The Games We Play

The Brawl

I finally had a ticket away from this place.

Armed with my sudden excitement, I hardly slept a wink last night and got up early in the morning. I prepared myself for battle, slipping on my vest and filing the knives I accumulated throughout my training under Magdalena in the knife pack. The day seemed to know my mood because the weather was bright and happy; my grandmother was even in the kitchen and the mouth-watering smell of her waffles filled our house.

"Good morning, Clove." The old woman looked up from her pan, "Do you want some waffles?" She didn't wait from my response because she went forward and piled up about three waffles on my plate. I followed her movements with my eyes while I ate. "You're early today," She spoke again, happiness ringing in her voice.

"Oh, I'm going training again today, grandma." I answered then took a big bite from the waffle.

Grandmother looked at me when she finished cooking, there were dozens of waffles on the plate which she placed on the dining table. "Good luck today, darling." She reached out and gave me a gentle pat on the head. When our eyes met, Grandmother's mint green eyes went unfocused for a moment before she stood up and left the room silently. Even though I don't follow her, I can see where she'd be heading and I wondered silently why she had episodes like that. I couldn't ask questions though; Grandmother wouldn't be sane or long enough to answer me and Magdalena does not allow questions.

Thinking about my life here, I wouldn't say I had a terrible childhood. My mother provided things for me, those that I need and those that I don't. I was never hungry in my life, unlike a handful of children here in District Two or in the other Districts. I also never had to work a day in my life, the only sweat and blood I shed were for training. Magdalena's motherhood, however, stopped there. She wasn't the 'motherly' type. Being raised by her, I didn't get kisses and hugs nor did I ever had my mother tell me bedtime stories.

It's not like I wanted them. I like being left alone. I like being treated like an adult and being independent. It's just... I tend to wonder, you know. What if she was like my grandmother who gave me pats in the head? What if she was the loving type? Would I have turn out the way I am now?

By the time I finish my waffle, I pushed away the distractions in my head. I don't need to think about these now, I have a spot to secure.

Cato Byrnes was already inside the Career Center when I arrived. He was examining his sword not far from my station, then he took out a cloth from his pocket and began polishing the already shining blade. He was concentrating on this alone and while he was doing that, I was watching him intently. I can recognize that look in his eyes, he had the same love for that long sword like I had with my set of knives. Although he trained with spears as well, I wouldn't say he liked it more.

"Clove," Calla's voice broke my thoughts, making both me and Cato acknowledge her presence behind me. "Today's the Tournament, remember?" Oh God, how can I forget? Weeks before the official Reaping, our Career Center, together with the other three Centers in the district, hold the annual tournament which included the potential tributes. The tournament were separated into two: the Male Division; and the Female Division. The trainees will all fight until one wins. The two winners will then get the permission of the District Head Trainer to volunteer. This way, in the Reaping, we won't have to have a brawl over who gets to volunteer for the spot in the Games.

I shook my head, "I didn't forget."

"Are you going to be watching?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. It would be very peculiar for me to watch, I never watch these Tournaments in the previous years.

"I thought I would, why?" It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

Cato came over, a big grin on his face, "Oh, you heard I'm going to compete, didn't you? You're going to support me?" He gave off a loud laugh, "How very sweet of you, little Clover."

"Shut up, you egomaniac. I don't need to watch you to know that you wouldn't stand a chance against the others. You're all brawns and no brains." I scoffed, "I can beat you with my eyes closed."

"Fat chance," He only smirked at me. Oh, you'll see. I'll be happy to wipe off that nasty grin on your face when I am about to slit your throat. "You seem to be forgetting what I did to you the other day. You know, when I beat you up? Not so tough now, huh?" Cato laughed once more. He turned around and marched away. I watch his retreating back with irritation. Slowly, I withdrew a knife from the knife pack I had in my hand. I dropped the pack down and ran towards Cato.

When I caught up with him, I grabbed a fistful of hair by the hand and pressed my knife in his throat. I pulled him down until my lips were pressed near his ear. "I can kill you anytime I want, Cato. Don't be sure I can't because I will." I whispered.

His face went from a momentary surprise to amusement, "Real cute, Clove." Cato raised his hand and grabbed mine, which had the knife threatening to cut his throat. His grip was steel tight and I can feel him twist my wrist, I don't let go. Even though I know he was going to injure my knife hand, I continue to press my knife in his neck. My eyes watched in contentment as a drop of blood rolled down the whiteness of his throat.

What I didn't expect was what he did next. Cato moved quickly, he removed my grip on his hair and twisted it around together with my hand with a knife. He held them both firmly behind me, a smile on his lips. "You don't know when to quit, do you?" He had his lips near my ear and unconsciously, I shivered when his breath made contact with my skin. Cato's hand gripped my wrist tightly making me drop my knife. He then threw me on the floor and laughed softly. "Two points."

I was on all fours, my eyes searching for my knife. When I saw it was inches away Cato, I decided to think of a way to grab it without him stopping me. Finally, I looked up at him. His eyes were on me, watching my every move with a calculating gaze. "Give it up, Clover." He shook his head, "You won't win against me."

"Fine, you win." I spoke with a small voice. That caught him by surprise. He didn't expect me to actually surrender. Cato gave out a sigh then stretched his long arms, he turned his back on me and started to walk away. I reached out for my knife, looked up from my position on the floor then with careful precision, made my blade whiz past Cato. It made contact with just inches from him, enough to make a tear on his pants and give him a deep wound in his leg. The big blond groaned in pain as my knife buried itself on the wall, "Gotcha."

I watched as Cato knelt, he clutched his leg with his hands to stop the bleeding before turning his blue eyes on me. One dangerous glint in his eyes made me stand up and rush towards my knife pack for defense but he had already caught the collar of my shirt. With his bloodied hand, Cato turned me around and wrapped his threateningly big hands around my neck and slamming me into the wall. The impact made me lose my breath and his grip was slowly taking my life away.

It was a good thing, I thought as my vision was slowly diminishing from the lack of oxygen, that someone decided to stop the fight.

"Hold it right there, Byrnes!"