Epilogue

"When did you know it?" I ask Cato after we've walked in silence for a while.

It's already cold outside, the thick clouds announcing the arrival of the first snow within the next couple of hours though November has only just begun.

Two years have passed since Cato and I have been in the Hunger Games. Two years since we've come out alive. I'm sure neither of us will ever forget about that. But two years are a long time, so the Games are certainly not the first thing that comes to Cato's mind when he's confronted with my question.

"Know what?" he asks casually.

I stop in the middle of the forest track we've been following.

Cato turns around, obviously confused. "What's wrong with you?"

I hesitate.

I don't know what makes it so hard to express what I want to say, but suddenly, all the words in my mind are gone. There are only the images. Those images that keep haunting me as I always knew they would. I hate them more than anything else in the world, but I just can't get rid of them. Whatever I try, they'll return. Like a nightmare that goes on and on and on; forever.

It's not even the image of the rock in Thresh's hand that scares me the most. I've got used to that scene; I've told myself over and over that I'm alive and he's dead and he's not able to hurt me anymore. When the image of the rock flashes in front of my eyes, I can handle it by now.

Glimmer is much worse.

Glimmer in Cato's arms, the two of them huddled against each other in front of the fire, fighting the cold of the night by sharing their warmth… And that's just one thing I see in my mind. One image out of thousands. Some aren't even real; at least I suppose they aren't, because they look like the sharpest reality and hurt like an actual wound in my chest.

When the images are coming to me, I'm powerless. It makes me think I'm weak, and probably crazy. Even if I've left the arena as a victor, I feel like I've come home as a total wreck.

Most of the time, Cato has been there when the fear of death threatened to overwhelm me. He caught me and told me he knew what was going on and that I shouldn't be afraid anymore. He said there was no need to be afraid as long as he was with me, and I believed him. I really did. And much to my surprise, it worked.

Nevertheless, I couldn't tell Cato about Glimmer. He doesn't know that she's become scarier to me than the murder weapon in Thresh's brawny hand. I've never been able to tell Cato because I'm too ashamed of what he might think. I mean, the effect those images have on me is completely ridiculous. It would be a humiliation to admit what I'm actually feeling when I see Glimmer in Cato's arms – even if it's just a memory, even if it's long over.

At first, I've tried to fight this kind of memories the way I fought the thing with Thresh, by convincing myself that Glimmer is dead and will never come back to tear Cato and me apart. Then I understood that it doesn't matter if she's dead or alive. What matters is that Cato had feelings for her, and feelings don't just disappear with the death of a loved person. If they're strong and true, they stay with you for the rest of your life. I don't know what Cato felt for Glimmer. After all, he's still Cato and I still don't understand how he's even able to feel anything, especially for me. In the arena, he said he loved me. And he said that Glimmer had never been important to him. But those images in my mind, they speak for themselves. They say something different.

Look at them, Clove. How happy they look together. He must care a lot about her, don't you think? The way he's looking at her, do you see that? Looks don't lie.

Maybe Glimmer isn't dead for Cato. Maybe his feelings are still the same and he's only here with me because she's gone, and if she were still alive she would be the one on his side now…

That thought scares me so much I can't even stay on my feet. My knees begin to tremble so hard that I'm about to fall when Cato appears at my side, just in time to catch me. He puts his arm around my waist and steadies me.

"Are you feeling ill?" he asks, and the worry in his gray eyes is killing me. It's so pure.

I shake my head and pull away from him as soon as my legs have regained their strength. "No, I'm fine."

Cato frowns, little convinced. "Is it Thresh again?" he says cautiously.

"No", I reply. "Not him."

"What do you mean, not him? Is it somebody else?"

Somebody else. The way Cato says these words makes me think he knows about Glimmer, and about my fear of her. Is it possible that he's already seen through me?

I remain silent.

"It's about the Games, isn't it?" Cato asks in concern. "You're always behaving that way when you remember the Games."

I wish he would stop asking me questions about the Games. It's not like he could do anything against those memories if I told him what they're about. But Cato seems so desperate to help me that I have to tell him something, anything; just to give him an answer. So I decide to start with the truth.

"Okay, fine. It's the Hunger Games. So what?"

Cato shrugs. "Why can't you just… well, try not to think about it anymore?"

"Are you serious?" Indignation is rising inside of me. "It's not like I remember these things on purpose, Cato! I can't just switch that off with a snap of my fingers, okay?"

"Then don't let it get to you", Cato replies simply. "They're only memories. They can't hurt you or anything."

"But I can't do anything against them!" I call out in desperation. "It doesn't matter if those pictures are real or just illusions; neither does it matter if all those people are dead already, because…"

Cato raises his eyebrows. "Because what? Dead people can't harm you, Clove."

"At least not physically", I say without looking at him. "But they can do quite a lot of harm in other ways."

"So it's her, isn't it?" he asks straight-forwardly.

When I don't answer, he takes it as a confirmation. "Glimmer. It's always been her, right? But Clove – she is dead!"

I turn my back on Cato so he won't see how much the pure sound of Glimmer's name is affecting me.

"Come on, Clove; talk to me", Cato says impatiently. "What is so scary about Glimmer, now that she's no longer here?"

I take a deep breath and try to figure out what to tell him. I wonder if the situation can get any more humiliating for me. I must already look like a complete fool, and I don't want to make it worse by presenting me as one of those excessively jealous women. Even if it's true – I am jealous – I won't tell Cato about it. If he knew, he would probably leave without another word; leave not only for the moment, but forever. Why should such a special person like him bother about a girl like me, anyway?

