A/N: Well, here it is. The end of the end. THANK YOU TO ALL THE SWEET MESSAGES I'VE BEEN GETTING! I'm so glad you all enjoy my book enough to keep reading/voting/commenting on each chapter, even though I have 33 chapters and over 100 pages. I'd like to thank everyone who's been voting, because I KNOW how hard it is to obtain popularity on here, and let's just say I didn't know that when I first got a Wattpad. Shout-out to everyone who's given me all this support!! I hope you enjoy the last chapter!
~
CATO'S POV:
While Clove stands on the doorstep, nearly frozen, I see the dark-haired woman emerge from behind the red door and my throat goes cold. I gulp and my sweaty hands clasp each other behind my back. I can't believe it. Clove's mom. What's she going to think?
Enobaria opens her mouth and says in a very flat voice, "Get off my lawn."
"Wait--"I start to say.
"You heard me," she snarls. "Get your dirty Capitol feet off my property. You took my daughter's life, and you almost had mine twice. Get back to the city where you belong--"
"Mom!" Clove gasps, clearly horrified by her mother. "It's me?"
"Who?" snaps Enobaria.
"They didn't take her," Clove exclaims, throwing her pink wig to the ground, revealing her long black hair. "I'm still here. It's me, Clove."
Enobaria's expression freezes, almost like a statue, as she stares at Clove in a strange combination of shock and horror. "Clove...?" Her voice sounds strange, reminiscent of a cat's meow transformed into words.
"Yes," Clove says. "It's Clove."
Enobaria gives her a glance which, for a moment, seems to suggest that she believes her. But then it hardens unexpectedly and I, forgetting the wrath of Enobaria, am instantly reminded of her tough shell.
"You," she says, pointing at the brunette on the step, "are dead. And no amount of fooling can convince me otherwise."
"But Mom, it's not what you think!" she yells defiantly, and I know the old Clove is back. "We were rescued! We survived!"
"That does not make you a victor," Enobaria says coldly.
"Mom," Clove says firmly, "there are no victors. You know that. There's the one they call the winner, who holds out until the end, but she isn't a victor. You," she adds, pointing to her mother, "are not a victor."
The color vanishes from Enobaria, leaving her paler than I have ever seen her. She is still very young, perhaps less than twenty years older than Clove. From what I've heard, she became pregnant with Clove sometime shortly after her Games, after she met Clove's father, Trad, in the Capitol. But now, she seems older, even though she must only be in her early thirties. Something has changed about her walk, her appearance. And I know Clove's changed in the same way, as have I. It's... the Games. They've taken their toll on us, leaving us broken and alone. I don't know what happened to the jock from the District 2 Career Training Academy, but he's gone. And I stand in his place.
Clove is still Clove, and Enobaria is still herself, but they've both changed, Enobaria even more.
"You went back into the Games, didn't you?" Clove says softly to her mother, who refuses to meet her gaze. When she does not answer, I speak up.
"What about Brutus? Can we talk to him?"
"Brutus is dead," Enobaria says loudly, almost more to the sky than to us. "They are all dead."
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
TWISTED // Clato | ✓
फैनफिक्शनSeventy-four years has been long enough. The way of the infamous Hunger Games has been altered. No longer is every Gamemaker out to devise the worst means of torture and death for every tribute. No longer are the people of Panem outwardly toleran...
