frantically. I feel a drop of something wet land on my face, and open my eyes again.
"Cato."
"Clove! Stay here, stay with me, just hang on," he says, but I can barely hear. My head is in so much pain that I can barely feel it anymore.
"D-don't cry, Cato," I whisper. "I want to go. I want to leave."
"No! Clove!" I hear him break out into heart-wrenching sobs. I never dreamed he would cry. Never would've believed he could. But here he is, using every last tear he has and tearing my heart apart with the sound of each and every sob.
"Cato," I whisper again. He leans forward and rests his forehead on mine, still crying. My cheeks become wet, stained by his tears as I take my last breaths. "I'm going home, Cato."
And then, the one I've been waiting for claims me. I fly away, safe in Death's arms, to a place where I can no longer be hurt. To a place where I will wait for Cato. Where I will wait forever.