First fanfiction, so go easy. :) Thanks and review!
I am aware of the spelling/grammer errors, I'm doing this on my own and trying my best.
Summary:
Brynell Andes was raised a Career, and though she can snap someone's neck in a minute and kill them, she would rather not. The pressure of being lethal that comes from all directions in District 2 hasn't gotten to her. She still has that humane side to her, one she doesn't plan on losing. Brynell was the girl to get into Cato's tough exterior, and they fell in love. But Cato knew since he was a boy that when he turned 18 he was going to volunteer for the Games. Brynell can't talk him out of it, he can make his own decisions. What Brynell is afraid of is Cato, the one she fell in love with who was more sane and less blood-thirsty, will be gone when or if he comes home Victor. The Games will change everyone.
The Girl From District 2
Chapter 1
He made me wait. I couldn't volunteer for him, he was a boy. I couldn't volunteer with him. Clove had already taken the role. And she wouldn't let me have it.
Being raised for murder isn't something I wanted. It was bred in me, but I liked to pick it out and seperate it from myself. Just because I was capable of killing someone with my bare hands didn't mean I was going to. But I would have, for Cato.
District 2 was a good one, I believed it. Underneath all the hunger for the pride that sickeningly came with the death of others. Like Cato. I didn't like him in the beginning. I depsiesed him. He was always the best of the academy, showing off and being arrogant. The rest of the girls fell at his feet when they weren't training. I avoided him best I could. I didn't want to get involved with any of the people from my district. And nothing could've changed that. Not even the Capitol.
But somehow Cato slowly crept up on me. Conveiently being in the right place at the right time. He tried his best to catch my eye. I didn't let him have it. Except for that one night.
It was late and I was not in a hurry to rush home and deal with the hostilities there. Instead, I held myself back at the academy for some alone time. I sat alone in one of the rooms, leaning up against the wall. A knife in my hand was carving pointless lines in a piece of spare wood I found lying around. The light was on, but it was dim. I was sure I was the only one in there.
Footsteps approached. Faintly and then they grew louder. I silently wished it wasn't an instructor or PeaceKeeper. They'd haul me out in a second. I held my breath and stalled the knife carving.
A shadow appeared, tall and taunting. I could only stare. It made its way into the room and stood in the doorway, starring back at me. In the lightning I could sort of make it out. But I knew that stature anywhere. Cato Locke.
He came nearer and I still hadn't exhaled. The free space beside me was taken by his enormous body. Still in the training uniform we were everyday. Black shirt, black training pants with the white belt, and the brown laced-up boots.
"What are you still doing here, Miss. Andes?"
His voice was softer than usual, but it still had that power behind it.
It was a few seconds before I found my voice.
"Nothing specific," I answered quietly.
Cato reached over and took the knife and wood from my hands. He studied it before dropping it to his lap.
"I see that. Really; what's a pretty girl like you doing in the academy alone? At this hour?"
From my peripheral vision I saw his face clearly. The blonde hair perfectly tousled. The jawline. His straight nose. And for a split second, he looked beautiful. But he had a reputation. And he lived for the Hunger Games. For finally getting an opportunity to volunteer. I couldn't deal with someone like that.
"If I wanted you to know, I would've told you the first time you asked, Mr. Locke."
I retrieved my wood and knife, stood up, and made my way to the door. But he was quick, and there he stood in the doorway again.
"So eager to go, huh?" he teased with a smirk.
"I might ask you the same question you asked me before. What are you doing here so late?"
Cato crossed his arms. The muscles bulging.
"Private fencing lesson. Usually this place is empty by the time I'm done."
I nodded, veering to the right to get past him and leave. He mimicked me and left me with no way out. I went to the opposite side, he went the same direction. I wasn't in the mood for games.
"Will you move or will we keep playing this game?" I sighed.
He raised an eyebrow and chuckled.
"Depends on what kind of game you're interested in playing."
"None with you. None with anybody. I hate games. Goodnight," I explained and made way to the left again. He followed.
"Please just move," I asked.
"Or what?" Cato was such a tester.
"Or I-" I started to retort but feet traveling the halls echoed throughout and I froze. I wasn't allowed to be there that late. I wasn't sure Cato was either. If a person had a private lesson or something after normal hours, they were to leave directly after that ended. We didn't.
"Damn," I cursed to myself.
My arm was being pulled outside the door and I looked up to see Cato guiding me around the academy. I was about to ask where we were headed, but I didn't want to risk it. Knowing I would regret it later, I went where he led and didn't question it until after we made it out of the building and into a small hiding spot behind an apothecary. In the dark night, no one would see us.
"What are you doing?" I demanded in a harsh whisper.
"Getting you and my ass the hell out of there," he replied, his face set hard.
I rolled my eyes.
"Well, I would appreciate it if you would just end this little party here. Goodbye, Cato."
As I began to walk away, he took my wrist. I twisted around and gasped when he pushed me up against the wall of the cold shop. I was pinned and couldn't wriggle out of his grasp.
"Did you bring me here to kill me?" I spat.
"Just because you have an assumption in that head of yours doesn't make it correct," he replied sternly.
I breathed deeply, an atempt at staying calm.
"What then?"
"Why do you ignore me? Whenever I look at you and say one word, you back away. I've never given you reason to fear me. Intimidated, maybe. But not afraid. Esspecially when I've trained with you since we were kids."
"I don't need to be involved with anyone else from this district. Including you." It was true.
Cato inched closer to my face and I felt his hot breath on mine.
"You got a good reason why?"
"I know the kind of person you are," I answered. But my voice was wavering. I begged it not to resent me.
His face moved in closer. His forehead touched mine.
"You've never spoken to me before now," he whispered.
"I-I kn-know y-you." Damnit.
"Oh, do you? Do you know I like you, Brynell?"
Cato bridged the gap and lightly put his lips on mine. I didn't move. I didn't shutter. I didn't breathe. He didn't force it, he pulled back and we starred at each other for a minute.
We met up secretly with each other after training ever since.
I wasn't in love with him yet. But over time, our conversations got deeper and deeper. He occassionally let me in. Once he realized it, he would shut up and become the cocky, blood-thirsty Hunger Games trainee again. Everytime, though, he would take longer to realize it, eventually letting me really get to know Cato Locke. My assumptions were wrong.
Cato was sweet. With me. He treated me as an equal, because he knew I could hold my own. But he was protective of me at times. Someone would gossip something about me at the academy and Cato would have to be held back from the almost-victim. Cato was still an ego-maniac. I helped keep him in line. He teased me for fun, and I teased him back. I told him everything and he shared his secrets with me. We were eachother's rock.
We did fall in love. It was only a year earlier that he had met up with me in the room that night. It wasn't long. But it had a lot of depth.
The Reaping was shouldn't have been a surprise to me. Cato was 18. He had been waiting his entire life to enter the Hunger Games and come out Victor, for our district. Pride was something he treasured. And his father was once a Victor. He was obligated.
Before a name was chosen for the tributes of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, his voice shot straight up as volunteer. And I had to stand by and listen to the roar of District 2 as they applauded and cheered him on. The reality of it hit me on the head. My Cato was really going to have to fight to the death.
Clove had volunteered before I could do anything about being tribute alongside him. Standing on stage next to Cato, they accepted their parts as District 2's tributes. I tried to swallow the bile rising in my throat as I accepted the possibility of Cato not making it out alive.