A/N: Hi guys! This was just something I've been working on for a while, and now that I've finally finished it, I'd appreciate any feedback. It's my first time writing a Hunger Games fanfic, and I hope you like it. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: None of the characters or places below are mine. They belong to Suzanne Collins. The lyrics are from the song Wait For You by Elliot Yamin.
So baby I will wait for you
Cause I don't know what else I can do
Don't tell me I ran out of time
If it takes the rest of my life
Baby I will wait for you
If you think I'm fine it just ain't true
I really need you in my life
No matter what I have to do I'll wait for you
"Is it time yet?" Cato asks again, making sure to keep his voice low.
I sigh and roll my eyes. "Not yet," I whisper back. "But it should be very soon. The sun is about to rise." I gaze out upon the golden Cornucopia. Empty. There is nothing else for us to do but wait.
I rub my freezing hands together impatiently. Well, dawn is almost here, but there is still no sign of life. Furthermore, it is cold to the point where I can see my breath rising in small white puffs in the frigid air. We have been camping out in the forest near the Cornucopia ever since Claudius Templesmith made his announcement about the feast last night, but so far, we haven't seen any of the other tributes.
According to Claudius Templesmith, we would each find something that we needed in a backpack marked with our district number at the Cornucopia at dawn. Cato would never admit it, but we desperately need food. We are not starving, but it is only a matter of time, especially since someone blew up our supplies at the Cornucopia. We both have a suspicion that the culprit is the girl from District 12, the one who earned an 11 in training. Cato is still sore about that. Neither of us know much about hunting, and not to mention, we also need a chance to pick off the competition now that there is a chance that both of us might be able to return to District 2, which is why we're here.
Suddenly, Cato's grip tightens around my arm. I look at him questioningly, but he just nods towards the direction of the Cornucopia. The sun has just risen above the horizon, and I can see a disturbance on the ground in front of the golden horn. It splits open, a small round table rising up. Resting on the white tablecloth are four backpacks—a medium green one with the number 5 on it, two large black backpacks with the numbers 2 and 11 on them, and a tiny orange backpack that I nearly miss, which has the number 12 on it.
Just as the ground stops rumbling, I see a red-headed figure dart out of the Cornucopia and seize the green backpack before running off. My eyes narrow. District Five. Instinctively, my hand tightens around the handle of my knife. No doubt District 12 will be next. Cato and I exchange a nod. It's time to part ways.
"You'll be careful, won't you?" Cato suddenly grabs my hand before I can turn around, gazing intently at me.
I give him a tight smile. "Of course I will. Promise me that you won't do anything stupid." Cato doesn't say anything, but I can tell that he will do whatever needs to be done to get us out of here alive, whether it is stupid or not. It's strange, really. Everyone assumes that Cato is a ruthless and determined fighting machine, but that's only because they see what he wants them to see. True, there are times that he scares even me when he's extremely frustrated or angry, but underneath that hard exterior is someone who is a regular human being just like the rest of us.
Cato holds my gaze for a moment longer before releasing my hand and slinking off into the shadows. He is supposed to stay back and guard me while I deal with District 12 on my own. I turn my attention back to the Cornucopia, and right on cue, District 12 springs out of the underbrush and sprints toward the table. I also begin running towards the table, smirking as I throw my knife at her, aiming at her heart. My smirk turns into a scowl as she deflects my knife almost nonchalantly with her bow. She won't be so lucky next time, I vow.
She loads her bow and sends an arrow flying straight at me, but I manage to turn at the last moment. Unfortunately, the arrow still catches my upper left arm and I am forced to slow down and examine the wound. To my relief, the damage is minimal, and I throw with my right hand. By now, District 12 has already made it to the table, but I grab another knife, get a good grip on it, and fling it towards her just as she's turning around, backpack in hand. It catches her in the forehead, opening a gash. Blood gushes down her face, briefly blinding her and sending her staggering back. This is my chance.
Rushing towards her, I easily dodge the arrow that she sends in my general direction and slam into her, knocking her to the ground. She is powerless now, unable to do anything.
"Where's your boyfriend, District Twelve? Still hanging on?" I taunt her, not able to help myself. I enjoy toying with my victims.
"He's out there now. Hunting Cato," she snarls back, then screams, "Peeta!"
I jam my fist into her throat, silencing her. Although I know Lover Boy is severely injured, I still look around, making sure that he's not about to come crashing through the woods or anything. When no one appears, I turn back to her, grinning savagely. He's as good as dead. Whatever is in their backpack is probably for him.
