Hey, y'know that Cato POV threeshot I promised you? The first part is up! Go take a look guys!
{-.-}
I'm running through somewhere dark and poorly lit; water sloshes around with every step that I take. It holds me back from running to my full potential as it seems as if it's fighting against me. I'm in a tunnel. I look up as I run and on occasion I see a grate which lets some light down. There's water ankle high everywhere and it appears that this tunnel is straight; I can't see anywhere to run and hide.
What am I running from? I keep on running throughout my panicked thoughts, I don't look back. I can guess that I'm either running from a muttation or a person as I'm in my arena clothes and clutching my axe. I'm obviously expecting some kind of attack imminently. I can't feel the weight of my backpack which means I literally have nothing to survive with. I'm doomed whether I kill or if I don't kill. I fear death so badly here, I don't want to die.
"Come on District 7; let's see what you can do!"
It's Thresh. He booms after me and my pace quickens although I'm already tired and sluggish. How long have I even been running for? After a short sprint my pace suddenly slows as if my body is now working against me too. Everything hates me, everything is urging me to give up and accept my fate. No, I think, no don't slow. I want to go faster but now I hear that voice which entered my thoughts when I was in the forest.
Give up, it says, you're not worth the air you breathe. You're nothing, you deserve nothing. Just die already.
Then I feel it; a stab so painful I scream. I stop running because something is keeping me stuck here. I choke out blood before I look down at my chest to see a sword sticking through it. It's pulled out and I scream even more in pain. Blood is everywhere, leaking into the clear water and changing it into something disgusting. I collapse to the watery floor on my knees before someone walks around to my front. Thresh; with an arrogant smirk that makes me think of Cato. He clutches a bloody sword which looks like his too.
Oh no, please not him.
I scream out, clutching my chest wound together in an attempt to hold onto life. I feel as powerless of Glimmer did when I murdered her in cold blood and watched her suffer. I repent to myself, because everything that I've done here was wrong. I'm cold, I'm nothing and I don't deserve to live. Cato has more reason than me to live. I call out for him in the hope that he's still alive and in some vain attempt to prolong my life further (or so I can die in his arms, my subconscious adds). "Cato! Cato help!" It pains me to shout, and I can feel myself crying.
I'm so weak. I bet my District and my family will be glad to see me dead. There's no way that I deserve to live over anyone else. You're nothing; no-one will miss you.
"He's dead. And soon you will be too." Thresh's voice is cold and heartless and that smirk turns into an expression of pure hate and anger. He hates me, but what for? He raises the sword. Cato's sword. How ironic. So this is how it ends? I hope I feel the pain of being sliced open, I really do. I'll pay for what I've done in that way because that's the least I can do.
I sob like a weakling. A pathetic excuse for a human being. I suddenly beg out again just like the boy from 10 did in his final minutes. I shout with all of my lungs. "Help please, help me!" The pain is unbearable now. Just hurry up and get this over with.
Just before he slams the sword down on my skull, I think I hear a voice beckoning me. Unmistakably, it belongs to Cato. But just what is he saying? It sounds like jibberish but I know he's saying words. Wake up? What does he mean? Thresh seems to ignore it and he slams the sword down on my skull with a gleeful look in his eye.
{-.-}
My eyes jolt open. I'm not dead? I'm in a state of confusion for a few seconds as I try and adjust to my surroundings. The first thing I notice is that something is tight around my head. A bandage maybe. My hair is loose too. I'm not in a tunnel. It's dusk and I'm looking at a metallic wall which is straight ahead and curves round to my right and what I assume to be behind me. The wall stops to my left because a huge part looks onto the rainy clearing and forest, as well as the dimming sky. My eyes move around quickly because I'm scared about what's going on. I could have been captured, tortured by someone and I'm completely unaware. Then, sat a few centimetres away from me is Cato.
