My final story to be told~ Cato's story (hungergames)

(3) A goodbye is nearby

(3) A goodbye is nearb

The nightmare keeps repeating itself in my head. This is already the fifth time I experience the horror of being skinned and drowning in the ocean. I can't help it to see Ycie's mad look in his eyes before I drown, the eyes of judgement. Thanks nightmare, now I'm going to think that it's my fault he died through drugs. Well it isn't my fault. He took an overdose, I didn't put it in his mouth. I even warned him. Why do I have to be punished with a feeling of guilt. I didn't do anything. 

I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom. The sink is still a bit red of the blood but not for long. I open the tap and water is running out, dirty water with rust. We have to let the tap run for a little bit because the mayor doesn't want to spend money by renewing the old pipelines. Thank you mayor for the rusty water. The mirror shows me how terrible I look. This night hasn't done me any good. My chin is rough through the tiny hairs of what could become a beard. I need to shave myself. I sigh. On reaping day we have to be neat and clean. Or in my case as clean as possible. The water running from the tap is now clear, the sign which shows that it's clean. With my hands I make a bowl, put it under the tap, let it fill with cold water and throw it in my face. I was sleepy before but now I'm woken up by the refreshing water. While the water is still running from the tap I drink some of it. I put the tap so slow it only drops little droplets of water.

I grab my dad's shaving knife and his shaving foam. I slowly press on the button for shaving foam. White foamy and smelly stuff comes out of it. I stop when I got my hand full and rub my hands together so I have foam on both hands. I cover my cheeks, the area between my lips and nose and chin with the shaving foam. I can't help it to move my nose up and down through the smell. I wet the knife with water and carefully start at the top of my left cheek with shaving. Small parts at a time because I don't want to cut myself.  The wounds you get of shaving are small, painful wounds. I get the knife of my cheek, it's filled with foam and here and there you see tiny, blonde hairs. I put it under the tap and let the tap run instead of dripping droplets. The foam and hairs are being washed of and the knife is clean again. Again I shave a small part, wash it and repeat. I do this the whole time untile there's no foam left. I throw some water in my face and let it drop down so it can take the final bits of dirt away, tiny spots of shaving foam. I grab a towel out of the closet and dry my face. With my left hand I go over my cheecks and chin, it's soft and there aren't any wounds. I smile and walk with confidence to my room. Maybe this day won't be so bad after all and think about my decision. Totally not going to be a bad day. I put the shaving knife in the medicine locket where it's secure.

*Flashback*

I hear the sound of glass breaking from downstairs. The noise which wakes me in the early morning. A mostrous yell. Barefooted and wearing an old pyjama, I get out of bed. The little bit of sunlight in my room comes from a small hole in the wall. I can see the ray of light because of all the dust. I open the door and towards the stairs. The noises of yelling becomes louder as I walk downstairs. The old wood is cracking when I stand on it with my weight, not much but it's a old and bad staircase. Downstairs I see shattered glass spread on the floor. I look down and see my bare feet. "IT WASN'T MY FAULT ACIA." I hear my dad yelling against my mom. I have no idea what they're 'talking' about. A noise of someone subbing. Mom. My mom sobs. I can't bear the sounds so I try to walk across the hallway but my father comes into the hallway. His eyes red because of drugs, puke on his shirt and a smell of alcohol. I stand in the middle of glass shatters and my dad stands a couple of meters away from me, he isn't sober and he looks mad. "Sorry that I'm awake daddy." I say as I slowly do a step backwards. He throws a bottle of liquor against the wall behind me. It breaks and the shatters of glass come in my calfs. I turn around and run up the stairs as hard as possible. It wasn't that quick because there were little pieces of glass in my calfs, I was four and my father was much quicker. He grabbed me and took me towards the bathroom. I was thrown on the ground and his foot put pressure on my back. He took something from the sink and sat on his knees with my body behind it. "Cato,  my son, what have I told you about eavewhispering? " he asks me. I ws frozen to the ground after I saw what he had in his hands. A shaving knife. He took out my shirt and shook his head in disappointment. "I'm sorry." I yell nervously as the knife comes closer to my bare skin of my back. "Actions comes with reactions, the reaction of punishment this time." says my dad. He sounds a bit sad but he has no idea what he is feeling because he is stoned and drunk. I know the knife has entered my back when I feel a sudden pain. I can feel the warm blood flowing out of my body through the wound. From my lower back my father cuts a cut all the way till my shoulder blades. "Hopefully you learned something." says my dad as he stands up and washes the knife clean. My dad puts the knife back by the sink and leaves the bathroom. When he almost closes the door I hear him saying "Weakling.". I lay there crying and bleeding out the whole day. Or at least that is how it felt.