They'd all heard of the ploy before; the kid or woman would lure you in and pretend to be injured or need help, then they'd lead you to the man, who would then promptly slaughter you.
Cato and Clove played that gambit differently though. It was the dashing Cato who was the bait, the friend, the fellow man, and it was darling Clove who was really the one to run from.
Marissa thought about that as she attempted to sleep. She was in her favourite place and all, the tiny hollow under her bed. Tradition dictated that under the bed was where the monsters lived, and she freely admittedly that she was no hero, hiding like she did.
There was barely enough space for her chest to rise and fall as she breathed in the cramped space, and yet there was only one gap through which she could wriggle into this tiny hollow and so she felt reasonably safe here.
For the first week or so, she would steal food in the mornings, but had stopped that little custom when Thresh died. Now Cato and Clove were on the lookout for her, which was reasonable, seeing as she was next to go. Katniss was untouchable as of yet, and her presence sheltered Peeta too. Rue was a dead weight, but attacking her would incur Twelves' wrath. Clove and Cato had each other.
It was Marissa, the red-head without allies, who would be killed next, and she was doing all she could do avoid that fate. She would stay awake all night out in the garden, and sneak back into the house when everyone else was asleep and take what she needed, and climb in the window and hide under the bed all day.
She knew in a day or two they'd get serious about looking for he, when it was down to the final three tributes or so, and they'd post guards in the kitchen then. Marissa was preparing for that; building up a stock of food and supplies slowly in the garden. You could survive three days without water. She could do it.
She slept out her days as much as she could. No one ever said the Games would be so monotonous. The challenges and competitions used to add a little spice, but she was glad they had died off, or she'd have to come out of hiding.
She dozed fitfully under the bed. It was hard to relax, knowing you could be found at any moment, but that fear was a part of her now, just like the hunger and boredom.
"Peekaboo," Clove said with glee, dropping over the side of the bed and looking directly at Marissa some hours later. Marissa had been asleep but she snapped awake and scrambled away; but Clove was stronger and tried to drag her out from under the bed.
Marissa did not scream but she did kick and claw at the dark-haired girl, who barely seemed to notice. Clove pulled at her legs but Marissa clung onto the bedpost like a child with a blanket. Clove was determined though, and stomped on her fingers until she let go, whimpering, and then Clove easily pulled her out from her sanctuary and straddled her, pinning her to the wooden floor.
Marissa could not move anything but her head. She knew that Clove would call out for Cato soon, for his help with the murder, and so before she could do so, Marissa lifted up her head from the floor and kissed Clove. It was a powerful and electrifying moment, like trying to subdue a storm, seduce her would-be murderer.
Clove was staying uncharacteristically quiet, so Marissa leaned in again. Their lips touched and it wasn't like kissing a boy at all- it was so soft, softer than she thought Clove could ever be. The dark-haired girl could still kill her on a whim, but with every second Marissa felt less scared, even if she was still pinned to the ground. She stared down the dark-haired monster and did not look away. Clove pushed her back after another few seconds.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, her eyes cold. "Aren't you curious?" Marissa replied, a queer confidence taking her. She looked at the girl who had slit Thresh's throat only days before, but who seemed so small now. She was just a teenager who had been finally caught by surprise, a kid like all the rest of them.
Clove was an expert at reading the faces, and Marissa looked at her with everything she wanted to say. Let-me-live, she screamed with her eyes. Think-of-the-points, she told the older girl soundlessly, think-of-the-scandal. Just-for-once-think. They stared at one another, still pressed close, and then surprisingly, Clove relented and moved off Marissa.
"Fine," she said finally. "I suppose you might have your uses for another few days, but if Cato finds you, I'm not protecting you. Got it?" "Yes Clove."