My body is all tensed up while I'm waiting for the spectacle to begin.

I'm hiding in the underbrush, my eyes fixed on the Cornucopia. I haven't seen any of the other tributes, but I know that Cato has to be somewhere near. He needs this medicine; otherwise he'll have a huge disadvantage in combat.

It's still dark in the arena. I know that every moment the sun will begin to rise, and I wonder what will happen next, because there aren't any signs of a feast yet.

I'm already afraid that the whole announcement was just another joke, some perfidious trick to round us up, when the first rays of sunlight appear on the horizon.

My jaw drops as something in front of the Cornucopia begins to move. There's a table coming out of nowhere; a table with four backpacks on it. They wear the numbers of the remaining Districts: Two, Five, Eleven and Twelve.

I'm still staring at the one with the Two on it when somebody starts running across the open field toward the table. Is it Cato? It mustn't be him! I swore myself I'd be there before him, and I would never forgive myself if he got into danger because of my slow reaction…

Then I see that it isn't Cato. It's the girl from Five, her red hair flashing in the early sunlight.

And suddenly my feet start to run. As if moved by some mysterious invisible force, I am breaking out of the underbrush onto the open ground, darting toward my aim like an arrow.

In my mind, there's only enough space for one thought: Faster!

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the girl from Five disappear into the woods.

My feet carry me towards the Cornucopia, towards the backpack with Cato's medicine, and I keep pushing myself further, knowing I have to be faster, faster –

There's another movement in my field of vision. I raise my head and spot Katniss on the other side of the field, running toward me at a high pace. In a split second, I've pulled out a knife and darted it at her head with all my force.

It would've hit her right in the chest if she hadn't noticed me and dodged just in time. I'm already reaching for the next knife as I sprint in her direction. My second throw is making her trip and fall to the ground. She's as good as dead.

We're so close to the feast that for a moment, I honestly consider grabbing my backpack and disappearing before anybody else does. Then I remember that I'm a Career; that this is my chance to eliminate another opponent, and I lunge at Katniss' stumbling figure.

She goes down again. I am on top of her, knife ready to slash her throat, but the eager look on her face causes me to make her death extra cruel, to provoke her a bit before she'll be released.

It's so pathetic how she keeps trying to free herself from my grip. She's wriggling and kicking and reaching for my hair, but all her attempts remain futile. I've got her nailed to the ground, determined to finish her off, and I'm doing it all for Cato.

"Wanna help Lover Boy?" I hiss at her, grinning viciously. "I'm so sorry to ruin your plans, sweetheart!"

And she's still fighting, still hoping she might make it out of here alive. I'm a bit surprised, maybe even disappointed, that she doesn't plead for mercy.

I've always liked the sound of someone begging for his life, mainly because it means this someone is completely under my control and powerless against everything I do. Seeing another person's helplessness reminds me of my own strength and makes me feel mighty. That's how I'm supposed to feel as a Career, right?

Well, if poor little Katniss isn't already pleading, I should probably make her. I press the blade of my knife at her throat, letting her just enough space to keep breathing.

"You know, it's cute that you're so strong-willed", I tell her while her eyes grow wider with desperation. "You really liked that little girl, didn't you? And now you're going to take revenge for her death! So cute… What was her name again? Rue?"

Anger crosses her face, but she knows she's not in the right position to show it. She starts struggling again, and I sigh.

"Okay, sweetheart, time to finish my work", I announce with a bored undertone. "It'll be easier for both of us if you keep still."

I raise my hand, my fingers clenched tightly around the knife, ready to bring it down into her face. Before I do, I give her my sweetest smile.

Goodbye, Katniss, I think. Never to be seen again.

But I don't get the chance to kill her. Somebody is grabbing me from behind and I'm lifted in the air by a pair of huge arms that can only belong to Tresh. He's pulling at my hair and I cry in pain, cry with full throat, while I'm hanging there a few inches above the ground.

I start kicking and try to drive my knife into Thresh's body, but his grip around my wrist is too tight.

"You killed her?" the giant rumbles, enormous rage flooding his voice. "You killed Rue?"

I notice how Katniss is slowly drawing away from us, stumbling backward until she has reached the table. I can't believe she's made it. I watch her taking a backpack and running off into the woods.

If I weren't in such pain, I would be unbelievably annoyed that she's still alive. But I can't concentrate on my escaped prey now. The pain is filling me out, filling out even the tiniest part of my body, and all I can do is cry out like an insane.

Then I see the rock in Thresh's hand; the last thing I see before my vision starts blurring. And that's the last straw. I struggle for my life. I open my mouth and yell Cato's name with all the power I have left. I put every bit of hope into that cry.

I don't want to die. That's all I can think of.

I was never supposed to die. I am a Career.

Somehow, I've always thought it would be hard to kill me. Being a Career has felt like a life insurance for me: I was supposed to be the hunter, not the prey. Being a Career meant staying alive.

I realize now how stupid I've been. From the moment I went into the arena, I've felt inviolable, indestructible, immortal. But things can change very quickly.

Thresh is lifting his hand with the rock and he's going to crash my skull with it. I know it. It's going to happen in less than a second. It's ironic that I'm going to have such an easy, unopposed death. I just hope I'll be dead right away.

"Cato!" I bring out one last time, already too weak for anybody to hear.

I'm numb with pain. I try to forget my inevitable death by thinking of Cato, by imagining that he's coming to rescue me, by seeing his tall figure in front of the trees, nothing but a distorted shadow with blurred edges.

But it's unmistakably him. And he's calling my name.

"Clove!" It's coming from a distance. Am I dead already? What's happening here?

Cato's voice is growing louder and I try desperately to make out his figure, but all I see is the rock in Thresh's hand dashing directly at my face.

I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the impact. It doesn't come.

There is no pain, no flashback of my life passing in front of my eyes; there's simply nothing.

The rock did not hit me. I am not dead.

But I am falling, falling to the ground, and Thresh's hands around my wrists are gone, and he's no longer pulling at my hair. I feel damp soil in my face, soil everywhere, but no pain.

Human noises come to my ears from above: gasping, sighing, moaning.

The sounds of a fight. The sounds I've known since I was a child, since I began training at the academy. These sounds are more familiar to me than my own voice.

They don't hold on for long, though. The fight ends with a slash, like metal meeting flesh, and the dull downfall of a dead body. Seconds later, the cannon fires.

It's over.

"Clove", I hear Cato's voice again, closer this time.

I am pulled onto my back and there he is, kneeling right beside me, his face still swollen but covered with relief. I reach for his hand and squeeze it tightly.

"Thank you", I whisper. Then I start choking, and I see blood coming out of my mouth, a lot of blood.

"It's okay", Cato says softly. "He's dead and you're alive. We're gonna make it, okay?"

I nod and I can't help but smile. Cato smiles back, smiles at me whole-heartedly.

"That was close", he mutters, probably more to himself than to me. "That was really close."