Our Love Could Be Lethal

Act II: Wake Up and Smell the Death

The song for this chapter is "Chelsea's Dagger" by The Fratellis.

Octavia's POV

Haymitch must have said something to the Peacekeepers because I don't hear their heavy, lead-like footsteps chasing after me. I do, however, hear the light and bouncy footsteps of Finnick behind me. But there's no stopping for him.

I strut through the lobby so fast that I can feel my ponytail lift off of my back, being carried away by the wind created by my speed. Just like Clove's hair when she was thrown around by Thresh, I think to myself. If Thresh had just minded his own business, played by the rules and not let someone go in the Hunger Games, things could have been different now.

All of the screens in the lobby are playing some sappy segment with Katniss in her cave, snuggled into the side of Peeta. Not a single one showing Cato who is probably still breaking down because his story, the story of him and Clove, isn't the one they care about. It isn't part of their show. Careers don't get to be sad.

I look up at the betting odds board to see Clove's row dark and greyed out. Her once moving portrait stopped permanently, just like her heart.

The sights and the sounds of the lobby suddenly become too much, I want to fight my way out, but I don't even know where to start or where to go. But my legs continue to carry me, weaving around the bodies of rainbow-tinted skin and mile-high hair.

I manage to make it into the elevator before Finnick does and push the close button rapidly. I think I've done it until Finnick sticks his hand in through the crack at the last minute, making the doors open back up. He shuffles inside and presses the close button.

Once the doors close, the facade of Finnick Odair fades away. The persona he puts on for the show melts off as if it's ice on a hot summer day. "You okay?" he asks, concern flooding his voice.

"It was my responsibility to bring her home Finnick," I say, not bothering to move my eyes from the doors of the elevator.

"Vee, you have to know that they weren't going to let them both win. I know you don't want to hear this right now, but if it came down to it, I don't know if Cato would have been able to do it. But she...she might have."

Finnick is right. If Cato had to take out Clove himself, he would only return to me as the shell of the strong boy he was. Though it seems I may only be getting the shell back anyway. It's easy to see that the moment the cannon went off, a piece of Cato's heart broke off with it. Something else had happened too; something changed inside of him. The realization of what he's really doing has set in. He's realized the horrors of the Hunger Games.

Yet, there's something else that's bothering me about Clove's death. Something is nagging at me, eating me alive from the inside out and I can't put my finger on it so I go over a list in my head. Clove died. She's dead. Thresh hit her so hard he dented her skull with a rock. My brother lost his best friend. She was my protege and I let her down. She was my protege and she looked like she was about to enjoy slicing Katniss into ribbons. That's it.

"She was going to torture that girl from 12, and she was going to enjoy it," I blurt out loud. "And if I'm the person she looked up to what does that say about me? Hm? What kind of person does that make me?" My eyes grow mistier with every word, nothing holding me back anymore.

I am a monster. I allowed my brother to enter the Hunger Games, and just like he is realizing right now, I'm realizing that I don't want to play anymore.

"It doesn't make you anything. The academy brainwashed her long before you got to her," says Finnick. "The only reason you even went back was to protect your brother."