the girl who played with knives || clato ✔️

35

Cato

You'd think time would help to numb the wound, but it's just more painful at night as I'm walking amongst the trees that she could so easily climb. It's started to drizzle when I suddenly jump, the blare of the Panem anthem startling me. Oh, no, no, no... I look up at the sky, knowing what I'll see, just to see her one last time... and there she is, staring down at me so fierce, radiating power and intelligence. What can I do now? What is there that's left for me without her? My family? That's bullshit. Friends, Clove's the only one. And I couldn't bear to face her family without her. Knowing I'd failed. But... had I? I stare at the sky confused, am I seeing this right? It the rain just blurring my vision. Am I completely delusional? No, it's... it's really not her in the sky. It's Peeta. It's Lover Boy. The cannon earlier, it was him. Which means... Clove's still alive...

Clove

I open my eyes slowly, heavily, to see I'm surrounded by darkness. Where the hell am I? I sit up slowly, only to come reeling back down. My head throbs, and when I reach up I feel the stickiness of nearly dried blood. What happened? I remember Katniss... I attacked her. Did she do this? Did I lose? Did I miss? I never miss. No... no, it was Thresh, the tribute I'd feared so greatly. And it all comes painfully flooding back. He lifted the rock- slammed it down- the pain was unbearable- I passed out. But where? We were at the Cornucopia? Yes, the Cornucopia. I move my head slowly, gently, to see it silhouetted against a dark twilight sky. Cato's favorite color. It's raining, and even the cold pattering of the fat drops hurts my head. The wound is obviously pretty bad. How am I even alive? I wonder. How am I not dead? And- oh god- where is Cato?

I sit up very slowly, but it's still agonizing. My head reels. My arm aches. My stomach lurches.

"Ngh!" I groan, collapsing on my face in the mud, which just hurts more. I lie there, my tears mixed with the wet on the ground from the rain. I have to get to Cato. I crawl mere inches across the ground. And then I throw up, everything taken out of me, and fall on the ground limp. I cringe and attempt to push myself away from the acidic cesspool.

The anthem begins to sound, and I roll onto my back, twisting painfully to see the sky. It's honestly a surprise that I'm not up there. Instead it's the pathetic boy from 12. Peeta Mellark. He stares down with his blue eyes. So the wound Cato gave him finally became too much. And now it's just Cato and I and Katniss and Fynch and Thresh. Cato...? Cato. My love. My all. Where is he? He left me... does he think I'm dead? No, now that he's seen the sky, he surely knows I'm alive. But only barely breathing. My head has started bleeding again and it hurts so so bad. Oh my god... I can't even move. But I need shelter from the rain... if I could only get to the Cornucopia, it's not that far. A few yards. I roll back into my stomach and begin to drag myself towards the dark golden horn. Just a few more yards, two feet, one, and I'm here. I crawl all the way to the very back, shivering from the cold, then violently throw up again. God... I scramble backwards, panting. If only all the supplies hadn't gotten blown up and I could find a blanket or something...

I curl into a ball in the dark and listen to the rain hitting the metal horn. I shiver alone in the dark. The rhythm lulls me into a deep death-like sleep.

-

I wake to the sound of pebbles ricocheting off my bedroom window. Cato. I smile ruefully. This is our reaping day routine.

I whip my blanket off and cross to my closet. I'd had a nightgown on when I went to bed, but had taken it off because I was so hot last night. I'd woken up sweating buckets because it's the 1st of July and who isn't?

Layers of orange fabric.

"I can't help it if you smell like roses."

"We won't be picked. We'll be fine, Cato."