"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour!"

That was it. That was the moment everything I had been working for in the past weeks did not mean anything to me anymore. Me and my best friend were about to fight to the death. It was unavoidable. I didn't know what to do. I froze, as my district partner, my soul mate, charged at me with her knife. I braced myself for the worst, for my beloved Clove to stab me in whichever way would kill me the quickest. I knew, that even though she was a cold-blooded killer, much like myself, she didn't want to hurt me. She had to.

She knocked me down, and I struggled to get from out under her as her blade got closer to my neck. Then, I did the unexpected, gave her a soft, lingering kiss on the lips, our first and last. Our final goodbye. What happened after that is all a terrible, messy blur that I wish, more than anything, I could erase from my memory. As she was pulling away from kissing me, looking in to my eyes, I managed stab her in the stomach with my sword, she looked at her wound and I managed to stab her in the same place, finishing her off. A few moments later, the cannon fires. I've just killed Clove Paradis. The girl who used to play-fight with me when we were kids. The girl who trained with me day and night. The only person I'd ever truly care about. Before the hovercraft comes to take her away, I caress her blood-stained cheek and move her messy, dark hair out of her face. "I'm sorry, Clove" are the only words my mind will allow me to say at this point.

When it came to the post-game interview with Caeser Flickerman, everyone was in complete and utter shock at our final goodbye. "So, Katniss and Peeta weren't the only star-crossed lovers in this years games, it would seem" he says, trying to sound sympathetic, and I clench my fists in rage. They weren't star-crossed lovers at all. Being from a Career District, I'd watched almost every single Hunger Games tape from almost every game, and I'd seen all kinds of strategies. I knew from the beginning the star-crossed lovers angle was just that, an angle, and so did Clove. I think Marvel and Glimmer had their suspicions, but Clove and I had no doubts it was all just an act, and the people in The Capitol loved it. Clove and I didn't need any stupid romance angle to get as far as we did in The Games. We got that far because we'd trained our whole lives for it, and when I kissed Clove, it wasn't an act for the sponsors, it was because I really did love her. "Well, Caeser, it would appear that way" I said, emotionless, sarcastic.

Now, whenever I get the chance, I go to our favourite place to train in the hot, desert landscape of District 2. I imagine she's still with me, and we're taking a break from training to sit and talk about things like we used to, sometimes we'd joke about annoying people in school and sometimes we'd talk about stuff we were going through. How my parents couldn't care less about me, their son, unless he was a victor, and she'd talk to me about her depression. We were each others rocks.

When Cloves name was called out in the arena, a flurry of hands raised, people wanting to volunteer, but Clove, like most career tributes, wanted to go to the arena. She'd been training for it the past six years of her life. I felt my heart sink, and when the next kids name was called out, some wimpy 12 year old, I volunteered for him instantly, knowing I had to be there to protect Clove, not considering the fact that it might come down to me and her, but it did. When Claudius Templesmith made the announcement that the two tributes from the same District could win the games this year, I instantly turned to Clove and winked at her. It would be us. We were going to win this.

Now I have to live with the fact that I killed my best friend whom I was in love with, and I hate myself for it.