Chapter 3

My mother found me passed out on the decking. She woke me and spoke quietly with concern. "Get up before your father sees you" she said, picking up my clothes. My little sister stood watching as I pulled myself up, putting my weight on just one leg and keeping my hand on the wall to steady myself. "Have you been crying?" my mother asked looking into my red eyes. I didn't say anything but tried to seem calm and collected.

"Cato, what's wrong?" My sister asked with her hands folded over on another in front of her with a contorted look of concern.

"Cato's just tired." My mother said to her. "He'll be just fine. Go inside and play." She obliged, skipping happily through the glass doors. She checked to see if my father was nearby. When the coast was clear, she exuding a relieving sigh then looked into my eyes. Her gaze was stern; face like stone.

I tore away from her locked eyes. "I'm going to shower" I said. She grabbed my arm. He grip was strong and rigid like a vice but I could feel a pain from within her. When she touched me, that stern look on her face look became a look of worry.

"You can't let him see you like this." She said. Her voice was still strong and demanding. "Training is hard. I know. I went through it." I had no clue that my mother had been a training career. I was frozen by the shock of more revelations, my mind swarming with ponder. I tried to speak but she cut me off, refusing to open up. "Not now" she said and I nodded. I was released from her grip and walked into the house, but she remained outside. I was concerned for her, so I went back to check on her. She stood straight with alarm when she saw me; made herself stone again, but there was crack, I could see it. She commanded that I go back inside. I walked past my father heading up stairs.

"Why aren't you wearing any clothes?" he asked.

"Been training." I replied bluntly without pause.

"So you're feeling better?" He asked again.

"Much better" I lied. He immediately became pleased and receded back to the living room with a jolly stride. I took a long shower, letting the hot water fall over my body. I stood there, thinking. Why didn't I know she was a training Career? Why hasn't she told me before? I had never been close with either of parents. I wasn't one to pester for answers about their life, but this meant I had questions to be answered. My mother and I now shared something that I couldn't share with my father. Perhaps she understood the position I was and the fear that I was feeling; the torture on my mind and my body. I didn't know how long she was training for but hoped she reached the same stage as me so that I could talk to her about it. I needed advice on how to deal with the idea that I was being trained to kill. It was inhumane and my body defending itself from the notion like fighting off disease by shutting down. I was terrified that I might be chosen as the next career. That thought induces fear in the mind and everything becomes irrationalised. I was convinced that I would be the next tribute.

"You still may not be chosen." Theo tried to convince me. I rang him as soon as I got out of the shower.

"I'm exactly what they want." I said.

"You're not a monster." He said to me.

"I didn't say I was a monster."

"No, but that's what they want. To them, the villain is the hero, and you can't be a villain if you're scared of it."

"But that's what they do. They change you, they make sure that you're not scared." My blood was pumping faster and my breathing heavier. Fear was coursing through my body once more.

"So hold onto it, Cato. Be afraid. It's what keeps you human. It's what stops you from being the villain." A silence fell over the phone. I had to embrace my fear. Not stop it or stand against it. "Go talk to your mother, she'll know better than I do what you're going through."

"Thanks, Theo" I said.

"No problem. I'm always here for you." I hung up the phone and put on some joggers and t-shirt. I went into my wooden box in the wardrobe and pulled Finnick's piece of ivory cloth. I wrapped it around my wrist and tied it tightly. It used to be a comforter, but now it was a terror inducer. I envisioned that this simple piece of cloth was capable of keeping my fear as fear and not anger. When I opened my bedroom door, my sister was standing in front of it, her hands folded over one another again, the same concerned look on her face.

"Is Cato ok now?" She asked me.

"I'm fine." I replied and crouched down to her height.

"I have a question" she said so I nodded for her to speak. "Why aren't I training to be a Career?" She asked. She was 7. Two years had passed since she was eligible to be entered and not once had it crossed my mind as to why my parents hadn't entered her into for training. Maybe it was because I had gotten to the second stage, had surpassed my brother and they thought it not necessary. Perhaps my father thought she wouldn't make a good company face. She couldn't show the strength and power that I could to represent a gym. I assumed it was both; because of my success, they didn't offer her up as a sacrifice. I felt relieved, however, realising that she was safe. It was likely that she would ever make it into the games. If she ever was chosen to be tribute, a career would volunteer instead of her. Of course, some years we don't send in career at all if the trainers feel nobody is worthy of it or if someone does not volunteer like they were supposed to, but that was very rare. The appeal of being a victor was great these days and there is always someone in these brutal districts to offer themselves up to a life of death and misery.

"It's because you're their favourite" I lied to her. "They didn't enter you because you're too special to them." I bright white smile stretched across her face. Then it turned into a frown.

"Do they not like you?" She asked.

"Not as much as they like you." I said and she smiled again. I stood up and she took the sign to leave and skipped back into her room. I now had more questions to ask. My father was still confined to the living room. It was unlikely that he would come out until dinner so I had an opportunity to talk to my mother, alone.

The walk to the kitchen became immensely daunting. It felt as though my steps were trivial, like every time I placed my foot down the door travelled further away. Battling against the escaping destination, I made it into the kitchen with a beating heart that screamed to be calmed. Never had I opened up to my parents. I was always distant from them. I considered myself an outcast within the house, though not shunned; just not understood. But all pariahs seek company and to relate. You see, Loneliness can be torture.

My mother looked at me with the same stern face she had earlier, only showing more concern now that before.

"Why didn't you tell me you were in training?" I wasted no time. Instead I let the fear take me and I sputtered out my question, fumbling at Finnick's ivory cloth with my other hand.

"Because I know how hard it is, and I didn't want to put any more pressures onto you." But this knowledge wasn't a pressure, it was a relief I thought.