"Liar," I say. "He's nearly dead. Cato knows where he cut him. You've probably got him strapped up in some tree while you try to keep his heart going. What's in the pretty little backpack? That medicine for Lover Boy? Too bad he'll never get it." I'll make sure of that. Time to keep my promise to Cato now. I open my jacket, revealing a number of knives. The expression on District 12's face almost makes me laugh. It's like she's surprised. Carefully, I select knife with a wickedly sharp, curved blade. It is small and delicate, but perfect for the task I have in mind. I'm not worried about being cut. After all, I've been training with knives for my entire life, just waiting for this opportunity.
"I promised Cato if he let me have you, I'd give the audience a good show." I say, and I always keep my promises. The audience won't know what hit them.
I smile tightly down at Katniss. She is going to pay for her insolence—for the arrow, for her little stunt with the tracker jacker nest, and for all the trouble she has caused us. I am going to enjoy watching her die…
She is trying to remain impassive, but I can see the fear in her eyes as she thrashes around, but to no avail. She is not going to get away. "Forget it, District Twelve. We're going to kill you. Just like we did your pathetic little ally… what was her name? The one who hopped around in the trees? Rue?" Inwardly, I smirk as she pauses momentary to send a hate filled glare at me. Seems like I have struck a nerve."Well, first Rue, then you, and then I think we'll just let nature take care of Lover Boy. How does that sound?" I pause, waiting for her reaction, but I don't get one. How interesting. She reacted more to little girl's death than to Lover Boy's supposed death, but I brush that aside. I have more pressing matters before me. I must get rid of District 12 and get our backpack before Thresh makes his appearance. "Now, where to start?"
Carelessly wiping the blood off her face, I survey her with slightly narrowed eyes, trying to decide where to begin. Decisions, decisions… I give a mocking laugh as the girl tries to bite my hand. Grabbing her hair, I force her back to the ground. "I think…" I trail off, reveling in her discomfort, "I think we'll start with your mouth." Teasingly, I trace the outline of her lips with the tip of my knife. I almost feel sorry for her. The only reason why Cato gave her to me was because he has heard all too many times how long I can make my victims scream. It isn't pretty, and every day, I have nightmares about their tortured screams still ringing in my ears. However, it must be done.
"Yes, I don't think you'll have much use for your lips anymore. Want to blow Lover Boy one last kiss?" In response, she spits a mouthful of blood and saliva in my face. My face twists into a sneer, and all the sympathy I had towards her is swept away in a blur of rage. How dare she do that? I will make her regret that. I will make her scream. "All right then. Let's get started." You'll be sorry you did that…
Smiling grimly, I begin pressing down with my knife, watching as the first beads of blood—scarlet against her already pale skin—began to appear. District 12, you will pay for—
Suddenly, something yanks me back, pulling me up by my throat so I am dangling a foot up from the ground, my back pressed against someone's rock hard chest.
I let out a cry, thrashing around wildly. It is more surprise than fear. Why didn't I hear them? Cato is supposed to hold off any intruders. Suddenly, I am worried. Did anything happen to him? The unknown person flips me around abruptly and flings me to the ground. I wince as my aching body collides with the hard packed earth surrounding the Cornucopia, but I quickly regain my composure.
"What'd you do to that little girl? You kill her?" a low, harsh voice demands from above me.
My breath hitches in my throat, and my blank mask briefly slips as I twist around to face my attacker.
It's Thresh.
He seems terrifying, looming above me like that, his face akin to a thundercloud. Instinctively, I scramble backwards, trying to get away from him. This is not—can not, be happening. My heart beats loudly in my chest, an all too painful reminder that this isn't a dream, that I really am at Thresh's mercy. A foreign emotion spreads across my chest, and it takes me a minute to recognize it. Fear. How ironic.
I have watched the Hunger Games for years, sneering every time I saw a spineless person cower in fear. Weaklings, I remember calling them contemptuously. Their blatant fright was repulsive, and Cato and I had vowed to ourselves that we would rather die than have our enemies see us cower like that. Never had I thought that some day, I might actually be in that very same position… Now, for the first time in my life, I'm not the predator. I am the prey. It is pathetic.
"No! No, it wasn't me!" I said, hating myself for sounding so frantic and desperate. It was all I could do to keep myself from pleading. I hardly recognize myself. Where was the cruel, merciless girl that had trained for the Hunger Games for years? Where had she gone?
