We sat apart on the train, not talking and unmoving.

Both of us desperately were trying to comprehend the actuality of what our parents had told us.

Stick with the Career pack, they are your best bet at survival.

However, never trust them.

They are just waiting for the opportunity to stab you in the back.

Beat them to it.

One of you will eventually die and, if necessary, the other will allow it to happen.

The list prattled on and on, until finally I could no longer stand the blaring silence.

"What are we going to do, Cato?" I mumbled, unsure if he would even respond to me. What seemed like a simple question had turned into a never-ending struggle between what we were trained to do and what we wanted to do.

It took him so long to respond that I thought he was going to ignore me completely.

"We're going to do whatever it takes" Cato said simply, as if it were that easy.

"I don't understand" I said, now angry. How could just accept what our parents had said? How could he be void of all emotion, even his usual rage? How could he have not want to fight this?

He just looked at me as a certain tiredness that I had never seen before crept into his eyes.

"Don't you get it, Clove? We can't win. Not both of us anyways" he said what I'd like to think was a little sadly. "Sure, we're going to try, and we're going to get as far we can, but when it comes down to it, only one us can win."

I stared at him, unblinking, as a frown formed on my face.

This is not what he was supposed to be saying.

"God Cato, you're such an idiot" I muttered as I bit my lip and took off for my private compartment on the train. When I reached the room, I slammed the door and threw myself on the lavish bed. Why were there beds on this train, anyways? We were on it for maybe a maximum of 3 hours.

I couldn't believe what Cato had said though. He had always been one to speak his mind, but this was a whole new level of cruel. To tell me that he was going to have no problem killing me had really shaken me, and I obviously had not come to the realization that maybe, I was going to have to be the one to finish him off as well.

Could I do it?

Could I take the life of my best friend? Okay, maybe he was somewhat more than that, but still.

In the heat of the moment, would I have the ability to aim my knife and plunge it into the heart of Cato?

Anger, rage, and frustration overwhelmed me, and I slashed my knife through one of the down pillows, sending feather flying about the room. Blindly, I took another stab at the bed, shooting another puff of feather high into the air. Once I had virtually destroyed the bedding, I moved onto the portraits. Slash marks and deep gouges now littered the various painting hung throughout my room, tables were flipped on their sides, and vases were shattered on the floor.

I stepped to admire my work as I retrieved my knives from their positions strewn around the room. As I tucked them back into the various hiding places in my clothing, I head for the door to go back to the main compartment on the train. It's time to get off and enter the chaotic Capitol.

Cato and I were forced to stand shoulder to shoulder, but I didn't mind so much now.

He tried to talk to me, but I ignored him. To be honest, I didn't even hear what he had started to say.

The deafening roar of the citizens of the Capitol combined with my conscious effort to tune him out had drowned out his voice entirely. From the corner of my eye, I saw his lips moving, but no noise was produced.

We stepped of the train and glanced around, our masks coming on to hide our true emotions.

These faces were to say that we were bored. That we were ruthless. That we were not afraid to kill.

Cato's cocky grin, my sarcastic smirk. These would become our trademarks.

But underneath the strong, united exterior that we provided, Cato and I were broken.

The unanswered question that had been festering in the back of my mind sprung to the surface once again, but this time I had an answer.

When the time came, and it was to determine my survival in the Arena, could I bring myself to kill Cato?

Cato, the boy with the sword.

Cato, my first kiss.

Cato, my best friend and possibly the only person whom I actually loved.

The answer was difficult, but simple.

Yes. Yes I could.

A Note From The Author;

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