Survival of the Fittest - Clato fanfic (Alternate ending to NTI)

Chapter 10

Clove's POV

I toss and turn in my bed, unable to get any real sleep thanks to the ghoulish nightmares that invade my dreams. Dead faces, pools of blood, a rusting victor's crown, Snow's leering face. One after the other they flash across my brain. Opening my eyes doesn't lend me an escape either. The visions stay with me, imprinted on my brain.

As the first lights of dawn appear through the crack in the magenta curtains, I scream into my pillow. Cato isn't being kept awake by nightmares. He's sleeping peacefully in his bed, enjoying his first real night out of the arena. He won't look like a zombie during our interviews this afternoon. No real victors would. A real victor would be able to ignore the guilt they're supposed to feel over the people they've killed. A real victor wouldn't hide their victor's crown underneath a pile of Capitol clothes in their dresser. A real victor would be yearning to get home and bask in the praise of their district. I would know. In the brief twelve years of my life that I can remember with clarity, District 2 has had three victors. They all return more beautiful and untouchable than before. So why do I feel like the world is about to cave in and suffocate me?

I roll over onto my back, pulling my face away from the pillow and inhaling deeply. The clock, which conveniently projects the time onto the ceiling, tells me that it's not yet seven o'clock. I'm probably the only person in this entire building who's awake – except for the Avoxes. Everyone else is enjoying the lazy morning of a late-starting day. Our interview isn't until three.

Which means my prep team won't be here until after lunch. Which won't start until close to noon. Which means no one will be up until close to eleven. Which means I have four more hours of either fighting off waking nightmares, or finding some way to entertain myself.

I choose the second option.

Rolling out of bed, I place my bare feet on the soft, carpeted floor and make my way to the bathroom. One look in the mirror tells me that I'll need to stay here for a while if I plan on looking at all presentable when the rest of them wake up. Real victors don't look like undead Capitol Muttations.

I don't feel like dealing with wet hair, and my prep team will just wash it later anyway, so I tie my long hair up into a bun on top of my head before stepping into a steaming hot shower. I scrub slowly at every inch of my skin, marveling at the perfection of it. They've removed every blemish, every scar. My hands, which used to be covered in tiny, almost invisible scars, are now flawless.

I try to take as long as possible, allowing the fragrance of the sudsy soap to wash over me as the hot water runs down my back. But I can only spend so long in the shower, and after I brush my teeth, throw on a robe, and step back into the bedroom, I'm depressed to find that the clock reads only fifteen past seven. Wonderful.

I cast a hesitant glance at the door leading out of my room as I walk over to my dresser. The loose, soft pants and hoodie-like shirt slip on easily over my undergarments. Once my head emerges from the slightly too large top, I make a bee line for the door. No one else is up anyway, so what's the harm? Still, when I reach the handle, I turn it slowly and ease the door open gently, closing it soundlessly behind me before slipping into the main of the apartment.

A noise from the dining area catches my attention and distracts me from my repetitive thoughts. Turning my head towards the sound, I hear bare feet moving on the cold floor, more scraping noises, and smell the enticing aroma of bacon wafting towards me. My stomach lets out a pleading rumble, and I realize I didn't eat very much last night. Praying that it's just an Avox setting out our breakfast, I head to the dining room and the continuing noise.

I'm so surprised to find Cato standing there, his back to me, that I'm momentarily frozen in place. A sharp intake of breath alerts him to my presence and he glances over his shoulder as he shovels more eggs onto his plate. His face is blank as he nods in acknowledgment and returns to the food in front of him. After another moments hesitation, I walk to the end of the buffet table and pick up a plate.