He looks tired sat up against the wall of wherever we are. He has a vertical cut where his eyebrow is that looks relatively angry; red and bloodied. It looks like it's just missed his eye. How did I not see this? To be fair, I was completely out of it when he found me; at least I think I was. There's a massive bruise at the corner of his lips, sweeping down onto his chin. His hands lie either side of him and his knuckles are bloodied. Was this all from his fight with Thresh? He has a knife next to him, it looks like he was carving a point from a thick looking branch at some point as there are wood shavings everywhere. The finished product of this spearhead like twig sits between me and him. I'm not sure whether to be worried or not. His sword sits on his other side, propped up against the wall so it's within easy grasp of his right hand. As does my axe, I note.
My own right hand is warm, the other cold and it's chilly. This is by far the coldest it has ever been here in the arena. The small amount of space we share is illuminated by a gasoline lamp which must have been a sponsor gift to him. Either that or he's got his own supplies. I can't see a bag other than mine which is near to the weapons; at the ready for a quick escape.
Cato studies me, my face in particular. He's looking at my bruise and cut and I want to believe that its concern that he looks at me with but that just isn't like him. "Where am I?" My voice quivers. Was I really so affected by whatever just happened? Was it a dream? It must have been, but it felt so real. My chest feels funny, like I have indeed been stabbed.
It's the shock, I tell myself, and it's not every day I die in a dream. Then another voice adds: but it's not every day that you're in the Hunger Games, almost getting killed twice. I don't like the fact that something in my mind is arguing with another part. I am going really crazy.
"In the Cornucopia." He's blunt, to the point and his voice is cold. So much for the concern I thought he looked at me with as it has changed into something completely dismissive and feeling. His eyes travel to the floor a little in front of me as if he wants to avoid my gaze. I should feel happy now that I'm not alone anymore. I should be grateful. I am, but I don't like it when he's this cold. It makes me think that he's done something wrong.
I move my head so I look up at the ceiling but it hurts, the back of my head is very sore and tender. I turn back so I'm on my side before I sit up. I'm covered with my sleeping bag and I'm still cold yet Cato only has his coat, some strange black armour and his t-shirt. He's being so heartless, yet things like him putting the sleeping bag over me really makes me think that he does care in a way. But as I sit up my head feels weird, I feel woozy and everything sways. My ears ring with the sound of flesh being beaten with something from earlier. I suddenly feel sick.
"You alright?" Cato asks. I can't tell whether he's being genuine right at this moment though. He's very hard to read and to be honest, I'd just wish that he could act one way towards me instead of using his many different personalities he seems to possess. There's some sort of mental illness which means that you have many different personalities and that your emotions swing from being happy to sad in seconds. Or are these two separate things?
How do you stop yourself from being sick? He must ask me if I'm alright because I must look pale or something. I hope he does care about me. "Water, I need water."
He looks to where his sword is and to my rucksack. He fumbles for a second through the array of contents like he knows it well. He must have used it quite a lot. He pulls out my flask and undoes one of the tops for me before he passes it over. Our hands connect but I'm too uncaring to notice how he's slightly reluctant to hand me this. In my confusion and somewhat strange state I can't undo the next top as I'm shaking and I don't feel like I can concentrate on anything. I give a cry of frustration before he takes it off me and does that one too. He passes it back to me and I drink a lot of it; gulping it down as if I haven't drunk for days. It was already about three quarters full this morning.
Actually, what day is it?
I finish drinking before I hand it back to him, our hands grazing yet again. "How long have I been asleep?"
"A few hours." Again he's being blunt and rather unreceptive and his tone yet again emotionless. He puts my flask back in my bag before he zips it back up. Just why is he being like this though? I haven't done anything to hurt him and he seemed pretty concerned when I was almost unconscious. Things stop moving a little bit and my vision is weird; blurry in places and things sometimes double up, or triple. I fall back slightly onto another wall. We're in the corner of this space. I think it is the Cornucopia as I can just about see that on the wall are hooks for weapons that have been taken. There's quite literally nothing here other than us though. I focus my eyes on the ground in front of me.
"You've gained a lot of injuries since the last time I saw you." He sighs and his voice has softened a little. Either he wants to try and be social (not very likely) or he wants to find out what's happened to me.
