Clove's POV
Welcome to your life
There's no turning back
Even while we sleep
We will find you
Acting on your best behavior
Turn your back on Mother Nature
I slam my door behind me and lock it before I have the chance to change my mind. I lean my back against the cold, hard wood and slowly sink to the floor, bringing my head into my hands.
"Clove! Dammit, Clove, open this door right now!"
I bite my lip until I taste the familiar warm saltiness of blood on my tongue, and even then I don't stop. I need the pain. The pain keeps me grounded. Pain has been my one constant. Pain won't betray me.
"Clove!" Cato screams, pounding on the door with his fists.
I shouldn't be sitting here. I know better than anyone that Cato could break down this door if he really wanted to. I wince as the pounding continues, biting down on my lip harder. I will not cry. I refuse to cry.
"Clove, please. Please just say something. I just need to hear your voice."
His voice is softer now. He clearly realized that his previous approach wasn't working. Still, I don't answer him. Call it my innate sense of pride, or a lifetime of defiance and contempt, but I refuse to give in to him.
"Clo, come on. Please? Just talk to me. Tell me you're okay, and I'll go if that's what you want."
Cato's voice has quieted to a soft whisper. I know he must be sitting on the other side of the door, his ear pressed against it listening for my voice. So close to me, but so far away. I get up and make my way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. The more distance I put between us, the better. I know he'll eventually get the hint and leave, but it will be harder and harder for me to resist him when I am sitting so close, hearing all the pain and longing in his voice.
It's better this way anyways. He's not stupid. He knows that only one of us can come out of that arena. It's going to be him. I'm not going to let him pull this lovesick Romeo and Juliet bullshit and endanger the reputation of my entire district, my sister, my mentors. We're Trainees. We're Career tributes. We're the best in the eye of the Capitol. District Two worked hard to achieve its superiority above the other districts. My mother, father, brother, and sister all had a part in that and there's no way in hell I'm letting my boyfriend tear it down. I come from a bloodline of Victors. I was supposed to continue that bloodline. But since I will be the first Prescott to not win her Games, Cato needs to. Whether he likes it or not, this is his year. He's trained for this for his entire life. He's going home to District Two. Without me.
A few hours later, I have finally calmed down. After spending nearly twenty minutes trying to work out exactly how to operate the fancy Capitol showers, I finally managed to clean myself up. I now smell like lemons, instead of the musky scent of the Training Center. Although, I have to admit I kind of miss it. It reminded me of all the blood, sweat and tears it took me to get here. It was my home. The home I'll never return to.
My straight black hair has been dried and smoothed. It hangs sleekly down my back, reaching my waist. At home, I just pull it into a high ponytail or braid, and I hardly ever bother to brush it. It surprises me how much it's grown over the past few years.
I put on a pair of black leggings and a black tank top and decide to turn on the television. After flicking through all the channels, I finally find what I'm looking for. The recap of all the Reapings. Time to check out the competition, I think bitterly, laughing to myself. I know that the other tributes will hardly be competition. District One is trained, just like we are, but they are usually too vain and stupid to actually kill us. They have the beauty and the brawn, it's the brains they lack.
By the looks of it, this year is no different. District One's tributes are gorgeous blonde teenagers with glowing skin, shiny hair, and gleaming teeth. The boy, Marvel, practically throws the small reaped child off of the stage when he comes forth to volunteer. He stands at the edge of the stage, waving to the cameras and flexing his muscles. He's not hopeless, but he has nothing on Cato. No threat there. The girl, Glimmer, is the image of beauty by anyone's standards. She won't have any problems getting sponsors. The men of the Capitol adore girls like her. They invest all of their money on her in the arena so that they can have her when the Games are over. Unlike most children of the districts, I am not blind to the ways of the Capitol. I come from a family of Victors, I know that it doesn't end after they put a crown on your head.
Finally, the camera switches to District Two. I feel a pang in my chest as the camera sweeps over the elaborately decorated Square, the colorful outdoor market, the stone quarries, the massive mountain that houses Panem's Center of Defence, and the Training Center off in the distance. My mind won't let me forget that I will never be going back. I turn my attention away from the screen. I lived through the Reaping, I don't need to see it again. Cato's stunned face, Audrina's pleas and tears, its too painful.
After a few moments the screen moves to District Three. Its uneventful as always. District Three hasn't had a victor since Beetee. The Gamemakers haven't provided any wire or tools in the Cornucopia since he electrocuted all of the remaining tributes at once. Apparently it didn't make for a very exciting finale to the Games, and the Capitol was not entertained.
