AN: Ugh, I've done it again! I've left you guys hanging again and I'm SUPER sorry! I've been preoccupied with fall sports and a musical. Not to mention my birthday. :/

But this is the final chapter for those of you who wanted the story to end the hard way.

The rest of you, stay tuned. There may be more. There may not.

The night goes by without me noticing. I'm curled up next to Cato, breathing in his piney scent. I spend the hours staring at his closed eyes, knowing that he's hiding the beautiful blue underneath. The second I hear him stirring, I snap my own eyes shut. He ruffles his hair and sits up, sighing tiredly. He asks, "Clove, are you awake?"

I do my best to pretend that I'm just now waking up. I groggily rub my eye with the back of my hand and go "Mmm?".

Cato crosses his harms in a frustrated way and says, "No one stood guard. We could have been killed."

There is no blame in his accusation, just a hint of guilt. "I didn't sleep," I confess, not meeting his eyes even though I want to.

"I didn't want to sleep," Cato tells me matter-of-factly. "But I was so tired."

I rest my head on the side of the Cornucopia. "I feel like there's something missing."

"What do you mean?" Cato inquires, taking my hand in both of his.

I impulsively slip out of his grip. "Something hasn't happened. There's something that happens every year, but I just can't remember what it is."

My idea is cut short by blaring trumpets. Claudius Templesmith's voice deletes every other thought from my mind. "Remaining tributes, I invite you to a feast."

"That's it!" I exclaim, leaping to my feet. My haste leaves me dizzy, and Cato grips my shoulders to steady me.

"We don't need anything. You can use your knives to hunt... or whatever..." he says in a disturbingly reasonable manner, before lowering me onto the ground.

"Now hold on", Claudius' voice insists. "Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately."

I heave myself back up, a mutinous glare plastered on my face. "You see?" I hiss. "We do need something. Sure, we're good, but we need to be invincible."

"There's no such thing," Cato retorts. "Dacia isn't invincible. Neither is Brutus. Or Pres-"

Before he can continue, Claudius continues to drawl, "Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance."

That last phrase unsettles me. I grab Cato by the sleeves of his jacket and yank him closer to me. "What does he mean by 'last chance?'"

But there's no more clarification. The announcements end and I'm left with nothing but silence.

"He meant the others," Cato assures me, brushing away the hairs I'd gotten in my face. "The game's in the bag for us."

"Literally," I realize, smiling. "Our invincibility will be waiting in a bag. In the Cornucopia. At dawn, that this."

"We better clear out then," he says. Then he lifts me up and flings me over his shoulder.

"What!?" I shriek, trying to sound indignant, but I'm still laughing hysterically. "Why?"

"We don't want anyone catching us."

"No one's gonna catch us!" I exclaim.

"Says who?"

I jump down from his towering form, grab my backpack and race off. "Says me!"

The sky is lightening into gray already. The air feels heavy on me, even though none of the blood has been spilled yet. The birds tweet a few times before their neighbors hush them. Cato whispers slowly, "Give them a good show." Then he kisses me on the cheek before he stands up. A single rustle of leaves and he's already gone.

I'm sitting stiffly for at least half an hour before a loud creaking demands my attention. The earth splits before the Cornucopia and a table rises out, adorned with the promised bags. My joints shift into a running position when a flash of red stops me. Finch has sprinted out of the golden horn, snagged her backpack and disappeared over the horizon.

But then I see Katniss, running in a flurry of desperation. I'm instantly on my feet, dashing after her. She notices me a second too soon, and the knife I'd aimed at the back of her skull skids across her forehead instead.

At least she stumbles as she clumsily fingers her weapon. The weapon pulls me short and I slow down. A bow. The same bow Glimmer had. I hated Glimmer, but the sight of her bow and arrows, in the hands of Katniss-

I've wasted time. One of Katniss' arrows launches at me and I move just enough. The arrow still lodges itself in my arm and I have to halt to pull it out. I look up and Katniss has already grabbed her bag.

I fling myself at her and knock her down. I yank her into a decent position, so she could see me. So I'd be the last person she ever sees.

"Where's your boyfriend, District Twelve?" I sneer in her face, stressing the syllables in 'boyfriend.' "Still hanging on?"

I'm surprised that she actually answers me. "He's out there now. Hunting Cato. Peeta!"

My pupils dilate in panic and I plunge my fist into her throat. My head reacts before my mind does and it whips about. But Katniss must be lying.

"Liar," I snarl. "He's nearly dead. Cato knows where he cut him." I tilt my head tauntingly. "You've probably got him strapped up in some tree while you try to keep his heart going."

My green eyes flicker to the tiny orange backpack on her wrist. "What's in the pretty little backpack? That medicine for Lover Boy? Too bad he'll never get it."

Still pinning her down with my knees, I slowly and deliberately open my jacket. Katniss' eyes widen as they take in the tools of her demise. I pick my favorite knife, relish the noise of stainless steel against nylon. And soon, the sound of stainless steel against bare skin.

"I promised Cato if he let me have you, I'd give the audience a good show." She really writhing now, because she doesn't know that I never promised a thing. I practically spit in her face. "Forget it, District Twelve! We're going to kill you. Just like we killed your pathetic little ally... what was her name? Rue? Well, first Rue, then you, and then I think we'll just let nature take care of Lover Boy. How does that sound?

"Now, where to start?"

Katniss' face is so filled with pathetic rage that I want to throw my head back and laugh. Instead I run my sleeve over her face, smearing it with a film of her own blood. I take hold of her chin and move her head around, just to agitate her. She snaps at my hand, but I yank her skull back by her stupid braid.

"I think... I think we'll start with your mouth." I run the curved blade of my knife along the outline of her lips. Even under a layer of flesh, my knife tenses against her clenched teeth. "Yes," I purr soothingly. "I don't think you'll have much use for your lips anymore. Want to blow Lover Boy one last kiss?"

She actually has the gall to spit in my face. The warm, sticky blood and saliva solution runs down the side of my cheek. The fury inside of me is so real, that I am ready to toss away my knife and strangle her myself. But I practice self-control and stick to the old method.

"All right then," I say, leaning closer for a better look. "Let's get started."

My blade finds her cupid's bow and sinks slowly, slowly, slowly into her skin. A steady flow of blood greets me. And too soon, bids me farewell.

The scream escapes me as soon as I'm airborne. All I recognize is a set of teeth, then a nose, and then an unusual set of golden brown eyes, filled with rage. And of course, the arms that slam me into the ground. My breath is knocked out, swiftly replaced by a feeling of unbelievable pain. Like I have swallowed all the knives in my jacket.

The Boy from District Eleven roars at me as his looming form blocks the rising sun. "What'd you do to that little girl? You kill her?"

I feel like an insect when I skitter backwards on all fours. "No!" I cry, a new terror filling me. A terror for my life. "No, it wasn't me!"

"You said her name! I heard you! You kill her?" he steps forward, sending me farther back. "You cut her up like you were going to cut up this girl here?"

No, not Rue. Katniss, Glimmer or even Finch. But not Rue. "No! No, I-" Then I see the rock in his hand.

"Cato!" My vocal chords are on fire, ablaze with a searing pain. "Cato! CATO!"

It's hopeless. Cato's gone. Too far away to hear me. But I hear my name, the only word that can help me now. "Clove!"

"Cato!" I shriek, but it's too late- the rock is already making it's descent. "Cato! Cato!"

There's no pain. No aftermath. Just a dull, crunching sound.

AN: Well, I'll leave you guys, as traumatized and nauseated as you must be, on that note. Toodles!

~~~Flare