Hazel POV

I didn't like the train ride, it wasn't pleasant. I sat in a chair in the corner of the room alone again, naturally. I leaned over and reached for a cup and the scotch. But just as I was about to pour the scotch into my glass, a deep voice cleared their throat. I looked up to see Cato, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, staring down at me. "And what do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" I said, offended

"I'm kidding, can't you take a joke?", Cato laughed as he sat himself down in the chair in front of me, propping up his leg on his other knee.

I stared at him, and poured the scotch into my glass and took a sip. I almost gagged, I put the glass and scotch back and ran my hand over my hair, smoothing it down. I looked out the window, every tree looked the same, and you wouldn't have thought we'd moved an inch by the scenery.

"You know, Clove was scarily accurate about you", Cato said quietly, he doesn't know how to talk to me. It's evident in the strain in his voice.

"Yeah? And what did she say?"

"She said you were quiet. Anti-social, and nearly un-noticeable.", he shrugged

I looked up at him, "nearly? With all the people in Panem, I figured someone like me wouldn't be noticeable period."

Cato smiled and looked down, "yes nearly, someone like you stands out around here. You wore black to the reaping. It's a tell-tale sign you're not like most district 2 girls"

"Yeah well, I'm not like most girls period. What did you mean when you said someone like me? I know what I meant when I said it, but what about you?"

Cato smiled again, "I meant the kind of person that's been thrashed so much, that they have no more pity for anyone, probably not even for themselves. They keep quiet, private, they pull away from everyone and anyone. They keep themselves isolated so that they can't be hurt anymore, they can't hurt anyone else. They have no life to carry on with, they hole up, and don't let anyone in. their protected and barred, barricaded with walls so thick and high that not even the capitols strongest men could put a scratch on it." Cato paused for a moment, looking at his hands. I stared straight forward, right at him. His words had truth to them, madding me feel pain and sadness. But it wasn't all true, I do still have pity, and feeling, the numbness in my life is a kind of feeling.

I stood and looked down at him; he looked up at me, eyes knowing that he just put his foot in his mouth.

"Cato, you act like you know me. Like you know who I am, the things I've done the things that have happened in my past. That's cute, that's really cute. You have no idea. And you know what? I do still pity people, very few people. For those who are like me, that have the mark I do."

I started to walk away when he said, "You know she talks about you, Clove does, and she talks about you a lot, all the time. How she misses you, how she wishes things could have been different"

I chuckled, "well you know, it's not like you would know what she was talking about. Clove knows better than to talk about that to anyone but me. And if you did know about it, well then I'm afraid that I'd have to kill you, in the arena, or right here right now". Cato snickered to himself, although i had a dead straight face.

"You really think that you could take me? A little thing like you? I'd doubt it; I'm 3 times your size"

I smirked, "and 4 times my body weight. Have fun getting into shape there fat boy." With that, I left; I didn't know where I was going. I walked back towards the end of the train farther and farther until I reached the very back. Out the door, and I was standing on a small platform, a rail in front of me to prevent jumping and suicide casualties. It was nice, wild winds blowing across my face. I thought about the ballet slippers in the small burlap sack in my hand. I wondered about my parents, what my mother would do. With her beautiful, short, sweet, blond hair, her kind brown eyes that could make your heart melt. My father, with his black eyes so harsh youd be a fool to cross his path.

Chapter 3

Hazel POV

The Capitol was the same as always. Horrible, even though were not supposed to say that kind of thing out in public. Especially here, in the capitol, the capitol of the 12 districts and the lies spread by its president. When I had arrived they whisked me away to be striped of nearly all my hair, and be trimmed up for beauty. It disgusts me, how I have to look good for people to envy me so that I can keep my life. So, after all the 'pampering' I was given, I left for my room. Well, it's not my room, no; my room is back in district 2, In the house I grew up in. I layed in bed for a while, till night fall. Then I showered trying to occupy my mind till I meet some of the people responsible for my presence here. After finding some somewhat dark clothing, I walked out to find Cato and our stylist reviewing the reaping's from the other districts. No doubt checking out the competition. I watched for a while, as a young girl named Rue from District 11. The other was Thresh, huge, built, definitely a threat is he means to harm. The last district finally came, the boy tribute went over easy, Mellark I think. But the female tribute however, now that was another story, a young girl. The same age as Rue, long blonde hair, wearing a white blouse and a skirt. Primrose Everdeen, was her name, I couldn't bear the thought of another young 12 year old in the games. But then something amazing happened, something that hasn't happened in years, a volunteer. About 16 years of age, tall, dark hair. The little girls older sister, being what she should be, doing what she should do, protect her sister. It's an honorable thing to do, and it'll probably get her killed, but still I give her my respect for that. Apparently Cato didn't agree, although my presence was still unbeknownst to him and the others.

"What an idiot! She sacrificing herself for a kid, she's going to get herself killed. Maybe I'll make one of the others kill her, im not going to waste my energy on someone so reckless with her life. At least that's one definite kill.", he stated, shaking his head

Anger bubbled inside me, "then you are a stupid idiot yourself. You wouldn't know bravery or honor if it slapped you across the face." I raved. Cato's head snapped around faster than you could say 'stupid idiot'.

He stood and stared at me, anger simmering on his face. I stood my ground, hands balled into fists, my nails dug into my palms. I kept my face blank, but allowed my eyes to glare in hate of his dumb, ignorant, remark. Cato matched my glare easily, advancing on me, an angry pep in his steps.

"what did you just say to me? you really must be some stupid, silent, invisible girl, huh?", he said. the stylists walked out of the room, or ran, more like it. But got out of the way of our cruel, verbal war. In merely a few moments, this had transformed from a small rain storm, into a raging hurricane.