AUTHOR'S NOTE: And here we get to see a taste of how the games affected Clove. She's not in good shape, although it wasn't like she was mentally sound before the games either. Perhaps the most driving-home point of this chapter is to remind folks who these victors-these veterans-are. They aren't these old, decorated heroes who have seen decades of combat-they're just kids.
Happy Reading!

CHAPTER 23: A Child's Scars

Clove didn't realize how hungry she was until after she was back up in her apartment surrounded by all sorts of delicious Capitol confections and delicacies. Perhaps in a shot of defiance, or maybe just to prove what she had said during her interview, Clove loaded a plate of food up before slamming her face right into it and eating with a level of savagery usually only seen in Districts 12 or 11.

"This kid has style," Enobaria gave an approving smirk to Elroy, who couldn't help but nod in agreement. Clove Kazera had been an amusing tribute to watch during the games. Her antics both in and out of the arena were always an interesting spectacle. Athena's nose crinkled at the sight of Clove's messy eating, but either she held her tongue in fear of one of the mentors making a sharp remark, or perhaps they wordlessly reminded her that this young woman hadn't eaten properly in weeks, and that she had earned it.

Whatever the case, Clove soon licked her plate clean, figuring that seconds weren't necessary with how much she had piled onto her first dish, and then shuffled into her room to shower and change into something more comfortable. After drying off and slipping into some shorts and a tanktop, she found herself gazing into a mirror at her reflection. A short, thin freckled girl with lank brown hair stared back at her, a distinct exhaustion in her eyes and a slouch in her stance. Even with as fairly small as her clothing was, it still felt a little loose on her, even insomuch that the symbol on her shirt—an abstract design looking something like a teardrop sitting in the 'arch' of an upside-down Omega symbol, seemed a bit wrinkly. Had she truly fallen this far from where she had started? She didn't know what to feel other than loneliness. On one hand, her sister was still alive even if she was out keeping the peace in District 12—and sure she had Elroy and Enobaria as well as a handful of others… but she missed Cato. She missed Marvel and Glimmer, and even, dare she say it—Rue.

Clove felt like her life was pointless almost—she had been training her whole life to reach this point, and had never really given much thought to what happened when she was there. Perhaps she had assumed that she would die instead of reach her goal, but then again, she was Clove Kazera. She was not a quitter, and was not a loser. She was a victor.

Rue Keniye had given Clove purpose—a fearless and cunning rival to keep her strong, sharp, and on her toes—and boy, had Rue succeeded in that department. The cunning youngster had had Clove running for her life on more than one occasion, where their whole rivalry finally culminated at the top of the golden horn where it had all begun 17 days ago.

Clove blinked, before her eyes widened. Standing behind her, wearing the same black and grey jackets from the arena, complete with the number 11 on both shoulders, was Rue herself. Her arms were folded and a calm expression appeared on her face, that frizzy brown hair of hers obscuring parts of it.

"KYAAA!" Clove yelped, spinning around and reaching her hand habitually for where she kept some of her knives. Of course, all that happened was she pushed the left strap of her tanktop off of her shoulder, and as she spun around, she realized the room was empty. She paused, taking a breath. She crept across the hall to Cato's old room, and for some reason, the emptiness of the room made her much sadder than she expected to be.

There were no memoirs of Cato in this room, for next year it would house the next District 2 boy to make his way to the volunteer stage. Briefly, Clove wondered what the next Quarter Quell would entail, and if District 12 would win it the same way they had won the other two—those seemed to be the only Hunger Games that that district could win.

But as she was enveloped by the silence again, Clove found herself sighing. She missed Cato, and missed the antics the two of them used to get up to. She wasn't sure if she would go as far as to say she missed the arena, but it was only after everything that happened to her had happened to her, that she realized how small and young she was. She played herself up as this powerful female warlord capable of taking on dozens of people at a time and ending their lives with one swift throw of a knife, but as she glanced in the mirror, all she saw was a little freckled girl staring confusedly back at her, reminding her of a painful but simple truth: At the end of the day, she was still just a kid.

This time Rue didn't even appear behind her, and perhaps for that reason, Clove felt even more alone than ever. Her parents back home didn't care about her (or her sister). They were useless drunkards who probably had not even realized that she was gone. Her sister Chive would have been there, but Peacekeepers seldom got to take leave once stationed in their districts. No Cato to keep her company; no parents to congratulate her, no Rue to keep her on her toes, no Chive to laugh with her, and Clove realized that even though she was now considered a hero, that she didn't even have anyone to brag about it to. Enobaria and Elroy already knew what it was like; half of what she said would go over Athena's head ("that fucking ditz…"), Chive would not be back for a few weeks or months, and her stupid parents wouldn't even know what had happened. Heck, right now she would even take Rue in her list of people she wanted to talk to.

A moment later, another figure appeared in the mirror, but when Clove spun around, she saw that it was someone real: Enobaria—not someone that Clove expected much sympathy from.

"Was I being loud?" Clove murmured, glancing at her toes.

"no, but I can tell you're feeling out of whack," Enobaria explained, "I've been there and done that. I had friends that I lost in the arena, and that I killed, no less."
"You ripped his throat out though," Clove argued,

"We were the last two," Enobaria shrugged, "he was bashing my head against a rock, so I grabbed his neck, bit his throat and tried to tear it out. It was just business. He wasn't the type to back down any more than Cato was—you just did a cleaner job killing him."

"I might be alone in this, or maybe I'm still just being delusional from the games and the drugs…" Clove began slightly stammering, "but I feel like I got duped."
"By who," Enobaria raised an eyebrow, "Rue?"

"by the Gamemakers…" Clove explained, "and not just because of that stupid rule redaction… I'm just… confused. What am I going to do with my life? I'm probably just rambling like a mentally unhinged idiot right now, I know. I just wanted to rant to someone."
"What, you think that just because I stabbed people in the skull and bit out a couple of throats that I'm somehow not empathetic?" Enobaria scoffed, "kid, killing's the name of the game, and frankly, I hate it too. I bitched and moaned to my mentors too, so you can let it out if you want. Just because I don't open my arms for every watery-eyed chump that passes my way doesn't mean I don't care. Clove… I know what you've been through. Elroy, Brutus, Layla, Leto, Lincoln, Lyme… even the ones that are gone now… we all know what you've been through, to enough of an extent."

There was a moment of silence before Enobaria cracked something of a smirk. "you look cute with your hair down, by the way." She added.

Clove stepped gingerly towards the taller woman before putting her arms around her. "I thought I was above it…" she whispered, "I thought that I had managed to seal away my emotions the way they train us to. I did so well… well, except around Rue—but still. I… I just…"
"Dammit, kid…" Enobaria sighed as she heard the telltale breaths of someone about to cry, "Actually you know what? Go ahead and let it out. Don't go telling anyone, but I did the same thing 12 years ago when I won my games."
Clove didn't really even need Enobaria's 'permission' before she started to softly sob into her mentor's shoulder. She thought of Cato, and how he had nearly been torn to shreds before he died; and of Rue, who looked so peaceful in death; and most importantly, about herself, and how she felt right now after the games—and how she had nothing to look forward to. Was this what every career who volunteered for the games had in store if they were lucky enough to crawl out of that arena alive? It was not something Clove wanted to think about right now, and so hopefully Enobaria didn't mind a few more tear-stains on her shirt.