He cares.
He doesn't.
I don't know.
"Willow?" he urges quietly.
I look to his eyes and I think he can tell that it's troubling me. His expression looks genuinely worried and he tries to go back on what he's said as if a part of him does care that he's hurt me. "I shouldn't have ask-"
That's the last thing I want, sympathy. It makes me look weak and fragile and I can't afford to be those things here. I cut him off with my voice still quivering but I snarl. "The boy from 10. Tricked me and tried to kill me. Stabbed me, cut me, punched me, hurt me." He looks startled by my dark tone. I continue in some kind of bitter rage that isn't a shout. It isn't any louder than normal talking. "Let me guess, Thresh has left bruises as well as destroying the back of my head?"
He doesn't say anything, I'm obviously right.
"Give me my bag." I demand.
Reluctantly, he passes it over to me and I ransack it looking for the medical kit. Upon finding it I pull it open and I find the slither of a mirror. I know that I'll be torturing myself, but a part of me urges me to look at the damage done because I deserve this pain to toughen me up because after all, I'm the weak token tribute that's always alive in the final five. So I do look.
My face is the first thing I see. The cut across my cheekbone is scabbed over and angry looking; the blood has made it look dark. The bruise on the other cheek is a shade of purple which again is a fairly dark purple. It's shaped in a strange circle like way which sort of looks like a fist too. I can feel tears well in my eyes at how much I've changed as I'm nothing like me anymore. And my neck; as well as being scarred there's a bruise which must go around the whole of it. It's a putrid shade of green which makes me feel worse than I already do. I put the mirror away into the first aid kit and put it to my side.
From my visible injuries, anyone can tell that I'm weak. Is this why Thresh and the girl from 5 tried to find me? I was alone and vulnerable and to be blatantly truthful; a great target. I don't see - in this respect - why Cato would want to save me. Who would want someone like me to look after? I'm needy and dependent and quite frankly puny.
I speak; my tone is again rather bitter and dark. I'm prepared to look him in the eye through all my shame and indignity of my injuries and what they must look like to him. "Why did you help me? How did you even find me?"
He looks at me with sympathy still there and I hate him for it. I'm not used to this side of Cato. In a way, I'm more used to me tending to him and feeling sorry for his situation. "I heard you; I was around here hunting tributes when I heard you shout my name. I followed your voice and found you being hit and strangled by Thresh." Then as if he's trying to make me feel better he adds something which angers me. "You hurt him pretty bad though which is commendable."
Commendable? Is it commendable to kill someone or to hurt them? We are definitely not on the same page in that respect, and in a way I feel repulsed. Whatever he's been taught or told about people is wrong. They're twisted and disgusting, and a part of me wants to beg him to be human like most people; back to the humanity of before the Games, before he was brainwashed into an unfeeling killing machine of a Career. But what I notice is that he avoids my first question like the plague and because of what I'm like, I press on for an answer. "I said why did you help me?"
Cato looks slightly uncomfortable. He's mulling over an answer; trying to get it right for his own pride most likely. The pause is awkward and I know I've hit a sore spot. "I have to win and at least if I have you in an alliance with me I've got a chance."
Of course. It always comes down to winning at whatever cost in the Games. Whether you're pitted against an opponent or someone whom you were in an alliance with on day one; it doesn't matter. I feel disappointed. Bitter? Yes. My head spins and to be perfectly honest I can't quite grasp where he's sat because there are three of him. I feel my body rock from side to side and he looks at me, and yet again it is concern that he surveys me with. I think I'm the first crazy person he has to deal with in his sick life as a killing machine. "Willow?"
I smirk before I feel my face twitch with something snapping inside of me. I've cracked. No, not just cracked; I know that there's nothing human left in me anymore. I can't see any sort of hope in my situation, and I don't think I ever will again. "Can't you see? I'm not winning material! I'm not the type of person who deserves to win."
