A Thousand Years. (A Clato Fan Fiction) {Editing}

Chapter 15 "The Finale" {Edited}

Cato’s PoV

The bag, labelled with 2, lays there, among a range of food and other supplies. I take it, curious about what the Gamemakers think Clove and I desperately need. Also picking up his backpack and curved sword, I return back to my camp. My leg has been bleeding rampantly, right through the piece of cloth I had wrapped around it. I grunt, limping, taking a seat on the moist ground. The cannon finally roars, the birds shrieking and scattering away.

“I have avenged you, Clover.” I smile, tilting my head up towards the sky, wondering how she’s doing, wherever she is. “Hope you’re doing okay. Please be okay.”

Rummaging through the sturdy bag from the Feast, I pull out two pairs of armour, one large and the other small and feminine. They gave us something for battle. Maybe they do want us to win. But there is no ‘us’ anymore, just me, all alone and heartbroken. Should I just let myself die? Or should I win? Winning was my dream. Key word: was. No, actually, my dream was to win, but with Clove –or was it for Clove to win? I will never truly know my motives as an adolescent.

Fitting on the robust armour, and strapping on my sword, I sit down, grunting. My legs drum, to the beat of my aching heart, the blood still leaking out. This time I wrap the bag from the Feast around my leg, and it soaks up all the blood. Howling, my stomach calls for something, anything, to devour in shreds. Everything hurts. A parachute falls nimbly through the canopy, lodging itself on a rock besides, I reach out, using my elbow for support, grabbing it after scratching it a few times. The container is warm, and once I open it, there are two little compartments.

I’m sorry about Clove. Here’s some medicine and food. – Brutus and Enobaria.

Once I open one, steam arises almost instantly into the cold, brutal air. I sip on it, as I open the other one.  The other has a sweet smelling cream, thick and oily, which I predict is medicine for my wounds. Untying the tight knot on my thigh, I take a generous amount of cream and rub it into the wound. After a few minutes of agonising burning, it feels better. I recline, my head against my backpack, the night sky directly above me. Clove would be stargazing right now, but not at the stars, at the life she once had. The anthem begins to play, the squares appearing in the sky. Blue luminesces on the ground, a holographic image of Clove appearing, along with the girl from 5, and Thresh. My heartstrings tug when everything comes to me. I just want to see her face once more. Not a holographic image, but her face. The one I used to kiss, the one I used to gaze at. But I’m slowly forgetting her, like every memory is forgotten, without notice. It’ll never be fathomed why humans forget something we once loved so easily. Maybe it’s a side effect of losing someone.

I sleep all my sorrows away.

***

I am awaken to the sound of howling. It’s as if I’ve been asleep for two minutes, when in fact, I’ve been asleep for a countless number of days. The ground is wet, my pants damp from the constant rain in the days I’ve been out. Echoes of the howling continue, but only faint and muffled. It’s the finale, isn’t it? Now my biggest dilemma, should I go home? Or should I stay, and die with my dignity?

All I want is to see Clove. The only way to do that is to die. But being mauled by a beast is not the way I want to die. I will not go down without a fight, but my death will seem like an accident, although it will be intentional. This is my only escape from this madness, this insanity that her death is bestowing upon me. Death is the only way out.