We started walking the two miles to Capital foods. The sun is setting and it is truly a beautiful sight. We walk in silence for a while, both enjoying the peacefulness of district 2. After a while of silence Cato starts talking. "So Clove, how long have you been throwing knifes?" He asks still staring straight ahead. I met his gaze and followed it. I found out he was looking at a bird flying high in the sky. Not having to worry about training or the games.
"I have been throwing for two years." I say still watching the bird. He smiles a half smile. "What are you smirking about?" I ask in a confused tone. He looks at me with childlike eyes.
"I just remember seeing you throw when you just began. You missed a lot and it made you frustrated. I could just tell by the tear in your eyes when you missed." He says as his voice starts to drift off. I turn away as I start to blush. What he said is so true. Careers don't cry so I don't cry anymore. When I first began throwing I would miss and it would frustrate me to the point of tears. After a few misses the frustration grew to the point where I couldn't hold the tears in anymore.
"Yeah it was hard at first. I mean learning a new skill that could save you one day is frustrating." I say. "I got over the crying quickly though." I say as I look down at the ground. I had to get over it. If I started crying my instructor would hit me. They didn't hit me once they hit me until I stopped, and sometimes that would take a while. They made it seem like it was part of the training. Like it was Ok, but I knew it wasn't because sometimes they would go too far. I would go home bleeding profusely and sometimes even a broken bone.
"Yeah I know you got over it quickly." He says slowly. I snap my head up and look at him. He looks back at me with sad eyes. "I knew your trainer hit you. They aren't supposed to, but they did. They get mad easily and push people past their limits, but hitting is something they didn't usually do." I look at him in disbelief. "I have a few scars from my trainers getting mad, and I know you do too." He says cautiously.
"How do yo-"Is all I manage to say before he cuts me off.
"I was there the day yours threw a knife at you." I feel my heart stop. "I remember that it hit your upper arm and you fell to the ground, crying and clutching your arm. You lost a lot of blood from it." He says slowly. "I really wanted to help you, but my trainer said if I got into it I would end up just like you. It scared me to the point I didn't help. I always remembered you as the girl who could throw knife with deadly accuracy, but also as the little girl lying on the ground, crying and bleeding until you passed out." He says. I close my eyes and think back to the day it happened. I was having one of those days where I couldn't throw well at all. My trainer had enough of me and he started screaming at me. This caused me to start crying. This made my trainer even madder. After a while he had enough of me. He grabbed a knife from the table and threw it at me. I moved out of the way quickly, but not quick enough. I felt the blade slice through my arm as the blood started gushing out. I touched my arm where the scar is. I keep it under a bandage, because I can't stand looking at it. I never saw that trainer after the incident, but I never wanted to. I closed my eyes as the tears started to well up in my eyes. I dropped my head and watched the tears hit the ground. Cato must have been watching me because I felt his arms around me.