The District Four tributes look ridiculous as usual. After Finnick Odair's victory nine years ago, District Four became enamored with the riches showered upon them and began to secretly train tributes. Of course, the training in Four has never been as organized or respected as it is in Districts One and Two, but I have to give them props for trying. They managed to snag two more victors since Finnick. In the 70th Games Annie Cresta won, though, I still think her victory was a bit of a fluke. Then last year River Ford took the crown and became the Capitol's newest obsession. He's just a newer, younger version of Finnick, except a whole lot more arrogant. This years tributes are the same as usual, pretending to look deadly and intimidating for the cameras. They're nothing but cheap imitations of us as far as I'm concerned.
After District Four, the rest of the Reapings get pretty boring. In District Five, a small red haired girl named Brighton grabs my attention. I'm shocked by the way she stares into the camera, wide eyed and unblinking. Her district partner is a mess of sobs, but she remains still. She shows no emotion and no fear. District Five is electric, solar and nuclear power. I've heard that they take the most intelligent kids and put them in the labs to work. I decide that she must be intelligent, and unlike most Career tributes, I know that intelligence is not something to be ignored in the arena.
None of the other tributes capture my attention until District Eleven. The tributes could not be more different from each other. The girl, Rue, is a tiny little girl. She hardly looks like she should even be eligible for the Games. The male tribute is massive. Where Rue is a small child, Thresh looks like a fully grown man, too old to be eligible. I notice that he is strong. He is bigger and taller than Cato, and I wonder if we should ask him to be a part of the Career alliance. I doubt he'll go for it, considering the other districts are taught to hate us, but it's worth a shot. He's the only tribute I've seen so far that could be considered any kind of competition, though I doubt he will be a threat. He may be strong, but tributes from the outlying districts are typically simple-minded, and he wouldn't have the slightest idea how to use a weapon, much less actually kill somebody. Still, I make a mental note not to overlook him like we have in years past.
The Reaping in District Twelve starts out mundane as usual. A chill runs down my spine as the cameras pan over the Square, thankful that I come from a more affluent district. The difference between District Two and District Twelve is like night and day. The citizens are weak and starving. Terrified, hollow eyed children line up for the Reaping wearing tattered, dirty clothes as their coal dust covered parents look over them, knowing there is nothing they can do.
The ridiculously dressed escort struts up to the first bowl and pulls out the name of the female tribute. Slowly, a small blonde girl makes her way up to the stage. Great, another twelve year old. Contrary to popular belief I don't especially enjoy taking the lives of small children. My thoughts are interrupted by the commotion happening on stage.
"It seems that District Twelve has it's very first volunteer!" the escort exclaims excitedly, helping a skinny dark haired girl up to the stage.
I narrow my eyes at the screen. There's something different about her. The way she moves, the fire in her eyes. She's trained. I know its an impossible thought. Why on Earth would someone from District Twelve be trained? But still, I can't shake the feeling. She is skinny, but not starving. She is more lean and muscular than any of the other children in the district, though from the looks of her clothes I am sure she is not from the merchant part of town. The fire and determination in her eyes is something I have never seen in a tribute from an outlying district. She does not look scared, she looks like she wants to win. She is trained, I'm sure of it.
The Reaping recap is over, I missed the boy from District Twelve, but I'm sure he is just as helpless as the other children. The screen switches back to Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith, but their obnoxious Capitol accents frustrate me and I turn the television off.
I can't take my mind off of the girl from District Twelve. Pacing back and forth in my room, I find myself wanting to run to Cato and ask him what he thinks. He'll probably think I'm crazy, and tell me that there's no way a girl from Twelve would be trained. He'd probably be right anyways, but it doesn't matter. Cato is not an option anymore. I cannot depend on him like I have for the past five years. He needs to win this, and I cannot be a distraction. I am on my own.
"Clove?" My thoughts are interrupted by a soft voice at the door, "It's me."
I know without question that it's my sister, and I rush to open my door for her. We stare at each other for a moment before I throw myself into her arms. I can feel Audrina's tears on my neck and I hug her closer to me.
"Clove, I'm so sorry. This is my fault."
"It's not, Drina. How can it be your fault?"
"It is. Snow hates me. He's always hated me. For what I said in the arena. For loving Crisis. For breaking the rules. He knows I love you both. I'm Cato's mentor, it's my job to keep him alive. But you're my sister. You're the only family I have left and I can't let you die in there. I can't lose you, Clove. I've lost everyone else."
"Audrina, you'll have Cato. Cato deserves to win. This is his year."
"It was his year until they pulled your name out of the bowl. I'm not going to let my little sister die in there. That's what Snow wants."