He narrows his eyes and shakes his head with a somewhat annoyed looking expression on his face. Slightly arrogant maybe but that doesn't seem the right word for me to describe it. "Of course you are. You're-"
I suddenly stand up and everything spins again. This time the ground beneath my feet moves and I leans against the inside wall of the Cornucopia for support. Cato stands up as if he's going to try and help me. I almost sprint away from him into the rainy clearing of the surrounding area. I deserve to die; I don't want someone who deserves the chance at living to die in place of me, like Katniss who demonstrated to the whole of Panem that she is a good person. I'm not a good person. I'm a monster, pure and simple. The rain soaks me in seconds, as my coat isn't zipped up which could spell a cold or pneumonia for me. My free hair is also drenched to boot.
And the best thing about it is that I'm past caring, I almost relish the fact that the only person I'm hurting is me because I know I'm not worth it.
The bandage around my head becomes soggy and I feel as if the ground is moving again. Suddenly Cato grabs my upper arm tightly. My bad upper arm as if he's completely unaware of what's hidden underneath the coat I'm wearing. Or maybe he is aware and just wants to make me angrier than I already am. I hiss out in pain but he doesn't let go. I turn to him and his eyes are cold. Completely unfeeling and icy cold. I feel myself shudder in response as this look promises a lot. Why did I even think for a second that I would be safe with him?
"You're staying with me whether you like it or not princess."
"Let go of me!" I snarl.
He sniggers at me like he thinks I'm nothing. "Is this what you want? To sell out? I thought that you were more than that."
I try and conjure up a reply. There's nothing that can even fill the silence and to just make me stop feeling ashamed. It's perhaps a minute later that I start to take his words into account. "Do you think I'm that dumb?" I can tell that my words aren't convincing enough. They're a lie and he sees right through it.
"I don't know." He too is starting to look angry; his eyes are staring holes into me. "You're dumb enough to want to die."
I'm livid. He's calling me dumb, stupid and may as well say that I'm a waste of space. I hit him on the arm that has a hold of mine. He lets go but I don't stop. Then again, then again until I lose count because I just carry on. I kick him next and I just lose myself in a fit of anger and sadness. What makes me even angrier is that he doesn't fight back. He stands there and just takes it. I urge myself to stop and when I do I realise just how much I've changed into a monster.
I put both my hands to my face to hide my anger and my sadness. But I know even with the rain attempting to drown me just won't stop this from beaming round the rest of the country. I try and calm down, and when I do I don't even want to remove the hands from my face. I look so weak.
A weak monster; the biggest contradiction I've ever heard.
I don't remove my hands, I keep myself hidden and my face obscured. I sway and my legs feel weak. He then puts his arms around my shoulders and he walks me back to the Cornucopia as if I haven't just assaulted him. I feel a bit calmer but when we eventually get inside he sits me down in the corner and pulls the sleeping bag over my legs. Then I think he leaves.
I remove my hands from my face. He has indeed gone. I shiver violently as my actions have now caused me to possibly have the stupidest death in the Hunger Games ever. I put my hands under my underarms but even that doesn't cure the shakes and the cold which seems more and more horrible with each passing second. The front of my t-shirt is bloodied, dirty and wet with rain down the front. I need to take it off. But my pride blurs me, it's degrading enough to urinate in front of the nation and I won't let this happen too.
A part of me thinks it's petty. Another is telling me that it isn't. What do I do?
Cato comes back just as the rain eases to a stop. He'd put his hood up and he takes it down when he glances at me. He throws to the ground some wood just outside our cove. He then comes in and takes my bag out there, finding the small case of matches and the few water purification tablets left. He spends minutes by those soggy pieces of wood trying to light them, and when he does the fire starts to crackle and I can feel the warm from being this far away. Strangely enough, that sound reminds me of the bitterly cold winters at home in 7. I'm reminded of a time where we would all sit crowded around the fire in the evenings as a family whilst waiting for stews or soup to cook.
A time that I'll never see again, my mind adds.
Cato comes over to me and stands just short of where I'm sitting down. I can barely meet his gaze. "I think that's more than just a bump to your head." He says rather quietly.
