Chapter 9 – Call for Help
The very first instinct I get is to run to the phone and ring the doctor, only, no phone kind of ruins that idea. And even if I had a phone, who would I ring? I even don't know who the doctor is here. I don't know a bloody thing here. And now, that lack of idea might cost my boyfriend's life. I don't need to put my fingers to his neck to check for life, I can clearly see his chest rising in a jagged motion. I'm just not sure how long that life will hold him for, it looks too exaggerated for anything less than severe pain.
I squeeze his hand, as if that will somehow encourage his unconscious body to hold on for a little longer. And, to ameliorate the anxiety building up inside of me just enough so I can think clearly. His huge hands against mine has always had that effect. The rough feeling of them would usually deter others, but to me it is like a lullaby calling me closer. It gives him character. It's honest, it shows what he does in career.
"I'm going out to find help, and when I come back with it, you better not be dead." I whisper. "You're not going to leave me here by myself. Not now." I say, raising my voice as it succumbs into feelings. With that, I drop his hand and force myself up, away from him and toward the door. All the time worrying that he is going to die without me to be there by his side, or anyone.
I open the door and sprint. I don't even bother to put my shoes back on. Every second that slips by is crucial now. My body shivers as each leaping step chills me to the core. I don't know where to go. I don't know what to do! He is going to die on me all because I can't find a doctor. I grunt in frustration as I use the anger inside of me to exert me more. Each step is no longer a stride nor a leap but instead a jump. My feet are barely touching the ground at all. If I was a little lighter I would literally be soaring.
By the time my feet have reached the brick paths of the streets my feet have gone completely numb, and feel like dead weight to the rest of my body. I run to the very first door and knock like crazy. After twenty seconds of knocking I give up on that house. Time is off the essence. Now more so than ever. So I result to strategy two.
"Help!" I scream at the top of my lungs. The only response is the echoing cry of a girl, who from her voice I can tell she is at risk at losing it all. At any moment now. "Someone please!" I cry.
The denunciation of the silence is deafening. It is painful. It is torturous. It is the angered response of negligence.
"Please someone! Anyone!" Desperation clings to my words like death to a corpse. That is when I am suddenly aware of the song 'Seven Devils' by Florence and the machine playing through my head. I am not sure how long it has been going, it is all but a distant hum, but now when there is nothing but silence hums, whether close or distant sound like screaming. Seven devils all around you.
"Help, please!" I repeat, but the response is always the same. It seems as if the world is punishing me. Seven devils in your house… I whimper. I am not going to let anyone take away Cato. I will destroy the devils. But I need an angel to do so. "Help me!" See I was dead when I woke up this morning, and I'll be dead before the day is done. I can see Cato before me now, his chest inflating and deflating. The rhythm is dying. And so is he.
I do not bother to wipe my tear scarred face. I know if Cato dies today, inside, I will die too.
Before the day is done…The haunting song is only making me more terrified of the repercussions of the situation if I fail my task. I will lose him. Forever. I push the satanic thought out of my mind. "Someone! Anyone! Please!" I yell again.
My body feels compelled to fall to the ground, in a crumpled defeated pile. However my heart nor my brain will give up that easily. No, I have never been the one to quit, and there is no way I am about to start now. Not on the one I love. So torn between two sides my body is paralysed. The only thing that tells me I am still alive is the shivering sensation of the cold intermixing with the trembling of fear.
"Clove!" I stand bewildered. Was it just my imagination or had I actually heard a response? "Clove!" I hear again. The voice was angelic enough already but against the background of the nefarious silence it was so much more than divine. So much more than miraculous.
The footsteps sound rushed as they near me. I try to open my mouth in response but the words die in my throat.
"Clove what's wrong?!" I try again, but it only comes out as a tiny whisper. If the situation was less serious the irony could almost be humorous. Here I was trying to find help so desperately but when the chance finally reveals itself I choke. Time… time. You're running out of it.
"It's Cato! He… he needs a doctor," My words are stuttered but at least understandable. "Please help me, I-I don't know what to do!" The figure grabs my wrist with such strength and urgency in it, yet somehow it is still comforting. I'm glad he doesn't ask me any more questions, I don't know if I would have been able to answer without collapsing.
Before I know it he is sprinting, his hand still wrapped around my wrist like I was the only link between him and the dissipating world, but really it was the contrariwise. Whether he knew it or not, the life was escaping me, and he was the rope to my salvation. He was holding me above that very world which was fading all too quickly.
My vision is languishing. Sight is succumbing to darkness. I am becoming less and less aware of my surroundings. As far as I know I am in a completely different dimension to everyone. I have left this world.
I am only vaguely cognisant of an imperative knocking and the exigent discussion which follows.