"You said her name. I heard you. You kill her?" Thresh continued, his voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. His face darkens further with rage. "You cut her up like you were going to cut up this girl here?" he bellows, unconsciously leaning forward, fists clenching at his side.
"No! No, I—" My eyes fall upon a stone the size of a small loaf of bread that Thresh is clutching in his huge hands. The realization dawns upon me, and I don't bother to hide my terror as I scream Cato's name. "Cato!" I pray with every fiber within me that's he's unharmed, that he's within distance to come to my aid. "Cato!" This is a matter of life and death. It would be so easy for Thresh to swing the rock downward, and have it come smashing down on my—no—NO!
"Clove!" I hear Cato's distant answering cry. If a person's heart can soar and plummet at the same time, I swear mine did. His familiar voice sooths me and assures me that he is all right, yet at the same time, tells me just how far away he is… too far.
Thresh, his face contorted in fury, swings his fist downward, the rock clutched in his hand. I try to dodge—to roll out of the way—but it's of no use. The rock makes contact with the side of my skull, and suddenly, white hot pain explodes in my head—an all-consuming agony that has me writhing around, unable to even scream.
My body collides with the ground with a thud, and I curl up in a fetal position, trying in vain to protect myself from the pain. Why won't it go away? I feel like I am swimming in an ocean of agony—all around me is pain, pain and more pain—it's like I'm drowning in it. A moan escapes my lips, and I am vaguely aware of voices above me talking… but they are indistinct, unimportant... I think I hear Cato's voice calling my name, but at this point, I'm too lost in my own anguish to really be sure. I can feel myself slipping away—the white hot pain is just too much, when—
"Clove!" Cato—I'd know that voice anywhere—suddenly appears out of no where, his stricken face just inches above mine. "No! Clove! Please—just hang in there! Don't leave me!"
Vaguely, I register that I have never heard Cato sound this worried and desperate. Up until now, I haven't even heard him beg before. I try to move my lips—to assure him that there was nothing to be worried about, but this brings about a fresh wave of pain so intense I recoil, too weak to do anything but moan.
"Clove! Please! I am begging you—just hang in there!" Cato seems frantic now as he kneels beside me, taking my face in his hands.
Through the haze of pain, I gaze at his face, so familiar and handsome... How many times had those very eyes gazed at me? How many times have those lips mocked me and made me laugh? I try to tell him not to worry, that I'll be fine, but my body isn't obeying me. It's becoming hard to move… I wish I could just let go… fall into the inviting darkness… "Cato…" His name escapes my lips.
This brings about a whole new round of begging and pleading. "Please! Clove, just pull through this! You have to! I can't lose you! You—you're," his voice breaks, dropping to a frantic whisper. "You can't leave me! I swear, I won't be able to stand it if you're gone..." I try to tell him to stop, that there's no use in saying all this, but he plows on.
"Clove… I love you." My eyes widen fractionally as Cato continues, "And I can't lose you! Please, Clove, please don't leave me." His voice drops even further. "It took me so long to realize—I was afraid to admit it to myself... but I was even more afraid that I would lose you… Clove…" for the first time that I can remember, I see tears spilling from those dark green eyes that I love… I had been a fool not to notice before, that, all along, without even realizing it, I have been in love with the boy kneeling in front of me. A sudden onslaught of energy rushes through my body with this realization.
"Cato…" my voice is weak and breathy. At this point, I don't care how pathetic or weak I sound. I know I do not have much time left, which makes it all the more important for me to say this now. "Cato," I start again more strongly. "I… I love you too." I watch as he raises his head, his eyes full of sadness, anguish, despair… and love. Love for me…
"Then promise me," he whispers hoarsely. "That you will never leave me. That you will always wait for me…"
I can already feel myself slipping away… my mind is clouded with the most agonizing pain and euphoric happiness I have ever felt in my life, but nonetheless, I force myself to respond, knowing that this would be the last thing I could offer him… Cato… "I… promise…" And with the last ounce of my strength, I grasp one of his calloused hands in mine.
"Goodbye… Cato… I… love you…" my voice trails off, my eyes closing. I cannot ignore the pain anymore—I am finally content… content with the knowledge that Cato loves me, and I him. I have no will to fight back anymore… my body is drained and exhausted, and I would like nothing more than to sink back into the darkness… to forget the pain… to forget everything…
The last thing I hear is Cato's anguished howl before the blackness overwhelms me.
I'll be waiting... I promise.