Raised to Fight, Born to Die: The District 2 Tributes
A/N: Sooooo…..welcome to the thirteenth and final chapter! Enjoy and don't forget to tell me what you think through PM and reviews!
(Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or its characters.)
~*~*~X~*~*~
Chapter 13: Ruination
~*~*~X~*~*~
Cato
I stumble down on all fours to catch my breath. I didn't realize how long I'd been running. I can barely breathe. I breathe in and out, my breath raspy. In the corner of my eye, I see Katniss climb to the top of the Cornucopia, and I hear Lover Boy call out from down on the ground.
That's funny. Why would Katniss leave her "star-crossed" lover all by himself while she climbs up to safety?
Then it occurs to me. They aren't in love. It's all a ploy. I already knew this from the start, but it's like I just really realize it now.
The girl from Twelve calls out something to Lover Boy.
I start to get cramps in my side.
I hear the mutts barking and howling and growling from down below.
"Can they climb it?" I call out to the other two tributes, but I can barely understand my voice, wheezing and raspy.
At first neither of them answers me, and then Katniss says, "What?" Lover Boy repeats my words, but I don't get an answer anyway. I look over to see for myself, making sure my hands don't slip on the edge of the Cornucopia roof.
I see Katniss aiming her arrow down at them, but I glance over at her shoulder to see she only has a few arrows left. To waste them on the dogs? Not her best idea.
As my eyes dart to all the dogs below, something nags at me. I look each of the dogs over again, and again and again. Something's wrong.
Katniss screams. Then she shoots an arrow down, and I hear a wolf whine and a loud thud. She hit one of them. Lover Boy says something, and they talk, but I can barely make out their words. My blood's pounding in my ears so hard I feel like I'm about to burst. There's more blood rushing like a waterfall down my face. I've never been this tired out. I take deep breaths, aware that my heart rate is so fast it's literally skipping beats.
I struggle to pay more attention to Katniss and Lover Boy's words.
"What is it, Katniss?" Peeta garbles.
Katniss coughs. "It's them, it's all of them! The others. Rue and Foxface and…" She pauses for a second. "All of the other tributes," she gets out before making a choking sound.
Them? Rue and Foxface? I don't know who the hell Foxface is, but I think Rue is, or was, Thresh's district partner. The little one. I scan the dogs again, trying to take in every little detail, everything I see. It's only now that I notice they all look different. Some have curly hair, some have straight hair, some have dark eyes, some had light eyes. Others have lighter colored fur and some are dark. It's the eyes that get me though. It's something about the eyes that make me squint my own eyes and look harder.
There's one dog sniffing at the Cornucopia; it growls and looks up at me. Its eyes are hazel-colored, and its medium-brown hair is curly.
Curly hair. Hazel eyes.
It's Marvel.
I back up quickly, almost falling on my back. Then I scramble closer, and something with a reflective glare catches my eye. I look closer under Marvel's – I mean the dog's – neck. It has a collar. A collar with a silver jewel engraved in it. There's some kind of writing, too, but I can't read it from up here. The jewel is enough, though.
A jewel. Luxury. District One.
My eyes quickly scan the pack of dogs, looking for the one that should resemble Clove. I have this crazy idea that if I see the dog that looks like her, it might be kind of like me seeing Clove again, in a way. These dogs are tough, bloodthirsty, strong. Just like she is.
I can't find it, though. There's one dog with dark eyes and dark hair, but it's not the right one. I can just tell. When I look at the dog it reminds me an awful lot like Thresh, though. It's bigger than all the others, too.
My breathing's better now. My heartbeat's calming down. I look at Katniss, and she's aiming one of her arrows at Thresh's mutt. The dog is running toward the Cornucopia and is about to jump. Now's my chance. While she's distracted and can't aim one of her arrows at me. I look down to see Peeta on the ground by her left foot, and I go for it, grabbing him. My arm snakes around his neck, putting him in a headlock. I back up closer to the lip of the Cornucopia, ready to toss him over.
