Hello, hello, everyone! Well it has finally been done-I promised it would be up before June 1st! I have a whole hour and 56 minutes to spare ;) Sorry this took so very long for such a shamefully short chapter, but now that I'm back on track I hope updates will be more frequent. Please be kind as this is practically the first time I've written in nearly a year outside of school papers. I apologize for the brevity, but I tried to focus on emotion this chapter. Next chapter will be full of solid content that will get on with the plot. I would like to thank everyone who has supported A Bloodthirsty Love and this current project of mine, your support and reviews mean all the world to me! I would like to extend a special thanks to SheerwaterPhoenix for keeping me on my toes and holding me accountable for my promise to update :) My brother also deserves a ton a thanks for helping me write this chapter. He shocked me with his writing ideas and abilities, although he is begging me to kill off either of the main characters (don't worry, at this point I am not apt to do such a thing!). It took so dreadfully long to post this tonight because we were laughing so hard and getting distracted too easily. I'm sorry for the long introduction, I'll let you get to reading now! Please enjoy and review :)
Cato's POV
The realization sweeps over me in a wave of nausea and shock, the recognition of the repulsive fact that I might be sent back into the Hunger Games. I'm supposed to be safe, we were promised safety and security from this nightmare after murdering and killing in their last sick game. What right have they to swipe that rug out from underneath our feet? To make us turn once again into the vicious killers we've tried so desperately to abandon? But they have every right- Snow has every right. Or if not the right, at least the power to do it.
A thought hits me, a loathsome yet powerful thought. What do I have to worry about? I've trained at the Academy, I've won the Hunger Games before. There's no reason I couldn't win again. In fact there is no reason I shouldn't want to win again, or at least take the opportunity to try. A Victor of not one, but two Games? Imagine the fame, the triumph, the pride!
This swell of excitement is quelled by the sound of wary, exhausted sobs from Clove. Shame rips through me, shattering my twisted dream of murderous fame and victory. Reality returns—the reality that my wife, my beautiful and perfect wife, may very soon be gone. Her hair has fallen from her ponytail and clings with static to the carpet she is laying on, her delicate yet deadly hand curled into a fist covering her face. Slowly I slide off the chair and crawl over to her on the ground.
"Clove, Clove look at me," I plead hoarsely. I can't stand the sight of her like this, the girl who is always so strong so broken. When she fails to reply I cautiously reach out to her. With the ferocity of a viper her fist slams my hand away and then finds its way to my shoulder. I fall back against the coffee table as she continues to weakly hit me, a tired anger motivating each blow. My hands firmly grab her shoulders, but I let her keep going. She hits and punches and slaps until her sobs make her start to hiccup and she finally falls into my chest and weeps.
Clove's POV
Cato's shirt still smells like rain and roses and my nose is pressed up against a bit of the pasta sauce he dripped on his shirt at dinner and I know he wants to cry but won't. What did we ever do? What awful terrible sin did we commit to deserve this? How can I kill again if I can't even refrain from crying about the possibility of having to do so? There is also the awful chance that I mentor but Cato is reaped. What will I do then? I want to sleep. That's all I want right now is to sleep. I'm tired of the restless nights and the nightmares that now don't end when I wake up. Now there is the prospect of Cato not being beside me when my eyes open in the dark, his side of the bed cold and desolate. I cry into his chest until my eyes dry and I'm left with nothing but painful hiccups that make me sound like a pathetic little girl. After the sun has set outside and it has once again started to rain, he lifts me up and looks me in the eyes. His blue eyes are rimmed with redness and his cheeks are still wet from his silent tears. He lifts my chin up with a gentle touch, his expression hardens into grim determination.
"Clove," he whispers harshly, "we're going to be okay. Everything is going to be just fine, we're both going to make it." I search his eyes with a futile hope that what he says is true.
"How can you possibly know that?" I ask, my voice barely audible. His chest falls as a sigh escapes his lips. His jaw tightens in resolution and there is a sense of purposefulness behind his cold, icy eyes. When he doesn't answer, I slowly pull myself onto my feet. My body is tense from my outpouring of emotions, but my mind has moved on from angst to anger. Cato remains motionless on the ground, his eyes gazing at something not there. I glance at him once more before making the climb upstairs to the bedroom. The cold tile of the bathroom floor is a welcomed feeling that somewhat counteracts the hot and jaded anger coursing through my veins sluggishly. I silently lap cold water onto my red and blotchy face, wiping away all traces of the salty wetness that had nearly dried. My hair crackles with static when I run the brush through it. I become rigid when I hear the sound of slow and lumbering footsteps behind me. Instinctively I whirl around and slam the hairbrush into the threat. Cato yelps with shocked pain and grabs my wrist, forcing the brush out of my hands. It clatters to the floor, leaving a heavy silence that is discontinued by my heavy breathing. Without saying a word, Cato lets go of me and begins to ready himself for bed. I quickly walk out of the bathroom, trying to calm down. After exchanging my clothes, still damp from the rain, for my warm pajamas, I crawl into bed and pull the covers up over my head. Eventually I feel Cato enter the bed beside me, but I remain quiet and motionless.
In the still night, I begin to think about what this Quarter Quell has the potential to do. It has the ability to graciously overlook my love and I, but it also has the likely option to shatter our hearts and separate us forever. Scenarios play relentless in my head, some leaving me hopeful of a happy ending to this nightmare, and others watering the seed of despair that has already been planted inside of me.
There you have it! As I mentioned, the next chapter will contain more of the plot line. I was aiming at making this chapter purely emotional. I'm sorry this is terrible as my writing muscles have not been exercised for too long! Please leave a review or PM me if have any comments/questions/concerns. It feels good to write again, so you can expect more updates to be fit in between my travels. I hope you all enjoyed, au revoir until we meet again! :)
