Date: September 26th
Date of reaping: October 26th
Cato's POV:
I had lost control, and was somewhere on the line between hatred and insanity. Maybe I heard her scream for me to stop, maybe I knew she was there in the back of my mind, but when I had realized it, it was too late. My fist crashed into her face, though it wasn't my strongest blow, it was enough to knock clove over. She was silent, not dead, her subtle breathing pattern echoed through the now silent room as she stood up, her hand placed carefully over her left eye, and vanished into the crowd.
I was a monster.
I was the monster that had kept her up so many nights, that left her uncountable scars and wounds that would never heal. I hurt her, and I had promised not to. Should I follow her, but that would show weakness. But to stay here would be to lose her, but be feared. I glanced around the arena, though I showed no sign of distress or confusion. Maybe she would forgive me, but following her right now would be a set up to get attacked.
I'll stay away.
I look back at Archer; his smirk was appallingly obvious, maybe just to dig that knife of his whisper in a bit more, a way to say, "I told you so." I glared at him, making his smile fade slowly. "Well than…" Varius said, making the silence shatter like fine pottery on a metal floor, putting aside the fact that Clove would have a black eye because of me. I roll my eyes and leave the arena, heading back towards my house, not bothering to check out. I was done for the day, no matter how close to the reaping, I was angry, but at whom? Clove hadn't done anything, but she interfered with the fight, and I could've handled it by myself, right? So it was really her fault, I did nothing wrong.
-Later that day-
How long had Clove been sitting there, next to a pond that hid in a thicket of trees that no one thought much of. The brunette was pulling the petals off of flowers, throwing them in the water by the handful to see small fish surface and nibble at the edges, deciding whether or not to eat them. Every once and a while, she would pick up the apple and knife that sat besides her, carving a piece off and eating it slowly.
Slowly and carefully, I took a large step back knowing that when she was going out of her way to be alone, she was angry. SNAP, a large twig cracked in half under my weight, and I instinctively ducked behind a tree, knowing that Clove wasn't very friendly when taken by surprise. Sure enough, there was a thump, from the tree behind me, when sought after revealed her knife-sticking straight out, where my heart would've been if I hadn't moved.
She stays silent as I come out from the tree, automatically taken back by how quickly her eye has flourished into a mixture of blue, purple, and a smoky greyish brown. She turned away after making eye contact, obviously not too excited to see me out of anyone else in the world.
"Sorry that I punched you," I said quickly, taking a couple timid steps towards her, but settling a yard or two backs, just in case she still had a knife on her. Clove took a deep breath, not responding at all but obviously hearing me. "So you're gonna give me the silent treatment now? You know it was your fault, coming into the ring like that; you were bound to get hurt, so this isn't even my fault. You're acting like a total wimp right now." I spat out, regretting it quickly.
I heard her scrape her nails against a rock, where her knife used to lay, but upon not finding it, she whipped her body around while standing up. "You are such a goddamn asshole, Cato!" she shouts at me, pushing me back, strong for someone of her size. "All you think about is yourself and being stronger than everyone else, seriously Cato, do you think of anyone outside of your damn life?" She huffed, now breathing hard while making eye contact with me. In the old and low quality movies that played on some channels on my television, this would be the part where I kissed Clove, realized that we were meant to be, but in the glorious movie of life in Panem, this was that moment where she pushed past me, threatening to never talk to me again.
Clove's POV:
'Don't Cry you damn baby,' is the only thought that runs through my head as I shove Cato out of my way and moved towards the towns square, my tears quickly turning into pure rage as I crash through the final area of brush. Leaving any thoughts of liking or forgiving Cato behind.
I wasn't mad at him for punching me, I could take it, it was more how he responded, saying I was weak. No, I was strong, the strongest girl in the district, especially so despite my size. But no one would ever notice that, I was just the little girl with the knives, the one that people feared. I was the one with the always-drunk father who had one the games and the timid mother who had never done something for her. I was the one with two younger siblings that didn't know well from bad, I was just like anyone else.
"Clove!" I hear a high pitch voice squeal, one that belonged to my younger sister, who would be followed closely by her twin brother, "Azalie, Oren, shouldn't you two be in training?" I ask, knowing they had always had too much energy to pay attention to those lessons.
"We saw you get punched and came home, but you weren't here, so we ate a sandwich, and found a lizard, and now you're here," Oren said quickly, him always having more of a timid disposition compared to Azalie.
I shook my head, "You guys have to always train, it's your first year in the reaping, although the odds are very slim, you could still get chosen, you have one month to prove that you could be a victor, ok?" I say, trying to get them to understand that they have to be stronger, but the two simply nod and run off towards the mud in our backyard.
"Dinner will be soon!" I call after them, noticing that the sun is going down at this point, reminding me that I skipped lunch entirely as I walk into the house, sitting down on the new couch and leaning my head back. The capitol group would be arriving soon too make this place look nicer, get my father geared up for the next hunger games, make him look presentable.
"Clover, go get you father for me please?" my mother shouts from the kitchen, obviously wanting his help with something, though his drunk hands wouldn't be able to do anything for her, yet I still nod and walk upstairs to his office, stopping at the door and being hit by the smell of whiskey and rum. "Dad, mom wants your help with something." I tell him in a tone that says, 'get-your-ass-up-you-drunk-failure.'
The man looks at me, his sunken blue eyes that reflect mine, "what happened to you, you look worse than usual," he slurs, lazily motioning towards my eye. I don't bother to answer, knowing that the twins would talk about it during dinner, so I had no need to explain. I hastily turn towards the door with a grimace, "Alright, Grumpy, I'm coming, no need to get your hair in a knot," he hollers after me, before finishing his drink and waddling down the stairs in a fashion so that he wouldn't fall.
It's a large meal tonight, bread and a kind of stew that my mother puts together when the training hours become longer. Our glasses are each filled with an indistinguishable muck that seems to move on it's own and shines a bright yellow when you get through the top layer of a mucky brown. "Gross!" Azalie screams as she enters through the back door with Oren, both completely covered in mud. My mother looks like she's about to blow a circuit, but calmly tells them to clean up as my father enters the room with a chuckle, not even bothering to make a drunk, yet sarcastic remark about my mothers cooking as the family sits down to eat.
"So Clover," He begins, adding the "r" to the end just to see my muscles tense up, "Tell us on how you managed to get a black eye, another stupid training error that left you unconscious, I can tell you that you wouldn't last an hour in the games," I stab my knife into the table, my face twisting into an odd kind of smile and glare, "How would you know, you were passed out next to a bottle the whole time." I hiss back at him, twisting my knife to create a hole before yanking it out. He rolls his eyes, leaning back in a chair, "Ohh, you're so scary with your knife, I'm just trembling."
I launch forward, pinning the knife to his neck, "Say something else, I dare you!" I scream, my brother and sister watching in horror as my father pushes away the knife and drags himself away, "All you've ever been was a disappointment," he called back to me.