"What do you mean?" I reply with a whisper.
He sighs before he shuffles uncomfortably. Bad news. "I've seen an injury like yours before. You've got bad concussion, real bad. And possibly a cracked skull."
Well, not as if my day can get any worse. When I look at his face I can tell that he means that this is incredibly bad news because it seems slightly upset. Not choked up, but concerned. "How do you know?"
"Your pupils are different sizes. And your speech sounds a bit slurred." What? I don't understand the latter part as to me it sounds fine. But then again that's only to my ears.
"So what does that mean?" I query.
"It means that you have to rest for tonight and some of tomorrow. Then we'll hunt and get this thing wrapped up so a doctor can look at your head." He goes a grabs his homemade wooden spear from nearby to where I'm sat. "We need to get your shirt dry otherwise you'll catch cold."
I don't argue. I concur but silently. He stands there as if he's waiting for it. But I'm not taking my top off with him standing there eyeballing me. "Can you at least turn away or something?"
He looks awkward and turns to go and sit next to the fire with his back to me. Light is fading fairly quickly here. I take off the sleeping bag before unzipping my coat. It's painfully cold as my bare skin meets the freezing air. I turn away from him too and I start to pull the top up with both arms like I usually would. Big mistake. My arm wound hurts and I hiss in pain because I'm agitating it. I realise that doing this is a stupid thing for me to have done.
"You ready?"
"Almost." I pull the t-shirt over my head, grazing the back of it. I whimper in pain but it feels as if there's a lump there now. Once off I zip my coat almost up to my neck and I stand up. Things sway again. I bend down to pick up my sleeping bag before my stomach grumbles. Food. I have cooked rabbit meat in my bag which could go a long way between both of us. I go and sit near to Cato by the fire, but not so that I'm too far away. I pull my hair to one side and dangle is close to the fire in the hope that it will dry quicker.
He puts his hand out for the t-shirt as he looks into the fire. Begrudgingly I let him take it. He puts it on the spear with the wet part facing towards the flames and sits there avoiding all eye contact with me. I know I've done wrong. I'm ashamed by my actions and the thought that I've gone and lost my only ally petrifies me. I don't want to be alone in this thing anymore because I know I can't do this alone. I might not completely trust him, but I don't want him just to team up with me because he has to. I want to be a team because he wants to be.
"I'm sorry." I suddenly say. I sit cross-legged with the sleeping bag over me. I shudder with the cold affecting me quite badly. "I'm sorry for being like that earlier. You didn't deserve it."
He looks at me with a somewhat calm expression on his face; not what I was expecting actually. He does this strange little half smile which in a way shows me understands. Maybe. "Don't worry about it. Head injuries make people become..." He searches for the right word, but I finish his sentence for him.
"Crazy?" I finish.
He shakes his head slightly but I can tell that this was what he was going for. "Not crazy, just completely unlike themselves."
I look back into the fire through embarrassment. It warms my legs but not my torso for some reason.
Cato speaks again. "What about that stab wound...?"
I shrug as if it isn't really that important. In all honesty, is it really? I'm wondering whether anything that I do it really that important. It's just a deep cut now. A cut that'll heal providing we win this. "I got good medicine from a sponsor that healed a lot of it; it's nothing but a deep cut now that'll heal with time."
We're silent for a few minutes until he takes the t-shirt off the spear and hands it back to me. It's nice and warm and I can instantly feel some sort of smile form on my face. Is this the final end to every argument we keep on having? I hope so. I hope he doesn't hate me for my anger that I took out on him. "Thank you." I say before I go back into the cove to put it back on. I turn facing it just in case, as I really don't want him to see anything. It is difficult to put back on but once done it instantly makes me feel better as the warmth gives me some kind of hope that with Cato, there is a slim chance that I can win this.
I still feel a bit weird, and to be perfectly honest I'm just not hungry even though my appetite always seems to crave as much food as possible. However, Cato probably is. Being his size and enduring a physically draining battle with someone possibly bigger than you will have taken it out of him. As I go and sit down I speak to him. "In my bag there's some food if you want it."
