Here is chapter two. Enjoy! Oh, and alot swearing in this one.

CLOVE POV

I let myself lounge on the couch as I twirl a blade with my fingertips. Black tendrils of hair sprawled across the cream material. Matted and split at the ends soon to become layer upon layers of flowing silk after those stylists have finished with me. It's amazing how a lifetime of training for death can turn you in to a girl who couldn't care less how her hair looked (even if you do come from the capital's favoured district).Cato, Enobaria and Brutus all sat in the same room on different lumps of furniture with eyes focused on the TV screen. Cato more so than our mentors. Where as Cato squeezed his hands in a vice like grip and scraped his toes against the floor so hard that they had started to make claw like dents in the wood Enobaria and Brutus seemed to take my approach. Brutus lay back lazily, but not without steel in his stare, and Enobaria absentmindedly picked at her teeth so roughly that I thought she was trying to tear the gold plates from the triangles. I was one-hundred percent sure that my score wouldn't be any lower than a nine and so was Cato. He was just riled up for the competition. He needed to know that he got the highest score of them all. Pride is his biggest weak spot. And to be fair I was masking a frenzied need to know the score of the bitch on fire.

Cato's body became stiff as they started to roll out the numbers that could mean the difference between a tribute's life and death. The first was Glimmer from district one. The image showed a tall girl with long flaxen hair falling like golden waves against the grey suit as her green eyes gazed ahead of her like the sharp edges of an emerald. She received a ten from the judges. Then was her partner, the boy Marvel, who was shown as a scraggy, skinny tribute with a height of around "6.3". He got a score of 9.

Then came our district. Leaning further towards the screen Cato took a jagged breath through gritted teeth. A tall body with short blonde hair, bottle green eyes and bumps of solid muscle appeared on the monitor.

"And the score for our male district 2 tribute is..." Cato waited with baited breath.

"Ten" said the blue haired capital cheerfully.

Cato's eyes narrowed. His was body still tense and stiff. Knowing him he will be like this until all tributes have emerged on screen.

After being presented as a small dark haired imp like character with a mischievous smirk on its face I found out that my score was equal to Cato's.

The gorgeous twat held a grin on his face almost the whole way through as fairly low numbers came up for each person (All though the male from district 11 did rouse a growl from his throat.)

Finally, the words district 12 came in to view. First was 'lover boy' who got a score of 8. I felt a snigger slip past my lips at the number and watched as my district partner smiled mockingly at the TV.

"And now for the score of our final tribute..." As his face goes blank, as the smile is wiped from his features and as his body tilts towards the glass I know this is the one we've both been waiting for. The banshee: The bitch on fire.

"Katniss Everdeen," He says in a voice that is clearly intended to rile up the crowd.

Ever so slowly he slides the card from the envelope. I watch the way his fingers lightly pinch the edges of the paper. It renders me completely oblivious to the feel of the serrated rim of the blade sliding into my palm as if it were butter. I don't notice as the blood slides across my skin, coating it with a sticky trail: a coppery scent. I don't notice the red liquid spilling over my flesh to land on the cream fabric beneath it.

"11"

I don't notice as the blade is wrenched from its bed and flies across the room to land in the center of the screen.

I relish in the feel of her screams pulsating through me. One knife embedded in the bitch's stomach while the other decorates her face with shallow cuts I growl with the power of an animal: a lion as it feeds on its prey.

"Clove!"

A voice rips me from my reverie as I realise who I am really trying to kill. Not the bitch on fire. Cato lay beneath me. His left hand held a fixed grip around my wrist. I notice that my hand holds the end of the blade that had previously been buried in the broken glass of the TV screen.

The breath is knocked out of me when I feel the tables turn. His brawny hands hold mine above my head as his eyes look at me with rage and shock.

"Clove, what the fuck was that!" He spat.

"Oh, well, I suppose you wouldn't care if she got a higher score than you! You're too infatuated with the rat faced bitch to give a fuck!"

I swear to god that he saw red and was about to hit me but before I could find out the strong arms of Brutus tore him away from me.

"The only reason I care if either of you kill each other, before the games begin that is, is that it will reflect badly on me. So, get your shit together and stop feeding me bull,"

Me and Cato stared at our mentor with sight tinged crimson.

"Both of you are pathetic! Clove you stay here. Cato get out of my sight and go cool off" Brutus growled as he gave us, what can only be described as, death glares.

Nostril flaring, hands clenched to form fists and teeth bared Cato slammed the door. Its hinges bent with the force.

Okay, so, that was very hard work for me. I hope you appreciate it. I know I said this chapter was going to be based in the actual arena but I've decided to add some more detail and show Clove's Pov in a couple more events that I was going to miss out originally. I also know that some people see Clove as being a little more diplomatic than Cato but to me she will always be the crazy, psycho bitch from district 2 who can flip at any given moment. I suppose we all have different interpretations of our favourite characters ;) I'm half through the third chapter and i've already written some Katniss and Cato interracion so that will be coming up The more reviews the faster the update

Ps I can get very paranoid so do you think this warrants an M rating?