"Clove?" By now my vision is almost gone completely. And I am more than ready to relinquish myself over to the obscurity. "Clove!" Yet I can't. I am getting drawn to the boy's cries like a siren's call. His voice so alluring yet I know the world outside of this darkness is far too dangerous for me. "Clove!" But, I have no resistance to the charm. I feel myself being propelled back to the normal world, I see my vision returning. And faces around me coming to visualisation. Over me, I see the crinkled face of a worried lady. To the left of me there was Peeta's masculine face. And to the right? Two familiar faces: Katniss and Prim. What were they doing here?
"Okay, so Clove what's wrong?" The lady says, her voice soothing.
"Cato… he was stabbed." I see the eyes of Katniss grow.
"Where is he now?" She continues to question.
"At… at my house." I stumble. I try to get up but falter and fall back down.
"It's okay I know where she lives. I can take you." Peeta says. He knows where I live? I push away the question. I must have told him while I was working.
"Okay, Prim can you grab the medical supplies bag and Katniss can you take care of Clove, she is obviously disoriented and should not be left alone until she feels better." Despite the situation I am in, just hearing that I am going to be left with Katniss is enough to make me sick to the stomach. Prim rushes off and comes back with a green bag the size of a briefcase. And just like that the three are gone and I am left with the devil. But if that's the price I must pay then pay I shall.
For a moment silence is all that is heard. And I am brought back to the icy cold streets of District twelve where desperation seeped through my cries of help. I shiver from the thought.
"You should lay on the couch. Take it from me; it's much more comfortable than the ground." Her words take me by surprise. I look up to see her hand reaching down toward me. With caution I grab it. I am half expecting her to let go in mid-lift or say 'jokes'. So when she doesn't I am almost mind blown. As if to screw with my mind even more she helps me stagger over to the couch. As soon as I am lying down, she opens her mouth again. "Would you like a hot drink or something to eat?". I shake my head. I don't understand what's happening here.
"Why are you being nice to me? I thought you hated me?" I say, my words have now lost the stutter and as clear as day. I guess my mind is happy for the distraction.
"You are in my house; it is tradition to treat visitors like a guest. I don't have to like you to be courteous." There it was. That was what I've been expecting.
"Mmm. Anyway how do you afford such a glamorous home? I thought District twelve was famous for their poverty?"
"Typical pretentious response of a district two citizen" I frown. I was sick of being classed as 'pretentious'.
"You're avoiding the question."
"Oh please, like you don't know." I furrow my eyebrows. What did she mean?
"Why the hell would I know?" I say anger weaving in and out of the words.
"Huh. I guess in the lapdog district they brainwash you when one of the puny outlined districts win." Suddenly it all makes sense. Why she had looked so familiar, why she had so much money and why she had such an amazing house. She was a victor. My mouth falls slightly agape. I don't remember that much from the seventy-fourth, I had only seen one airing of it and that she had won. I hadn't even bothered to go to the victory tour that year. I was too depressed from my dad trying to kill me…
I am literally speechless. What am I meant to say to that?
"Well you should get some sleep. Your boy toy is in good hands."
"My what?!" I say, shocked that she would even think that.
"You heard me."
"I have a lot of things on my mind other than sex thank you very much." I bite.
"Sure you do." She stands up and makes her way to the hallway. "Well I'm going to my room. If there is anything you need just yell." I nod my head still infuriated that she would call him my boy toy. She disappears around the corner only momentarily before poking her head around the corner. "And you never denied that sex wasn't on your mind…" I scowl at her before throwing my pillow at her. Sadly, it misses. Just. The only thing that lets me know she is departing is the quieting of the laughter as she steps away.
I close my eyes. Maybe I should get some sleep. There is no point lying here fretting about the worst case scenario, and after all sleep is the best escapism, right? Just as my body is submitting to the peaceful hold of slumber a vibrating sensation in my leg takes me into the restless world of the fully awake. I jolt upwards in surprise. My hand reaches into my pocket and grabs out the small trembling device. I had forgotten all about my phone. I unlock it, before opening kik, a program I hear was once based on a model hundreds of years ago. Straight away the phone trembles in my hand. Athesius has messaged me.
CoolerThanYou28432 – Clove, where have you been? You literally have not been on Kik once the move.
WantToSeeMyKnifeCollection1 – I'm sorry been busy. I have a job now…
My mind wanders with the idea of whether I should tell him about Cato, but after thought I decide against it. I might not be able to escape through sleep, but maybe social networking will be the answer. As if on cue the phone vibrates.
CoolerThanYou28432 – I feel sorry for the hopeless guy who employed you.
I smile. How nice of him.
