TWISTED // Clato | ✓

Chapter 4: Nonexistent Hope

"Brutus is mentoring Clove as well," Werret blurts out before Clove has a chance to say anything. Not that she would have, though. Werret continues, unaware of our coldness. "We figured Brutus would be a good fit for you two. For brutality!" He starts laughing hysterically at his own joke while Clove and I just sit avoiding each others' gazes.

"What is this?" I ask finally, trying to break up the awkwardness. My plate is covered with a mountain of nachos and some slippery dark meat I'm trying to place.

"Cow's tongue," Werret says matter-of-factly, and I hear Clove let out a small strangled cry like a wounded animal. Stunned, I turn to her, but she's clapped both hands over her mouth. Now she leaps to her feet so quickly she overturns her chair. Without bothering to pick it up, she charges from the room, banging the door open and then closed behind her.

"Has the girl got extreme nerves?" Werret asks worriedly, but I don't answer because I know what she's up to. The cow's tongue reminded both of us of our date at the Black 'en White cafe. That glorious evening, neither of us had been hindered by regrets or awkwardness. We had been open books for each other, and we were supposed to have been in agreement.

I feel suddenly overwhelmingly guilty. And I can't think about eating cow's tongue, not when the taste instantly brings to mind that evening when everything had been almost perfect. Almost. Neither of us should have volunteered. Then this wouldn't have happened. We could have been happy in District 2. But I know that it would have been impossible. Careers who have trained their whole lives yet refuse to volunteer are severely looked down upon.

I slide my cow's tongue nacho away and stand up. "I'm not very hungry," I mumble to Werret before I head for the opposite door.

"The cow's tongue isn't poisonous!" Werret exclaims, alarmed and confused. I ignore him, slamming the door shut behind me.

CLOVE'S POV:

I lie on my stomach on my too-stiff bed while forbidden tears begin to pool in my eyes. The girl with the knives isn't supposed to cry. She's supposed to look tough, at least on the outside. It's the District 2 standard.

But I don't care anymore what the District 2 people's standards are. They've just about ruined my relationship with Cato. There's no way we're both going to survive, and if we did, how would it ever be the same?

I still want to be with him, and I can see he does too. But the stupid reaping's changed everything, including my hopes of winning. I can't win without Cato dying!

The Avox is knocking, but I don't feel like answering. Instead, I turn over onto my back and stare at the broken chandelier that sways in rhythm with the movement of the train. Sighing, I toss a knife up at it. It lodges itself between two crystal fixtures.

More knocking sounds, but it's louder and more demanding. Finally, I drag myself over to the door and swing it open. I stiffen instantly as I'm met with a huge, tough-looking broad-shouldered man. He is bald, and his face only displays contempt, as though he's already mad at me for something even though we haven't even met.

"Hello," I manage to say.

The dude lifts his arms and crosses them over his chest. "Hello, Miss Kentwell. If you want to live up to your name and follow in your mother's footsteps, you must listen to every word I say." He lifts a warning finger, which is as thick as a sausage. I inhale deeply.

"Yes--sir. You're... Brutus, right?" I attempt.

He nods. "And I will address you as...?" He makes a questioning gesture.

"Clove," I reply, trying to sound haughty like my normal self. But I'm feeling somewhat intimidated by this beast. "Er--good night." I attempt at shutting the door, but he thrusts out his foot and blocks it.