A/N Sorry guys, my wifi was down, and I also had to prepare one of my one-shots for a contest. I'm in the young Arthurs writing competition this year, and I am the entry representing my grade level, check out the story, 'how Johanna Mason became victor.'
I feel a sharp pang shoot across my spine, the deep razor cutting ache so hard I want to scream, whatever morphine they had inserted into had worked to well, and I make out the soft cotton fabric I lie under. I roll my neck, noticing that the flesh under the cotton can only belong to one person. "Don't move Clover." Cato insists. I feel his cool fingers touch my ear, like he always did when he knew something bad was comings.
His cool fingers fall in a beeline down my face, the thick broad phalanges make me numb from their coolness. "I can guess how dead Snow want's me." I whisper, I can tell were in our suite, just by the smell, this year the rooms are different more dark and dim, match our personality more. I think to myself. Cato lifts my chin weakly. "He gave you a strong dose of morphine in front of his nation." He raises an eyebrow. I blink softly. "That bad." I shake my head. Cato nods. I spot a large glass wall that overlooks the training center. It must be tinted, due to the fact that the people flying by in the elevators stare blankly at the windows. Cato grabs my arm as I begin to craw towards the wall.
"Can we talk?" He asks. I look into his pale eyes. Something has changed in them, a year ago he'd asked the same question, it's funny to see how much we'd changed, mostly myself. Cato takes my pale hand pulling me close to his chest. I tremble as his cool goosebumped arms shiver. "Cato." I whisper under my foggy breath. "Clove." My breath steams down the collar of his white t-shirt. I don't want to look into his eyes, afraid of crying. "What are we going to do?" He asks. I lift my chin. "I wish I could say Cato." I say.
We sit like this for all of thirty minutes, or until an avox walks into the room. I look into her grey eyes, the same Avox from Snow's house. I remember the girl's timid face from miles away. She had that capitol look to her, unlike any of the other ones around here. Cato rubs my shoulder softly. "Brutus and Enny were having guest over." Cato announces, locking eyes with the short girl. I can see the purple bruises under her eyes, that's where they ripped out the tear ducts, I begin to dive deep into concentration, my mind moving so far from Cato's soft deep voice, that I don't hear him at first.
"What?" I ask. He looks down into my eyes. "Do you want to go get something to eat?" He asks softly as the girl begins to polish the several tables that decorate the dark, lemon scented room. I look back at him, his beard shows softly, the blonde stubbles tickle my forehead. I blinks once. "Of course." I insist. Cato lifts me up forwards, holding my aching back the lightest his strong grip will let him. He slowly lifts me onto my feet. I have to lean on him as I go. Afraid I'll fall if I let go. The smell of food provokes me to get further towards the living room.
The first person I identify is Johanna, Her and Blight sit at the table, Cashmere and Gloss sit next to then, then there's Grace, Brutus and Enny. Johanna smiles, her snarky grin so strong it makes me want to smile too. "Are we fighting the game makers next?" She laughs sarcastically. I roll my eyes. "Only if you agree to let me do all of the bloody work Joe." I smile. The girl's unwelcoming eyes flicker to stare into mines. "That's the best part sweet- heart." She says, there's something deeply wrong with the way she says it. I cling onto Cato hiding my face under his face. Brutus smiles. "You know Blight right?" He asks.
I look at the nice groomed man. "He won the hunger games." I smile weakly. Everyone laughs at this. "Yes because only Blight knows how to survive." Belle says starkly. I roll my eyes. I sit down grabbing the table cloth as Cato begins to fix me a plate half of the group is still laughing at Belle's stupid remark when I get my plate. "Shut the hell up will you?" I yell in a flustered tone. Johanna laughs.
After that the chat stays down to a minimum mellow, no one discusses the games like we usually did over dinner, I look at the group, noticing this isn't any ally meeting, just a dinner party. Cato takes my hand in his. "We should get back to the room, Clove needs to be back to normal by the parade or I'll be pissed the hell off." Cat says. We don't wait for anyone to say goodbye, we just stand up and walk away.
Sorry, more Clato in the next chap, I have to do another short story to read at the regionals, one less gory, what do you think it should be?