WantToSeeMyKnifeCollection1 – Well he had no choice. I mean who wants to mess with a girl with knives?
CoolerThanYou28432 – Not me. So what are you working as?
WantToSeeMyKnifeCollection1 – A baker assistant.
CoolerThanYou28432 – You're joking right? I mean have you ever even cooked before?
WantToSeeMyKnifeCollection1 – It's nice to know that my best friend believes in me.
CoolerThanYou28432- Lol, well it's about time you start to appreciate all the things I do for you. =P
I am about to respond when my phone begins to ring. I close Kik and answer the call.
"Hello?" I ask.
"Clove," I breathe a sigh of relief. He isn't dead, thank God. "I just want to let you know that I'm okay."
"Cato! What happened to you?!"
"I'll tell you later, bye." The phone call disconnects. I roll my eyes. I just love how he answers me. With a reluctant body I push myself up from the warm comfort of the couch.
"Katniss, I'm leaving!" I shout.
"Okay are you sure you feel better?" She shouts back.
I nod my head, before realising that she can't see me. Initiating attempt two:
"Yes!" With that I walk out the door. I almost curse when I remember I didn't bring shoes. Great. More cold footed walking. I wince as I feel the freezing snow beneath my feet.
It takes about five minutes of attempted running to get to my house. By the time I got there not only my feet were numb but my legs up to my calves were too. The door was slightly ajar, which was good in my case because I don't believe if it was closed I would be able to have open it. My hands felt frozen, I couldn't move a muscle in it.
My whole body was in a state of convulsion from severe shivering. I couldn't wait to lie next to the fire.
As my feet thudded along the wooden corridor I only felt the slightest bit guilty of the huge puddles of snow I was leaving behind me. But the rest of today's activities were enough to make me see past it.
I find the three of them in the lounge room, mugs in hand, surrounding the central of warmth – otherwise known as the fireplace. I scan the room and as soon as my eyes rest upon Cato I feel a sudden joy building up within. I knew he was alive, I knew he was okay, but for some reason I couldn't really process it until I saw him. Too many times have I been tricked by the dangle of hope and appearances to believe everything I know.
My first instinct is to run over to him and throw my arms around the bulk of muscle I call my boyfriend. But I don't. Cato and I have never been the ones to show our love publically. Of course there has been exceptions – such as Cato's mother and family – but this wasn't one. So instead of playing with lovesick words and concern I go at the subject from a different angle.
"What the hell happened Cato?" I demand.
"What no 'are you okay Cato?'" He says.
"I can see you are just fine. Now tell me what happened."
Cato tells us everything. Around midway through the story I finally sit down next to him. It turns out that he was on duty as a Peacekeeper when he saw a man around the age of twenty-three coming from the other side of the fence dragging a deer. Since hunting is illegal and travelling to the other side of the fence is more than illegal he was going to impeach him. When he told the man to come with him, he stabbed Cato in the gut and ran still lugging his prize. Cato in a state of pain lost his better judgment and trudged home, through the snow. Once he got there he fell on the couch before the fire and blacked out.
What surprises me next is Peeta.
I am just coming back from my bathroom when I hear him.
"You would have died if it wasn't for Clove. She ran out into the streets, no shoes screaming for help. Even when no one was answering she still pushed on. She really does love you." I burst through the door annoyed with such flattery.
"Well you would be dead if it wasn't for Peeta! He was the only person who came. He took me to get Ms Everdeen, and without her you would be dead as well!" I'm not quite sure why I am shouting. But I just can't control it. Maybe this is one form of emotional release from the events of today. I don't know. But whatever it was, it was highly unusual of me.
"Me? Clove I didn't do anything but answer a call. It was you who was the hero."
"All I did was scream! Don't act like you did next to nothing! You are the reason he is alive for crying out loud!" I storm off into my bedroom. I know that Peeta and Ms Everdeen leave shortly after by the sound of departing footsteps. After a little of thinking I was no longer annoyed at Peeta but instead myself. What was happening to me? Why was I losing my grip over Peeta's display of modesty?
I knew the answer.
I came from district two, a district brought up valuing pride and arrogance. I have never come across modesty there before. This was the first time and to be honest I didn't understand the humbleness. What would one have to gain from it? Why would one ever be modest? Perhaps Peeta's value made me realise how far we are away from home. Maybe I was having trouble dealing with the fact that I have left the place where I once had two loving parents who thought of me as nothing short of a miracle.
But either way, I did not understand 'modesty'.
But I know I want to try.
(OOC: Special thanks to my new Beta Reader: Safeandsound12! I appreciate your work :D
Guest -I hope this made it better :)
Guest - Nawww, I'm so glad it did! Because you're review made my mine =D)