The boy grunts and tries to resist, but he's too weak. Probably from loss of blood, that and I'm already stronger to begin with. Katniss shoots her arrow and it slices deep into Thresh's dog's heart while the thing is in midair. The creature falls to the ground and Katniss finally turns around.
I gotta say, she's pretty slow. Why aim precious arrows down at mutts who can't even get to you when your real enemy, who's been after you the moment you were reaped, is sitting not ten feet away from you? And he's about to kill your district partner that you're supposed to be in love with? I mentally shake my head at her stupidity.
Katniss looks at me. Just looks. Not glaring, not looking with terror or fear, just looking. One thing I've failed to notice about her until now is that her face almost always has no emotion whatsoever. She has the same old pale, ugly face. Her plain, dull grey eyes give away nothing.
Most of the time.
She must not have woken up yet. She probably hasn't realized that she could die right now. Unless she doesn't care. I doubt she cares that much about Peeta, either; she probably hates the fact that she has to look like she's in love with him, some boring boy from back home who bakes cakes.
I know I care. I have to win. I was raised to win.
When Lover Boy struggles in my grip, I shift my weight, and the pain in my feet gets a million times worse.
She quickly lifts her bow and aims one of her last two arrows at me. This only makes me laugh out loud.
"Go on," I say, daring her. Blood bubbles in my mouth, so my next words sound garbled. "Shoot. Then we both go down and you win."
She doesn't shoot.
"Go on," I say, smirking. I know she won't shoot, but she should. "I'm dead anyway," I get out before a choke escapes my mouth. Katniss looks down for a split second, contemplating my words.
"I always was, right?" I continue. The words start to tumble out of my mouth and I shake my head nonchalantly. Peeta gasps a few times, his lungs begging for air. "I didn't know that until now." I shrug, or what counts for a shrug with me holding Peeta. Suddenly, anger fills me, anger because they, the Capitol, they tricked me. Tricked me into thinking I was the boss here. That I was the victor. But, in the end, they're always the victor, aren't they? I want to laugh, but there isn't any humor here. Not anymore. Because this isn't a game anymore. All my life I was raised to prepare for the Games. And maybe, at the time, I might have thought of it as meaningful and important. But it's only now, when I'm actually put into the Games and facing my death, I know I've been dead for a while. I haven't even been in control of my life; they just made me think so. They made everyone think so. "How's that, is that what they want!" I yell as loud as I can, looking up into the night sky, as if everyone in the country was up there and they weren't already hanging on to my every word. My lungs feel like they're about to die on me. I let my arm give a little to allow Peeta a sliver of air, to drag this out. That is what they want, isn't it? Then I pull my arm back in again, making Peeta choke, and Katniss, who has relaxed her bow, suddenly tenses up again. "Oh," I drag the word out with a sarcastic tone, because I think she thinks I should be scared of that bow and arrow. But I'm not. I pull my arm back even further, making Peeta's eyes almost bulge out, to make my point, even though the movement only reignites the pain in my shoulders. "Nah, nah," I shake my head with a humorless smile, "I can still do this," I say, tightening my arm around Peeta's neck once more, pain stabbing through my arm. "I can still do this. One more kill." I pause for a second, but I can't hold it in any longer. "It's the only thing I know how to do. Bring pride to my district."
I'm looking at Katniss, but I don't see her. It doesn't matter if I win. There's still going to be a Hunger Games next year, and the year after that, and the year after that. I don't make a difference at all. I thought I did. But I don't. "Not that it matters."
Then, out of nowhere, a piercing pain stabs through the bone in my hand and vibrates up my arm and through my whole body, making me cry out with unbearable pain. I feel a hard blow to my stomach. The next thing I know I'm not standing anymore. No, I'm falling. Falling straight down to the bloodthirsty Capitol killers waiting for me below.
I scream.
~*~*~X~*~*~
Clove
The big blond boy, Cato, falls straight down on us. A few of us back up so we don't get hit and once his body hits the ground, I sink my enormous, knife-sharp teeth into his body, biting as hard as I can, through his thick body suit. He screams like I've never heard anyone scream before, the sound filled with terror, pain and anger, and he calls out, but his words are unintelligible. He's already gone now, that's why. He lost the game. Not that he was ever going to win to begin with.