"I'm not eating if you don't." He instantly replies. I look at him because I'm concerned now. He's being childish.
"I don't think I'm well enough to eat. I feel ill."
"Then that's it then," he pauses but I can tell that he's looking at my bag, "I'm not eating."
Then like that there's a chiming sound and a parachute falls down next to Cato. It has '2' written on it and he detaches the container and pops it open. Not quickly like he hasn't seen one in a long time, but he takes his time. It could be because he's tired though. There's a flask like mine which sounds full of something as he pulls it out. He undoes the cup part, then the secondary top before he smells it. "Soup." Cato states blandly. He does the first top up and then he examines a note that came with it. His face contorts into anger for a second before he throws it into the fire.
"What was it?"
He shakes his head. "Enobaria and Brutus being as they are." He looks at me before he hands the flask over to where I sit, putting it next to me. "You have it."
"Did you not hear what I just said?"
He gestures to it again. "At least have some of it, then I'll have whatever food you want to give me from your pack." He pauses, eyeing the fire again. "It's hot. Soup will do you some good."
I sigh before I try and work out what I should do. At least soup shouldn't make me feel that sick. I really don't want to be sick in front of him. It's bad enough that I hurt him. "Fine."
I give in and I take the flask, taking the cup part off and the secondary top before pouring the cup half full. I sip it slowly; it's the perfect temperature to eat. I can taste potato, perhaps onion and I can see little tiny slithers of meat in it. I think its chicken. Cato watches me eat and when satisfied he looks in my bag for the food container. He pulls it out and opens it up, exposing skewered rabbit meat and thighs.
"What do I have?" He asks me.
I finish my half cup full before I speak. The warmth it brings has made me feel a lot more comfortable being here with him, knowing that somewhere and somehow he wants to help me. "Cato, it's whatever you want to eat. I'm not fussy."
He takes a rabbit leg and looks at it before he takes a bite. He scrunches his nose in disgust which makes me laugh. In a way, it actually makes him slightly endearing and more human than I ever thought he would be. It's so amusing to watch someone become so repulsed in seconds, especially if he has a cushioned life in 2. I wouldn't be surprised as they are all basically the Captiol's favourites every Hunger Games and just in general.
He sends me some kind of death stare as a response before his face lightens and relaxes a little bit. "It's actually not as bad as I thought, for what... what meat is this?"
"Rabbit." I start to fill up my cup half full again, and I feel a little bit queasy. But regardless I press on in drinking it all because I know that I've got to keep my strength up. I don't want Cato to feel as if I have given up because I think I can win with him. It will feel right to win alongside him. Once done I do up all of the tops and hand it back to Cato who's just finished his rabbit leg. He takes it and holds out the container of meat to me.
"Eat at least some of it." He says, pressing me but not too forcefully. I'm grateful for that.
I take a small piece of skewered meat and eat it and he puts the container back down. It tastes so bland and revolting that it makes my stomach churn even more and each time bile rises I have to swallow it down so much my throat stings. Once we're both done eating we just sit and look into the fire. The silence isn't awkward. Actually, it's peaceful.
Then he stands up. "Sorry Willow, but I'm gonna have to put the fire out now." He stamps on it before he looks over to the cove. "You look tired. You can sleep y'know."
He holds out his hand to me and I take it, letting him pull me up. Once stood I release my grip and everything sways and I can feel my body moving to the ground, and my sleeping bag almost falls out of my grasp. Then he puts his arm around my shoulders and I lean into him to keep my balance. Sleep seems like a good idea right now as I can feel my eyes start to close whilst against his shoulder. We walk over to the corner he put me in earlier, and he crouches down to get me there. We separate, and I feel somewhat annoyed to not feel his warmth radiating from next to me. I cover myself with my sleeping bag and I sit down. I lean against the wall corner to my left and I shudder for warmth. I swear that I can see my breath in the now almost pitch black surroundings.
