The Games We Play

The Choice

We were ruthless.

That was our angle, Spade said during week two. He said he wasn't going to give any chances of having us not be feared by fellow tribute and not be desired by the Capitol. "Those tributes should be trembling at the mere mention of your name." Spade told us while we rested. "The Capitol loves winners. You will be desired and you will have any help you can get in that arena." We didn't have to work on being merciless tributes, by scrunching both our faces, we can manage to look the kind who'll kill you with our bare hands.

There was something in us - the part which knew each other's deep secrets - which knew we weren't ruthless at all. I was in search of my own life and Cato was doing it for his love for his family. Our trust in each other, as we spent time training, grew stronger every day. We will survive till the end then we will fight until our last breath for the finals. It will be a battle of how stronger you want to get your dream.

Suddenly, I realized that I was aware of Cato. I never was interested about anyone before but him and his story - his life drew me in. He seemed much more human to me now than just someone I pass through the hallway of the Center. He was real. There was something about his realness which got me hooked and it was dangerous. His vulnerability was too tangible now, and his weakness seemed clearer. The old Clove would've easily found words to haunt Cato till we get to the Games but now, I couldn't bring myself to do it. He poured so much to me and I did the same to him.

It was as though we were bare naked in front of each other. There was no more pretenses, no more lies and no more falsities. I trusted Cato Byrnes. He trusted me. And even though we would never admit it, we crossed an unspoken line. We crossed the line separating allies to friends.

Friends... I liked the word but I know I shouldn't.

"Clove," Calla laid a hand on my shoulder. I wake up from my reverie and realized that I had been standing, staring, at my moving targets for a while now. My trainer took a knife from my table nearby and thrust it in my hands, "Train. Focus. You have less than two weeks. We won't take any chances."

I nodded awkwardly, the fear of the trainers finding out that I had gone soft was pounding in my head. I should be ruthless. Friendship ties should be severed right before the Games. Care is a dangerous thing to bring inside that arena, it can kill. The feeling of having one person you can trust, however, made me unable to tell myself to remove it from my system. I never thought I'd have a friend, much less thought it would be Cato. I wonder if he's thinking the same thing too.

Swiftly, I moved my body to hit targets. My knives hit marks with a loud thud. Just for practice, I placed an imaginary head on one of the dummies I haven't hit yet. Cato. I raised my knife arm, poised to strike and hesitated.

What the hell? I never hesitate. What difference did it make when he was the one I should injure or even kill?

I closed my eyes and threw my knife. When I opened them, I frowned. The knife was off the target, it hit the dummy's leg. It was not fatal. It couldn't kill. I let out a frustrated wail and ran my hands through my hair. I never miss and he is ruining everything.

"Wow." I heard someone give out a low whistle behind me, "Clove Holt misses bull's eye."

"Shut the fuck up, Cato. Move your arse away from here and dump it in your station." I snapped without looking at him.

There was silence and I thought he had already left but apparently, he was still there. "You have a problem?" No. I don't have a problem. I don't need you to listen to anything I say. I don't need you to understand. I don't need you to tell me about yours. I don't need myself to care. I don't need you, Cato Byrnes.