The old Clove seems to be drifting away from me with every day, and I'm about to become the very stereotype of a girl; weak, emotional, annoying. So annoying. I've always hated those girls. And I know Cato hates them just as much.

I have to make him stay. If I tell him the truth about Glimmer, he will go and I'll be lost forever. I can't let that happen; I can't and I won't.

"There's nothing scary about her", I finally announce.

It's not even a real lie. I've never been afraid of Glimmer. I just didn't want to lose Cato. And even now that she's dead, those memories keep telling me that he might still be thinking about her and that I might still lose him.

"There's something about her, obviously", Cato replies, sounding irritated. "But I don't get it, okay? What kind of harm could Glimmer possibly do when she's dead?"

Somehow, his lack of understanding is making me angry. I clench my fist for a second, then take another breath to calm myself down.

"She's not doing anything; not actively", I try to explain.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Cato yells.

A sudden impulse makes me spin around. I look at his face and find a mixture of worry and desperation in his eyes, melting into a perfect sadness.

So it's true, I think. He's still longing for her. Glimmer is still alive inside of him.

I'm staring straight into his eyes when I say: "You know what? She's won. She may be dead, but she'll never be gone. And I'm not going to compete against a ghost, Cato."

I avert my gaze and my feet start moving, walking away from him with quick steps. It almost feels like I'm fleeing, but I don't care anymore.

Cato's heart has always belonged to her. If she weren't dead, she would be the one he'd have brought here. She would be the one to spend the rest of his life with; not me. It's never been me. I've been unbelievably stupid to think Cato might feel anything for me.

"Clove!"

He's grabbing my arm, forcing me to stop. His grip is so tight it hurts.

"Let go."

"Not until you tell me what is going on here!" he claims. "Competing against a ghost – What do you want to say with that?"

I struggle to free myself, but he's holding me firmly.

"I can't tell you!" I blurt out. "You'll think I'm insane."

"You already seem pretty insane", Cato answers. "It can't get any more ridiculous, okay?"

"That's not what I mean", I say weakly. "Come on, let me go."

Cato looks at me critically, considering whether he should indulge me. He doesn't loosen his grip, though.

"Why don't you just tell me?" he asks, and I hear real curiosity in his voice.

"It would make me look weak", I mutter. "And you'd only be annoyed by me…"

My throat feels so dry; I wonder how I even manage to speak. I swallow hard and try to blink the tears away, but they're slowly soaking their way through my closed eyelids. I'm crying and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

"Hey", Cato says quietly. "Listen; I would never be annoyed by you."

When I feel his hand on my cheek, I abruptly turn away from him.

"You would leave me", I say, my eyes fixed on the stony path beneath my feet. "But then again, you were never really here. You were always with her."

The words are suddenly returning to me, and before I can stop myself, they start pouring out of my mouth like a waterfall. Cato doesn't even have a chance to answer.

"Did you pretend I was her? Is that the reason why you brought me here? You told me you loved me because she was dead, and all I've ever been is her replacement! Why did you do that, Cato? What did you think? I believed you!"

"Hold on!" he finally interrupts me. Then, breathing deeply, he says: "Okay, I get it. But you're right; that's completely insane."

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter if you go now", I reply. "You've never been with me, so it's not even possible for me to lose you, is it?"

Cato's hands are on my shoulders and I have no chance but to look up at him, right into his eyes. Their gray is so pure, so full of honesty. Whatever he's going to tell me now, it can't be a lie.

"Clove", he says softly, and my heart starts melting away by the sound of his voice.

Cato is brushing back a strand of my black hair that has fallen into my face. He's as careful as if he was holding a strand of pure gold between his fingers. And there's always the sincerity in his eyes, always steady, never faltering.

"You remember what I told you in the arena, don't you?" he goes on. "I said that I loved you. And I'll say it again whenever you like, because I meant it. It was meant for you, and not for Glimmer."

I sigh. "But –"

"No", Cato cuts me off. "I told you Glimmer didn't mean anything to me. I've never mourned her death. You know why I flirted with her during the Games, but I was stupid to think a simple explanation would be enough. My explanation didn't erase those images, of course. And now you're remembering me with Glimmer and you keep thinking she must mean anything to me…"

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done this. You don't deserve to be treated this way."

I close my eyes so I won't be distracted by Cato's intense look. Then I try to understand what he's just said. I try to get everything, every bit of it, but I don't think it works.

It was meant for you, and not for Glimmer.

And still it hurts when he's saying her name. Still I can hear those deep emotions in his voice.

Except he's right and they're for me, like he said.

Could it be that he, Cato, loves me? Me, Clove, and not her? Could that be possible, considering all the memories in my head? All those images showing Cato and Glimmer and the admiring look in his eyes and the bright grin on her face…

And they're real. Those moments have happened, they have existed, Cato has given her the exact same look he gives her again and again in my memory – and now he's telling me that it doesn't mean anything.

"This is all my fault", Cato says when I've been silent for a while. "I've been a coward. I should've told you right away that I love you."

The question is erupting in my mind like lightning on a blank summer sky. Time is running backward, seconds are passing in front of my eyes, the whole scene is rewinding until the moment when I asked my question. The one that started everything.

"When did you know it?" I whisper.

Understanding flashes across Cato's face. "So you're asking for the moment I first knew that I love you?"

I nod.

Cato cups my face with his hands, his eyes steady on mine, and gives me the most beautiful smile I've ever seen on him.

"That's easy, you know? I've known that I love you since I saw you at the reaping in that stunning dress, and my heart stopped for a second and the sight of you took my breath away. I've known it since then, Clove. I've just never been able to admit it."