Even though Glimmer got hit by one of Katniss's arrows, she's still alive, and she's digging deep into Cato's stomach and intestines right next to me, trying to break through his ridiculously thick body suit. Marvel's going straight for the side of Cato's neck. I think of all the people Cato's killed in the arena just to win, and I laugh, the sound coming out as a fierce howl, because he could never win. None of the tributes could. The only people that win are the people in the Capitol. And those who are on the Capitol's side. Like me.
~*~*~X~*~*~
Cato
If Clove were still alive, this never would have happened.
Or maybe it would have anyway. I don't know. I don't really care anymore.
From the moment I hit the ground I feel paws, claws, and teeth everywhere, all over my body, scratching at me and biting at me and trying to tear me apart, limb from limb. I'm still screaming, because I can't take it, even though I've been trained my whole life to ignore the pain.
My sisters must be so disappointed. And my mother too. I can't help feeling like I failed them, because everyone was so sure I would win and I invested my whole life into the past two weeks. That and I never knew what the point of these Games really was until I lost. And I wasn't supposed to lose. I think of what it must look like to them that I'm dying right now, on television in front of the whole country. It must be so embarrassing to them. Back at home, everyone is probably treating them like they are outsiders, as we usually do to families of tributes that die in the arena. We're Careers. We're supposed to win.
I try to scream out the names. Clove. Mom. My sisters. Just to show them that I am still trying, that I'm still hanging on to my life. But how can I expect them to understand my garbled, torn screams when I can't even understand them myself?
I didn't understand a lot before today. Ever since I held my first sword. Ever since I watched my first Hunger Games. All this time, I thought winning these Games was possible. But the truth is these Games weren't made by the Capitol so we could win. No, they created the Games so only they could win. Not us. Not anyone in the districts, not even regular people in the Capitol. The Capitol is only using me. They use me and have always used me so they can win. They used Clove, too. And Thresh. And Finch. And Katniss and Peeta too. We're nothing to them but things. Pieces. Playing pieces in their games. And to me, that's not fair. They have no right to take my life away from me. But they'll do it anyway. This is when I realize that all this time, I've been after Katniss and Peeta and Thresh and everyone because I thought they were my enemies. But the real enemy here is the Capitol. The real enemy is this country's leaders. The people who put on the Games – Snow, Crane, Flickerman, all of them. The country itself, because the Games are what it stands for. It's like I can't even be myself because they have taken even that right away from me. Who knows if I am really myself, if they have made me violent and kill-obsessed ever since the day of my birth? How would I really be if the Games did not exist? I want to think about what life must have been like before Panem but my thoughts are not together anymore. I can't hear myself think over my bloodcurdling screams of pain and the growls and roars of these muttations. It is only now that they've begun to really tear into my skin, because they have just gotten past my body suit. I thought it hurt before, but this is more than a million times worse.
So, in reality, I was never truly myself, was I? I was only what they wanted me to be. Bloodthirsty. Merciless. A killing machine. I used to think it was unspoken of to let my enemies win; the other tributes, the other districts. But in reality, the real enemy, the real opponent, has been the Capitol all along. And they are winning.
I know my death has only just started. It's going to go on all night, I bet. But my mind stops working early on, within minutes. It's hard to think when you're being slaughtered alive while thinking this wasn't supposed to happen. You were raised to win, but none of it matters when you were born to die.
~*~*~X~*~*~
A/N: I mostly stuck with the book here, except for when Katniss and Cato face off because I liked what he said in the movie better. I hope you guys like how I put Clove the mutt's point of view, too. I mainly did it to show how much the Games messed with people's heads and manipulated them and stuff. Anywayyyy this is the last chapter, hope you guys liked this story! Thanks so much for all the reviews and support and all that, it really helped me a lot. Hopefully I didn't let you down with this ending… Don't forget to tell me what you think by reviewing, you might as well since you're already here, right?
