Born to Kill, Not to Love

by Nacho the Greato

Is Clove really the vicious and unforgiving tribute she appears to be, or is she just misunderstood? This is the Hunger Games from Clove's perspective. R&R please, I love constructive criticism. And if you have any better ideas on the title, that would be great. I promise it's a lot better than the image I chose for it :

3. Enough for Me

This one is a tad bit longer than the others. I hope you like it. I'll try to write more soon!

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"We've got to get some sleep," I said to him, finally pulling away.

"Come on then," he said, leaping up.

Cato pulled me towards the elevator. It was a very silent ride down to the second floor. When we got down there, Cato followed me towards my room. When we got there, he grabbed my hand and pulled me inside.

"Cato-," I never got the chance to finish my sentence because he kissed me.

"You talk too much," he told me.

"You don't talk enough," I countered.

He kissed me again. It was another hungry kiss. Hungry and vicious, just like Cato. Hungry and vicious, just the way I liked it. He pushed me towards the bed, his arms, strong around my midsection. I moved my hand up to his head, feeling the softness of his hair. That moment was probably the best in my life. Knowing that someone loved me just the way I was. Knowing that just being "me" was enough for someone.

Cato pushed me into the bed, still kissing me. You wouldn't imagine what it's like, when you can just be yourself. Knowing that being "you" is enough for someone… it's the best feeling in the world. For a moment, just a moment, I forgot about District 2. I forgot about the Hunger Games. It was like the entire world was just Cato and me.

Cato's hands moved up my shirt.

"No," I said firmly.

"Why? This would be our only chance," he told me.

"Don't you think I know that?" I asked him.

He sighed, settling himself next to me.

His arms were firmly around my midsection, cradling me. Cato was the only person that knew me for who I really was and accepted me.

After a long time, I asked, "So this is how you've always felt?"

"What?" he responded.

"Like you're never going to be anyone," I clarified.

Cato didn't say anything.

"I feel like I have something to prove to everyone in District 2. They all think I'm just some small girl that has a talent with knives," I told him.

"But you're not," he protested. "You're much more than that. You could win the Games."

"I couldn't. That means you would be dead. Then I couldn't win. I would kill myself before I let that happen," I told him.

"Don't say that," he said.

"I don't want to become a mindless slave of the Capitol. I want to stay me, even if it's not enough for everyone," I continued.

"It's enough for me," Cato told me.