A/n: Just another oneshot I wrote before going to school. Please, review and tell me if you liked it, it always makes my day to know what people think about my writing.
Hope you like it!
It´s freezing outside and the wind doesn´t help at all, it literally throws the snow to her face. She keeps on walking down the empty street, adjusting the scarf around her neck every time it exposes her pale skin to the brute, cold air. It is a red scarf, the one she uses. She has been wearing red every day since she came back from the arena. You should use red more often, he whispered to her ear once, caressing the naked skin of her shoulders with his thumb, it suits you perfectly. Her eyes are stuck to the ground covered by fluffy snow and her eyes are glassy due to the air. She hasn´t cried again; there are almost no tears left in her frigid body anymore. Actually, Clove doubts there is anything left in her, anything but the ruins of what she was one day.
The Victor´s Village is a dark street with huge houses surrounded by gardens which are rarely used. It´s not like the Capitol lets the Victors to enjoy their new street, not often. Looking at all those houses, most of them empty, she wonders which one he would have picked if he came with her. Or alone. She didn´t care if he came alone, it would be better than that; anything was better than the life she was living. Her parents died when she was a child and there were no siblings, no cousins, no family to look for Clove. After winning the 74th Hunger Games, she got a luxurious home and the permission to leave the Training Center. There was nothing more to do there anyway, unless Clove wanted to be a trainer – which she obviously didn´t. What was the point of training kids to do something they would die for and in vain? And what is the point of giving your life to train for something that will take your humanity from you? What is the point? She wondered. And the answer never came.
Her eyes could barely catch the light from the lamps; her world was far darker than that night and no light could save her from the mind she was drowning in. It is ironic that someone so bad can even get worse if there is no one beside them. That was what happened with Clove, and she knows it wouldn´t have happened with Cato too, if he was there instead of her. He would mourn her death, that was for sure, but he wouldn´t let people see how hurt he was. He would surround himself by people and try to push the feelings aside, convincing himself she was just a ghost and there was nothing he could do to bring her back. But he was the ghost and Clove couldn´t make herself accept it.
As her mind travel through memories, her feet instinctively take her to the small meadow behind the Training Center.
She smiles for the first time in months when she notices where she was.
She cries for the first time in weeks when she reminds that he promised to taker her there in her Birthday.
She uses her voice for the first time in days and screams his name, falling on her knees and punching the glass mixed with dirty snow.
And as she takes the knife from the inside of her boot, Clove feels peace for the first time in years. Because, when the pain disappears and the cold is finally gone, she is at home again. With him.