Cato didn't hang around. He went and sat back to where he was earlier, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating this part slightly. He grips his sword tightly and I know that I'm in safe hands.
"Are you warm enough?" I ask.
"Don't worry about me," he says, "just get some sleep."
I close my eyes and it literally takes me seconds for a deep sleep to take over me.
{-.-}
Pain. Searing pain. There is a long vertical cut all the way from the palm of my hand to my underarm. It's deep and bleeding profusely and I can't stop it. The sight of all of this blood makes me remember the kills I made and the lives I ruined.
I'm quivering, in fear or pain? Someone suddenly puts a blindfold over my eyes and I can't fight back for some reason. Why? My right arm is being held back and my left arm is uncooperative. The rest of my body is frozen. It's unrealistic.
"Peel it away from her muscle." A generic male voice says.
I don't understand. What is going on around me? Suddenly I hear the sound of raw flesh moving then pain, so much pain. Pain that makes bile rise in my throat. I'm being skinned alive.
"Tributes don't really die in the Hunger Games." The generic voice morphs into President Snow's monotonous tone. "They are kept alive for the sole purpose of being tortured. Weak ones, like you Willow Roth get the most pain because you deserve it."
I scream as I feel skin detach my skin. I scream for dear life.
{-.-}
I scream when I'm awake. These dreams are getting worse and worse, I swear that something inside of me has snapped. I've never had nightmares like these; the Games have distorted everything because for moments and minutes a part of me thinks that my nightmares are real. A part of me is thinking right now that regardless of whether I live or die I'll be tortured in my last remaining days.
"Willow?"
I carry on screaming; I won't open my eyes because I'm petrified that something bad is going to happen. I hear soothing 'shushes' from who I assume to be Cato. I think he gets that they don't work though so I feel am arm slide under my back and I recoil because that part of me that doesn't trust him can't let go. I thrash around trying separate myself from the one thing that is keeping me alive here.
"I'm trying to help you, ok?" I relax slightly and my screams silence as I try deep breathing. I won't cry; I won't allow myself to. He pulls my body towards him and I grip onto the sleeping bag for dear life like it's a comforter; a child's comforter. I really am so sad and so stupid. Eventually I realise that he's pulled me so I'm facing him. He then places me so my head is on his chest where his strange armour is. I can hear his heartbeat, even through it. His hand lingers on the small of my back.
I open my eyes and I'm grateful I'm not looking at him. In a state of not really knowing what to do I move my left hand so it too is on his chest and my right is under his shoulder. My hand on his chest is clenched into a fist so tight I can feel blood. Raw skin; it reminds me of my dream over and over so I hyperventilate in fear. Cato's right hand suddenly appears and attempts to unclench it. But even his fingers can't get into it just yet.
He sounds slightly pained, worried if I dig deep enough. "Don't do that to yourself." He whispers before I relent and let him spread out each finger. It stings but pain seems to be one of the only comforters I have left. It cleanses me of every misdeed that I have done. There's blood, but he doesn't mind his own hands getting covered. Cato places it against his chest and he speaks again, clearing his throat slightly. "You can talk to me about it."
"I was being skinned alive." I say, monotonously. "I'm sorry for being so weak. Should we move camp?"
"You're not weak Willow." He states before he sighs lightly. "You just weren't prepared for this. Listen, just go to sleep and you'll feel better in the morning. We'll be fine here, bearing in mind that most of our competition in the arena is either alone or injured or playing nurse."
I'm not weak? Some part of me wants to shout at him, to call Cato a liar. But I can't. The scary thing is, is that a part of me believes him so much because of him training his whole life not to be weak. He must know something about it. My eyes are open wide and I feel so horrible for putting us in immense danger.
"Don't worry about going to sleep. I'm right here, I'll protect you."
I have to look at his face now. I have to know whether he's being genuine or not because this phrase is the most he's ever let me see into the person inside this murderous and cold facade. The moonlight illuminates him so his presence appears ghostly, the lamp is on slightly but that only lights up the space a little as it's on a low setting. Cato seems less hardened and cold, and his mouth it turned into some sort of reassuring smile. He wants me to feel better.
