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Clove's POV
I hold the pencil gently, as if I could accidently break it with anymore pressure. I would hate myself if I broke it, it's my only one. It's precious, the only part of me that isn't Career. My parents don't know about it, I can't even bring myself to tell my Mother, even though I know that she would love my drawings. She thinks art is a gift and anyone who can make it is more talented than even the strongest warriors.
I begin my sketch without knowing what I am going to draw. As I draw the pencil seems to glide by itself, without my mind telling it to. I draw a silhouette of a house on the left side, small and tattered, while on the other side is a tall, tidy looking one. I sketch a narrow road between them and add a sunset peaking above the pavement. It's missing something.
I put the end of my pencil in my mouth, biting at the wood. Suddenly it's back on the paper, sketching a tall figure. Big, with broad shoulders and light hair. After I've drawn the face I look at it and realise; the blue eyes, the cocky grin. Subconsciously, or maybe not, I don't even know. I've drawn Cato. The worst thing is, I've made it look beautiful.
I must show Mother. I skim through my sketchpad, ripping out the drawings that aren't quite right and tossing them in the bin.
Once I'm finished my feet pad down the stairs. I feel a wave of excitement, but also nervousness about showing my Mother what I've been keeping from her all these years.
I get to the bottom of the stairs and walk with a spring in my step. A huge grin on my face.
I walk around the sofa to where my Mother is lying.
A scream forces itself out of my throat.
Cato's POV
I take off my jacket and use it as a hood to shield myself from the pouring rain. I should've stayed in the Academy for longer, just for shelter, but I'd already been their six hours to make up for not going the last two weeks. As my mind wanders I accidently step in a large puddle, water shooting up and splashing all the way to my thighs as I curse loudly.
I continue to walk briskly, I'm only about three roads from the Victor's Village when I spot someone huddled against a wall. Their clothes are limp, stuck to skin and their dark hair drips as their body shakes.
I try to continue walking, but something in the back of my mind tells me to stop and see what's happened. Only out of pure curiousity of course, not because I actually care.
As I step closer they lift their head up. I can't help but stumble back slightly as I see Clove looking up at me, her eyes red with tears, nose running and her lips shivering. At first I have no idea how to react; Clove has always been the one girl I thought would never cry, just out of pure pride. But here she is, sobbing loudly, her face a mix of pain and emptiness.
I turn and sit down beside her, not particularly caring about how much more soaked I am getting by the second. I'm not good with words, never have been, so I just gently move her her head to rest on my chest. She cries into it, her whole body racked with sobs.
"She's dead."
I tilt her chin up for her to face me. "Who's dead?" I ask in a tone as soft as I can muster.
"Mum. I went downstairs to show her m-my drawings and she was l-lying there with blood pouring out of her mouth." She says the last bit in a whisper, as if the words were bringing her physical pain. "Stomach cancer; she never told us. She's dead Cato!" Clove shouts angrily, pounding her fists on my chest.
"It's okay." That's all I can think to say.
"Of course it's not okay, you complete arsehole!" She replies, pushing me away from her. "I have no one!"
"You have your Father."
"He's in District 1 for a year. He'll come back for her..." She closes her eyes. "Her funeral. Then he'll be gone. He said he won't leave me, but I know it." Shock courses through me, he couldn't just leave her? I know my parents hate me but if one of them died we'd go through it together, that's the unspoken rule of family, isn't it? It wasn't the same for my sister though. "He said he's getting back in three days."
"What are you going to do then?" I ask angrily.
"I don't know." She replies, tears welling up in her eyes again.
"I can't just leave you on the street." I look around slightly and sigh. "You're going to have to stay in my house."
"Cato I can't-"
"No, that's final." I reply, more irritably than I meant to.
She looks into my eyes for the first time ever, with a look of almost admiration. Her eyes are a deep brown, glittering through tears. "Thank you."
"It's okay." I stand up. "Let's get going."
Clove's POV
"You can have the bigger room and I'll take the spare." Cato says, making the bed and throwing rogue socks into the laundry basket.
His room is not as I had expected. It's not obnoxious with bright patterns and a huge king sized bed for him and his... friends with benefits. The room is quite plain; with white-wash walls and plain black bed sheets. The only thing that represents Cato is a huge sword hanging up on his wall.
He catches me looking at it. "President Snow sent it to me about a week after the games." He says bitterly. "He said it's a 'gift' for me to remember my courage in the games. To be honest, all I really remember when I look at it is that I killed my sister with it."
"That's kind of sick." I reply matter-of-fact.
"Yeah well, whatever."
He shuffles awkwardly; it must be difficult for him to have even stayed being nice for the hour he has been. "It's getting late, you should probably go to sleep."
"I'm not tired." I counter.
Cato raises his eyebrows. "Okay then, but I'm going to bed so, night." He replies, walking out of the room and shutting the door without a second glance.
He really doesn't get it.
I walk over to the bed, smelling the fresh sheets. They smell a lot more, almost sterile, than my musty bed sheets at home. As I think of home a new stream of tears begin to flow, but I shake my head. Pull yourself together, he's seen you cry, he thinks you're weak.
I realise I have brought no clothes, not even a momento from home with me, so I strip out of my soaking clothes and climb into the covers in my underwear. I stare at the ceiling, my head pounding with thoughts of my Mother, lying still and dead somewhere that isn't home. I turn around and bury my head in the pillow, crying as loud as I want, the pillow muffling it to almost no sound.
After a while my eyes feel so heavy they drift closed, plummeting me into an empty blackness.
I hope you liked it! I attempted a plot twist! I tried to show a more sensitive side to both of them, even though we all know Cato isn't very good at that sort of thing.
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