"I want to know more." I stated and she nodded, put down the chopping knife in her hand and leaned on the kitchen worktop.

"There's not much to know. Your grandparents entered me for training and I wasn't chosen for the final selection, hence why I am here today."

"But didn't you think that this knowledge would have helped me. Knowing that you've felt what I am feeling is a relief because now I have someone to relate to." I couldn't understand why she didn't see that. She shook her head.

"This information isn't going to help you, Cato. I wasn't strong enough to be chosen, but you are. You have the potential to be a victor. But this just gives you more goals to surpass. I know how you feel, yes. You put pressure on yourself to be the best, to make sure that you get to be the one to gain all the glory that victory offers, and that is enough motivation. More than that and it can just discourage you, and I didn't want to do that." All the world around me all of a sudden became bleak. She didn't understand at all what I was going through. She didn't understand that I was afraid. She didn't understand that I didn't want this. She just thinks that I'm being conscientious and that I'm stressed. We couldn't relate, and once again I felt an outcast. My body felt as though it was being tugged by an invisible tether to leave, to escape before this lonely torture consumed my fear struck body.

I collected myself as my usual mind took my emotions and channelled them into anger like it usually does, tried to suppress all emotions. I had more questions that needed answers.

"Why haven't you entered Naomi for training?" I asked. I heard the kitchen door open and my father walk in.

"Because she is a girl. The games are no place for my daughter" he said.

"She can't handle the training." My mother said and continued cutting vegetables, handing the floor over to my father.

"Why does her being a girl make a difference?" I asked.

"Don't be so stupid. She's not like you, strong and fierce. I am appalled that they let women in the games. Such hostility is for men only." My father said. I knew he had sexist observations of the world, but this angered me. Naomi was strong and kind. Being born female isn't a weakness, nor is it a strength. It is but who you are.

"There have been plenty of women win the games." I said.

"Not in recent years." My father answered back. "The last time a woman won was…the year before Finnick Odair won. Since then it has been just men and that's because Career training has made the men stronger and women can never face up to that. Look at you, Cato. You're strong and powerful and mighty. No female could take down you."

"Strength isn't everything, and there are plenty of girls who can overcome that. Intelligence is key to victory, not brutal force." I said. I saw anger paint across my father's face in the same way it would painted my own.

"Why are you asking us this?" he said through clenched teeth.

"I was curious…I wanted to know." I replied.

"You believe your sister should be in the games?" He spoke intensely before I had even finished my sentence. "You want to turn into Gloss and Cashmere; brother and sister victors? You would jeopardise the safety of your sister?" My mother remained out of the discussion.

"That's not what I'm saying at all." I shouted back.

"You dare to raise your voice at me? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" He said with his chest puffed out.

"What are you on about? You're jumping to irrational conclusions. I don't want Naomi to compete. I never did. I wanted to know why she wasn't entered after you entered both of you other children!" My body was warm with anger. My suppression was failing.

"Well now you've had your answer." My father said, quick and sharp.

"So if you had another son, you would enter him for training?" I asked.

"The games is what every man aspired to win. Victory is a true statement of a man's worth." The words could not be comprehend in my mind. Life is about more than proving your strength. Being a man did not mean confinement to brutality. I was about to speak out further as I felt my rage call for a release, but my father stopped me. "I want to hear no more of this discussion." After a silence that was weighed down with heavy tensions, I left the room. I was about to head upstairs but I was shaking for a release. Any more heavy training could seriously damage my muscles, so instead I left for a walk to subside myself.

As I walked around the town square, that was calmer than usual but still full of people, I thought of how alone I was. I got answers to my questions but now I was more lost than ever. My mother and I had a link in career training, but her own perceptions of it just made the void between us greater than anything. Both of them were blind. The shadow of the Capitol had corrupted them both and now they misunderstood me, and what worried me was that I felt closer to my brother because of this. I was seeing in them what he sees. More than ever did I want to forfeit my participation in training, and I would have done so, if it wasn't for the damage it would bring on my family by the unspoken societal expectations. Naomi would be the sister of a coward and drunken reject who would soon obtain the title of a misfit and be harshly judged. What would Brutus do if his favourite pupil were to quit? What wrath would that bring? I just hoped that someone proved better than I and that they could succeed as victor over me. It would ideal to have no victors and no deaths, but this was the best thing that reality could perhaps offer.

My walk had taken me from the town square to denser, more urban areas that were formed from shops and homes. I was so deep in thought that I couldn't hear my name being called. I was startled when I felt a firm grip on my arm.

"Cato. You okay?" the person said. I stared at him for a moment, confused as to who he was. Then I realised it was Abel. He was also in career training with me. I hardly interacted with him but we always acknowledged one another.

"Abel, hey." I said slowly, wondering why he felt the need to stop me.

"Are you ok?" he asked me. I nodded.

"Just fine." I said and looked into his narrow green eyes. He didn't look convinced.

"What are you doing wandering about? I saw you an hour ago walking about at the square and now you're here." I hadn't realised how long I had been out for. I wasn't fine and that was evident, so I didn't try to dissuade his thought.

"Just needed to think" I answered. He nodded in acknowledgment, understanding that I didn't want to be pushed further.

"I'm heading to Clove's party. You wanna come?" He asked me. Clove and I weren't particularly close. She wanted to compete in the games and made that known to everyone. It discouraged me from pursuing a friendship with her, but we were both in the same ocean, and she was tolerable. Plus, I hadn't been to the centre in days and suddenly, being with Abel comforted me. I fell back in my habitat being with him. The ghosts of the training centre followed me once more. It was scary, that the training centre was again becoming my comfort, but as Theo said, that fear is what will keep me human. So I embraced it and followed it to the party.