He cares, he actually cares.
I try and smile at him because I mean it.
Then my feelings take over. I move up slightly, and he flinches for a second as if he's expecting me to hurt him again. I feel guilty because I've done this to him and I try desperately not to cry or beg forgiveness. I'm careful to avoid his cruise and I plant a light kiss on his cheek. "Thank you." I say but he looks me in the eye. The thing that scares me a little is that he doesn't look embarrassed.
I try and hide the blush that comes over my own face for a second before I go back down to where I was on his chest. I close my eyes and nestle myself against him. I'm warm now, I feel happy, content maybe. His hand resting on my hip feels right now, it doesn't bother me. I feel comfortable. It takes me minutes to get to sleep but once I'm there I have the best, nightmareless sleep in a very long time. Testament to this is the fact that I don't wake for the anthem, I sleep right through.
{-.-}
Had to do this! This is by far the longest chapter I've ever uploaded. Hopefully everyone's in character, I'm trying my best! Now then, if you know that the first part of the threeshot is up, then you know how majorly messed up Cato is. If you're wondering why he's been quite understanding in this chapter... then you'll just have to wait until I get to the third and final part.
Are you all following my twitter page (wearethelightff)? I'm more responsive to questions on there, and I put teasers for the next chapter each Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday!
So I'm thrilled with the amount of reviews, literally, I can't describe my emotions with any boring adjectives like 'cool' because they don't do them justice. With thanks to: HarryPotterFreakie (I'm glad I do that, thank you m'lovely!), alwaysamarauder16 (THIS IS MY REASONING. Glad you understand! I wish I could give you a Cato lol), Doreandrix (wow, thank you! Your English is really good!), FYInichole (I always update every Saturday, and wow, that means a lot!), StardustIsMagic (wowowowowow thank you lots! Hope yours are going ok, I still haven't had any yet lol, my first is the 11th June), Caella (ooooh thank you! Glad I'm doing them justice), thefanfictiongirl (of course I do! I'd be nowhere without you guys and I take on board any comment made c: thank you for taking the time to review!), myxs (okaaaaay I will c;), DanniiGirl (don't we all? Lol), DonPianta (Someone suggested Catlow. I think that's a brilliant ship name, loads of people seem to ship them now lol and it's so weird to think they like Willow enough), Chelsea (THANK YOU! Every Saturday! C;), bbymojo (omg, am I? Awh thank you, glad they were good enough for you to comment on!), Stephanne21 (Katniss was never the one to kill for the sake of killing. She'd just lost Rue and I thought that she'd pity Willow because of what she'd seen. But hey, thanks for letting me know your qualms, they help a lot c;), criminal-princess (thank you lots!), AliceW (hmm, still wondering on that front), geranium08 (she's hanging in there, just), SeekerDraconis (don't you mean Peeniss? C;), Mace (I hope you didn't get into trouble, thank you lots!), dreamsnhugs (and the secret for writing such tough scenes? Chocolate, a lot of it lol), Miss E. TG. Shire (hope they all went OK, thank you so much for even remembering this little story! Thank you so much!), mudsticks (your reviews are amazing. Seriously your detailed help really motivates me c:. In the fight with the boy from 10, the first cannon was from the D3 boy, then the second for Marvel, and the third was for Rue that D10 pretended was his own. It is the loneliness that's driving her to the person who destroys her most. We'll see more on the Foxface/Thresh spying saga later, trust me. The Cato POV will be in the threeshot for sure. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you SO SO MUCH). Finally to everyone else's support: ano, HermioneandMarcus (x7), Klato, Nelle07, anon, Ravenclaw Slytherin, x D O L L F A C E, bubz, julieAKAweirdo, musicluver246 and Mace.
These author's notes get too long, but I love you all for your support! Let's try and keep this amount of reviews rolling as I'd love to end this story with 300. I can't get my head round the support, and THANK YOU SO MUCH!
See you next Saturday!
wearethelight
xox