Clato: The Cost of a Broken Heart

Chapter 8

CLOVE

I am covering my pillow in tears when there is a knock on the balcony door. God I never thought I'd be the kind of girl to cry into her pillow like some sort of stupid damsel in distress. More rapping on the window. I know who it is before I look up. Cato. Why does it have to be Cato?

But I know it is only my own deep seeded anger that it cannot be Cato who saves me that makes me hate how he is the one here, saving me. I sit up, stare at him blankly. I'm sure I look terrible but he's seen me when I'm worse. Wow, my life has been diminished to whether or not I've been worse. Well, I've certainly been worse.

"Let me in Clover," Cato pleads, "You have to let someone in." But I can't. Every time I do I get hurt. Even with Cato.

Standing up, I walk towards the door as if I am going to unlock it, as if I am going to let him in. "I'm sorry about what happened. I don't know how Favian found you and I don't know why they wouldn't leave good enough alone because I know they don't care about you like I do and I just don't know." Cato takes a deep breath. His blue eyes find my dead green ones. I block him out.

When I reach the door, Cato lays his hand on the glass. I reach up and match my hand so that, if the glass were gone, it would be touching his. My hand trembles against the door. Cato lets out a breath and attempts a smile. He thinks I am giving in. But I think I am actually saying goodbye. Not for good. Not forever. Just until I figure out how to survive without him. Because I can't have him.

Cato's blonde hair is rumpled. There's a scratch on his hand, presumably from climbing the side of my house. It's now I notice the purple-blue patterning of a bruise winding its way along Cato's neck. The reddish tint to the whites of his eyes.

For a second I am tempted, sorely tempted, by the possibility of unlocking this damn door and throwing myself into Cato's arms. To wrap my legs around his waist and kiss him so hard that I forget all the reasons why we shouldn't. I want to. I want to so badly.

But I don't. I pull the blinds closed so I don't have to see his face as I shout, "Leave me alone Cato! Just leave me the hell alone! Did you ever think, maybe I don't want saving?" Even as I say it I know it is a lie. But I say it anyway. Nevertheless, there is a small part of me that wants Cato to ignore me and find a way. As I back away, I find myself hoping he doesn't give up on me.

"No! Clover! Clover open the goddamn door!" He shouts. Where our hands almost-touched Cato's curls into a fist. He punches the glass door over and over. A tiny crack forms but I know it won't give way. "Clover! Clover! Let me in!" But it is too late. I collapse on the bed, feeling as though every crack Cato smashes is a crack in me.

Eventually, the pounding stops. Eventually, Cato gives up. He gives up on me.

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CATO

I can't do this anymore. My fist falls to my side outside her door. God, I think, why are you doing this to her? To us? Sometimes He answer me, but today He is silent.

I try to justify Clove's reasons for pushing me away. Maybe she's overwhelmed. Maybe it's because I'm a guy and she's had horrible experiences with the male gender. Maybe it's because she's obviously struggling and she wants to spare me watching her fall apart--because every time it kills me. Every damn time.

Or maybe she doesn't want me around anymore. Maybe whatever we had is gone or buried or never was to begin with. So I remind myself that it doesn't matter why she's pushing me away anyway because this is the only way to keep the people we love safe. But she is a person I love, and I cannot keep her safe. Am I in love with her? I don't know. But at the very least I love her like a friend does, and probably a lot more.

Climbing down her house proves to be trickier than climbing up. My palms are torn open by the brick edges. I slip the last few feet and land awkwardly on the cement. My shoulder hurts, but that's from last night so I'm pretty sure there's no serious damage.

I could go home to Scarlet, the only person I'm protecting with all of this. She likes to spend time with me. She's in that adorable phase where everything is cute about her and she always wants to sword fight with me. Scarlet's turned out to be a little genius as well because she plays chess all the time and is good enough to beat me. That could be because I'm a terrible chess player but I'm proud of her the way a big brother should. I can't help but wish Ryan were still around to have these moments with her as well.

Over the years I've trained myself not to think about Ryan, my brother who died in the Games. It's kind of impossible because the only reason I started to care about the Games was to take Ryan's place. To earn the victory for my parents because Ryan never could. Scarlet has already lost one brother and every day I feel like I'm slipping away. I don't want her to lose me too. But I can't seem to help it.

Instead of heading to my house in the Victor's Village, or to my parents' house, I turn left and find myself on a familiar path. I only found this place a day or two after we got back to 2 but already I'm haunting it.

Ducking behind a quiet shop, I climb down a flight of wet cement stairs. I emerge in a gritty, dim room that's packed with people. A few guys notice me and nod but I ignore them. It adds to my charm and if they don't see it that way it's not like they can hurt me. They've seen what kind of beast I am.

"You fighting tonight?" Josie asks me. She's missing a few teeth and is several sizes too big for her jeans.

"Put me in on the next match," I call to her. One of my new acquaintances, Link, hands me a roll of tape and I set to work taping my hands up for the match. He prattles on as I work but shuts up when I glare at him. I'm not in the mood to deal with people like him right now. I came here to blow off some steam and that's what I'm gonna do. Josie calls my name. Bets are taken. I can't help but notice there is an overpowering bias towards my victory. Cause I'm a Victor, right? Not funny, I tell myself. I find myself doing that a lot these days, talking to myself.

The crowds of sweaty guys with alcohol on their breath forms a ring. I toe the chalk line in the floor, stepping in to face my opponent. The guy's around 5' 10" with a burly mustache and thick arms. Tattoos of several whales line his triceps.

Great man, go whales. Shut up. I really need to stop talking to myself.

I pull my shirt off and toss it to Link. It's hot in here and I find it easier to fight without. All the stuff my mother used to buy me is far too fancy for my taste. My shorts hang loose on my thin waist and I can't help but notice the look of fear in mustache guy's eyes as he takes in my six pack.

Josie hollers like a banshee and the fight begins. Mustache takes a sloppy swing for my head that I duck. I undercut him right below the ribs. Kicking him in the groin causes Mustache to back up and eye me warily. There are no rules to these fights except no weapons and no killing. I lunge forward, punching Mustache in the face twice and then spinning out of reach. Mustache chases after me and I find myself in his insanely tight grip. He puts me in a choke hold but I flip him over me with ease, slamming him into the ground.

I give Mustache a minute to get up. I don't want the fight to end so early. When he staggers to his feet, I misjudge how dizzy he is. Mustache comes at me with a left hook that pulverizes my nose. There's a definite crack. With blood trickling down my face I start to feel better. The pain makes things good again.

Adrenaline rushing, nothing but the fight, I attack Mustache with brutal ferocity. He goes down quick after that and Josie blows her whistle.

"Another win for Blondie!" I asked her to use Blondie as my fighter name. A few people here know who I really am but I'd rather not advertise it. I try not to dwell on the name. I don't know why I picked it other than Clover sometimes calls me that.

Link comes over with my shirt but I refuse to take it. "Put me in for the next one!" I yell to Josie.

"You're going in again?" Link says, incredulous.I wipe the blood from my nose and end up smearing it everywhere. It burns but the pain is a good. "I swear, its like you like getting the crap beat out of you." I shove my way back into the ring for another round. You have no idea, Link, you have no idea.

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A/N Hope you liked it! Please comment and vote! What do you think of Cato's secret stress reliever?