Chapter Twelve: This Side of Paradise

"False start, you sleepyhead

I'm caught up in the day with my night dreams and my mistakes

Television knows you're acting

The little boys go on pretending, they're wide awake

I'll settle on the dust, settle on the dust

But I've got better luck in my head

We're just ghosts inside my bed

I've got better luck in my head

Playing poker with the dead

This side of paradise, this side of paradise

This side of paradise, this side of paradise."

-Reaping Night-

Clove hadn't trained for a while, so she had forgotten what it was like to have the wind knocked out of her until just then. She sat on the floor of the train car, feeling her world sway underneath her as she tried not to look as hurt as she felt. Maybe she didn't think it through. She was impulsive, and she always had been, but nothing had ever felt as right as those two words bursting from between her lips. I volunteer.

Perhaps her decision, so rashly made, had never been about Cato. Perhaps it was for her and her alone. She had thoroughly enjoyed her time with Cato, but she was done playing house, and she was done letting him fight her battles. She was meant to be a tribute. She was always meant to be a tribute.

She almost convinced herself of this until she saw the recap of the Reaping. She saw herself sprint desperately up to the stage and flush with relief when she was pulled onto it, a desperate spectacle compared to Cato's brisk saunter to the stage. She realized that sure, she was meant to be a tribute. But Cato?

Cato was meant to be a Victor.

Cato was meant to be a Victor. He had known from the beginning that nothing, nothing in the world, was going to separate him from that. Clove was not and never had been the exception. She had been useful to him when she was part of his plan to win, but now, she was his competition just like everyone else.

When the pangs of guilt hit him throughout the evening, he had to remind himself that she had chosen the outcome on her own. She could've had it all, but she chose her own pride. He would not sacrifice himself for her. He would not sacrifice himself for her.

The scariest part of that, to him, was that he even had to remind himself of that.

That night, he lost count of the number of times he caught himself reaching for Clove, or having dreams about the blood draining from her veins. He couldn't get to sleep without imagining a fantasy world where she was still his.

He would not sacrifice himself for her. He was no longer merely scared that he had to remind himself of that fact. He was terrified because he wasn't entirely sure he believed it.

Hello, lovely readers. I have had a very rough day, a good friend of mine who was like a grandmother to me passed away today, and I'm heartbroken. Feel free to leave some comforting words with or in place of a review, because my heart is hurting and I could really use some kindness. Thank you guys for being friends to me, and I hope y'all enjoy this chapter. I might post another one tonight just because I can and because these last two were pretty short.