LIFE
Rain. District 2 being so far in the north is known by it's frequent rain. Everyone hates it, but me. I love it. It is pure, it cleared every bad thing out of my mind. Like the fact that soon I'm going to be killing a bunch of kids, probably including the guy I kind of like.
"I love the rain." I blurt out.
"Me too." he replies.
"No you don't. You're just saying that because I said that."
"Why would you think that?"
"Because I remember our first meeting." A 3 years old flashback finds it's way into my mind. It was raining heavily for 3 days in the District but that didn't stop me from being in the Training Centre in 4.30 a.m. I loved it there, it was where I released my feelings. My training mentor Brutus came in just as my knife stuck in the head of my target.
"Well done, Larson. Any better and you'll be better than I am." I'm shocked by the statement because I barely turned 12 and he's been training with knife twice as many years.
"Larson, I want you to meet someone. Enobaria told me about her student and she was you to meet him. He's 15 and not one single person stands a chance against him. No one lasted longer than a minute in the combat with him." He takes my hand and leads me to the lounge room.
"Wait there!"
"Yes, mister Brutus." I say and watch Enobaria walk in the room. Vicious.
"Nice to meet you, lady Enobaria."
"You must be Clove, am I right?"
"Yes, lady Enobaria." What confuses me is that there is no 15-year old boy near her. Just as I think about that a tall, strong, blonde haired, blue eyed boy walks in running.
"I hate rain! Lady Enobaria, sorry I'm late. The street was blocked." Blond locks cover his forehead, water dripping down his face. Blue eyes filled with hate. I see my competition. Someone I have to beat. Three years later and one look in those eyes makes me regret volunteering. His eyes full with love now look at me at the mention of our first meeting.
"You're right. I hated it. But now I love it. It reminds me of someone. So pure, so innocent like the way that person looks around me."
Somehow I know he's talking about me. But I'm not the person he sees. I'm a vicious, ruthless murder, volunteering for the Games. I remember when it started, when I got confidence in myself. It was a day after we met. Enobaria brought Cato to fight me. Hand-to-hand. No weapons. Just like the way my father won 54th Games. Games in which the Gamemakers declined weapons. Only food. Nothing else. I was trained in the combat by him. Not by Brutus, not by Enobaria. By my dad. So I took on Cato. Both he and Enobaria thought he would win, but Brutus knew what would happen. In the matter of ten minutes Cato was on the ground, with me pinning him and holding an imaginary knife on his throat.
"Dead!" I yell.
Ever since that day he trained and trained, demanding a rematch every single day. I somehow managed to refuse every day. He is going to get his chance. In a week. In the arena. I'm brought back in the reality by Cato's frown.
"You know if I die in the Games I want to die in the rain." I say daydreaming.
"You're not going to die. I am. Just promise me that you'll wait for the rain to kill me. Please, promise." He replies
"You know I can't promise that because I couldn't kill you. Not now, not ever, Cato. I don't even know why you volunteered when I was up there."
"Becaus-" He's cut off by the stop of the train and the screaming of the people I hate. People who are going to bet on when I die.
