He's With Me Chapter One-Wrath
"SEVINA, OPEN THE DOOR!"
Clove's head shoots up at the familiar sound of the powerful, masculine voice as he pounded on her door. She looks down at herself, scrunching her nose at her hideous pajamas. Cato, her nasty training partner who lived several rooms down, being the dumbass he is flooded the laundry room because he clearly had never learned to operate a machine before.
That's what happens when you have loads of girls revolving at your door that volunteer to do everything for you while you train, so you never really learn how to do basic things that don't involve killing people.
Now, she's forced to wear a pink tank top that was too small for her and if that isn't bad enough, her iconic monkey pants.
Clove wastes no time shimmying into her pajamas and running to the door. She freezes, her hand tightening around the knob as she stares at the boy in front of her.
He got into fights before and would show up unnannounced like always, that was just their thing. She'd clean up his mess, wipe away his tears and then spend the rest of the night making it all better *wink wink*.
But this is different.
A stream of blood trickles down from his temple, his cheeks flushed red. His lip is busted open and it's bleeding too, not as much but still enough to make Clove's blood boil. She could see the tears prickled behind his eyes as he clenched his fists so tight they were turning white.
"What happened?" She growls.
He doesn't answer her, and instead goes straight for her lips, silencing her with his mouth.
Clove shoves him away, refusing to let him get away without an answer. "Tell me, Mellark." She growls.
Peeta Mellark isn't one to fight. He never was, since the day she met him, he was always the weaker one in pretty much every area, except maybe in the socializing department.
He was someone nice, as someone who came from a relatively pleasant family should be. The Mellarks owned a bakery in the town square, and though she'd die before admitting it to him, Clove actually liked their goods, particularly their delicious chocolate covered strawberries.
People liked Peeta and although he didn't have any close friends, he was still accepted by the majority of their high school. Which is why no one understands why he's friends with Clove, the senior everyone feared.
Because as far as everyone else is concerned, Clove Sevina is an antisocial bitch.
"If we're not going to fuck, I'm leaving."
Clove wonders for a moment why his unusually harsh words sting, but her curiousity is quickly replaced with fury. She steps closer to him, looking up into his agitated gray eyes and says, slowly as if she's talking to a mentally disabled monkey, "You will definitely be leaving if you don't tell me what the fuck happened to you."
Peeta swallows hard and Clove wonders if he's about to hit her, even though she knows of course, he would never.
"Cato."
"What did he do?"
Peeta doesn't answer, feeling like a little child running to his mommy to save him from the big bad bully. Clove senses this, she's always been able to read him easily, and puts a hand against his cheek.
He flinches. She's never done anything like that before.
"Don't get used to it. I'm just babying you so you'll start talking." She says, in a very unusual tone of voice that he's never heard before.
"He broke Roma's arm." Peeta says in such a tiny voice Clove almost didn't hear him. Key word being almost. And that's all it takes.
She spins towards her bed, hot on her heels as she swipes one of her daggers from underneath, marching past Peeta and up the stairs to the boys' floor. She bangs on the door of Room 302 and wastes no time in shoving in the big blonde asshole she hates with a passion.
She hears Peeta's yelling nearby which means he'll be here in a few seconds, just enough time for Clove to kick Cato's ass.
He is so much bigger than her, but with a knife in her hand it was clear who has the advantage. Clove puts it against the nape of his neck, anger filling her voice, "So what, you torture 9 year old girls now for fun?"
Cato blinks in confusion when the realization hits, and he laughs. He doesn't seem concerned at all about the knife pressed against his neck as his gaze leaves Clove and falls on Peeta who's just rushed in behind her. "Sending your bitch to finish me off since you couldn't?" He taunts.
Clove twists the knife and he screams, even though she barely cut him and there was only a pinch of blood.
Pathetic. She thinks. What a shame that the Training Academy had put this clown as the highest ranking student when he couldn't even handle a tiny scrape without flinching. He must have done some serious ass kissing to get that spot.
"I guess that's why I'm standing here and the only thing that's holding you up is my girl with a knife to your throat."
His words come as a surprise, throwing her completely off guard in her fit of anger.
My girl. He's never said that before.
She's confused and annoyed at the same time. Another feeling slips in too, but it goes by too fast for Clove to tell what it is. She was never good with understanding anyone's emotions, especially her own, except maybe when it included rage.
That reminds her of the task at hand and she glances down, gasping at the sight of Cato's bloodied feet. Huffing, she lets go of him completely and he falls unceremoniously onto his ass. It's almost laughable if not for the terrifying expression on his face as he glares up at her.
And to think they would be district partners this year. Tomorrow is the reaping, and since Clove is eighteen, she would finally be able to volunteer. So would Cato, everyone knew it and no one would dare interfere.
Maybe this assault wasn't the best idea, but she can't help it. Whoever has the nerve to touch Peeta, which isn't very often, knows they must deal with her and to those with better judgement, it just isn't worth the trouble.
"Well shit, Clove. Didn't think it only took you opening your legs once to actually stick around for the aftermath."
And that's all Peeta can take before he's on top of Cato once again, kicking and thrashing against his already busted up face.
Clove jumps backward as the guys stumble to their feet, with Cato having Peeta in a headlock. There's no way she can stop this right now, not when they're in a full on brawl. She definitely wasn't going to be the idiot that got in between two 180 pound boys either.
As strong as Peeta may be, Cato was stronger, and he was choking the life out of him. He was much angrier than before, that much Clove could tell. She needed to do something now.
Somehow, Peeta manages to break free and stumbles to the other side of the room, crashing into the folded plastic chairs that Cato had set against the wall. He grabs one of them and whirls back around, charging at Cato who's standing there, totally defenseless and empty handed.
Immediately, Clove rushes between them, not because she doesn't want him to hit Cato, but because she knows that if he does this, shit will really hit the fan and when the Training Committee hears the chaos, they could possibly beat him to death.
She hoped that wouldn't happen because then, she would really be forced to hurt them.
If I die at the hands of one of those grisly Peacekeepers, I am coming back to haunt the fuck out of him.
Clove ducks underneath Peeta's raised arms, hugging his waist against her chest. "Stop, Mellark." She whispers, gently pressing her lips against the soft fabric of his shirt near his waistband.
Clove was never this tender and although it confused the hell out of him, Peeta felt his muscles relaxing and he slowly started to lower the chair. Clove held her breath as it landed with a thud beside her and she let her arms fall.
Holding hands was never their thing, but she didn't care. She reaches for his hand and pulls him to the door, throwing up her middle finger at Cato who watches them with an eerily silent and very frightening expression.
Lord help me in the arena. She thinks as Peeta kicks the door shut behind her.