"No," I argue, desperately trying to convince her to see my side. "What Snow wants is for you to make yourself insane seeing us in there. He wants to torment you. He wants to see you drive yourself to madness trying to keep us both alive and then breaking down when one or both of us dies."
"You're not going to die."
"Yes, Audrina, I am! Why don't you understand that? What do you expect me to do? Go through the whole games as Cato's ally and then kill him when we're the only two left? Is that what you want? For me to kill the only person who has ever loved me?"
"I love you!" Audrina screams, shaking my shoulders. "I've loved you since the day you were born. Everything I have ever done has been to protect you, to make you stronger! You're not going to throw that all away!"
"Do you understand the position you're putting me in?" I ask, sitting down on the edge of my bed.
Audrina sits next to me and massages her temples. Sitting here with her now I remember how young she actually is. She was fifteen when she went into her Games too. She was reaped, and no one volunteered for her. Being the oldest Prescott daughter, everybody knew it was her birthright to win the Games. At the time, she was the most skilled female tribute in the Training Center. Even the eighteen year old Trainee chosen to volunteer knew that Audrina was our best chance that year. Although he would never admit it, Crisis, Audrina's lover, volunteered to protect her. She didn't need anybody's protection, but Crisis would rather die in the arena to make sure that she came out alive than wait at home and watch her, not knowing if she would come back. Augustus, the chosen male Trainee, was furious. All of the mentors were furious. Never had someone interfered with the chosen Trainees. Icarus, the head of the Training Center punished Cato and I for Crisis's actions. As if seeing them in the Games together wasn't torture enough.
Audrina played her Games well. She played the part of a deranged, psychotic killer to a tee. She made every single one of her kills memorable. She was notorious for the way she would carve out the hearts of the tributes she killed. When I watched the games I felt like I was watching another person. The person on the screen was not my sister. It was Cato who explained to me that it was all an act. The Hunger Games is first and foremost a television show. The Capitol sees us how they want to see us, and it is our job to make it believable. We are trained to kill, yes. That doesn't mean we enjoy doing it. We put on a facade for the cameras. It terrifies the other tributes and excites the Capitol. More often than not, it results in our victory.
However, toward the end of the Games, Audrina began to crack. It was miserable watching it and knowing there was nothing I could do. She was overcome with rage and grief after Crisis's death. Somewhere around her third or fourth kill, she realized who the real enemy was. She began to speak out against the Capitol in the arena, and we all thought the Gamemakers would kill her. However, President Snow thought it was a better idea to let her win, and make the rest of her life a living hell. It's for that reason that I'm on my way to the Capitol right now instead of at home in District Two.
"Audrina," I start, my voice much calmer. "I don't know what to do. I don't want to die in there. But there's no way for us both to win, you know that."
"I know. But you should know that Cato and I have already discussed this. It was his idea, not mine."
"What do you mean?" I ask, though I have a feeling I know what she is going to say.
"That boy loves you, Clove. He would impale himself on his own sword if it meant saving your life. And that's exactly what he plans to do. He wants you to win, and he's willing to do just about anything to make sure you come out of that arena."
I feel my cheeks turning red, burning with anger. Rage is spreading throughout my entire body, and I find myself itching for one of my knives. I lunge at my sister, pinning her to the ground.
"If you let him die for me, Audrina, I swear to god I will come back and kill you myself!"
"It was his choice, Clove! Not mine!" Audrina pushes me off of her and pins me down beneath her.
"Oh, I'm sure you had your fair share of influence over him." I snarl, raking my fingernails across her left cheek, leaving three bloody gashes.
Disgusted, I push her off of me before storming out of my room and into Cato's. However, he is not there. Fueled by my rage I make my way down the hallway and into the dining room. Cato, Seraphina, and Enobaria are sitting together, casually eating dinner as if nothing in the world is wrong. This angers me even more. How can they be so nonchalant? How can Cato not care? How can he have so easily given up on his own life, his own victory, that he has planned for so long?
I pick up a knife from the table and send it flying across the room. It lodges itself into Cato's chair, mere centimeters from his head. Seraphina shrieks, yelling something about mahogany, and then the room falls dead silent. Cato looks up at me, wide eyed and startled.
"When exactly were you planning on telling me about your fucking suicide mission?"
There's a room where the light won't find you
Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down
When they do, I'll be right behind you
So glad we've almost made it
So sad we had to fade it
Everybody wants to rule the world
Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Olive, or District11-Olive for her amazing review, because it inspired me to keep writing instead of deleting this story like I wanted to. Enjoy Chapter Two! x
For pictures, character descriptions and more please visit the Born To Die blog: borntodie74 . blogspot . com (without the spaces)
Lyrics: Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Tears for Fears (Cover by Lorde)