The Games We Play

Free

I never imagined how I would die.

I had always imagined other people's deaths in my hands but I never thought of mine.

If I ever did, I think I would imagine dying in my sleep. Not this. Not in the hands of a tribute, who was everything I was not. A tribute who was not Cato.

I remember my nightmare before the Games and it was not a pool of blue which met my eyes but dark brown slits who were angry at the death of his District partner.

"Clove!" I heard Cato's voice but it sounded far away. I backed away, trying to give myself distance from Eleven but my back hit the Cornucopia wall. I was going nowhere. Eleven took hold of my jacket then I saw him lift the rock high...

There was pain.

There was a quick shot of pain, almost like lightning, and then I felt cold.

Eleven let me go. I felt my body fall on the grass. I could still hear voices so I was sure I was still alive. The voices I was hearing sounded familiar but I couldn't pinpoint who they are right now. I just feel like I have heard them before.

Should I recognize them? I asked myself.

I could hear feet leaving.

Was I alone?

Was I going to die alone?

But I had been alone most of my life. I had always been alone. Back when I was a child, I spent training alone under Calla's care. It was my mother's strict orders that I should not mingle with other children. I was alone everyday. I was even alone when they started calling me stuck-up. I had cried then. I cried all the way home. I thought I could find shelter in Magdalena's arms but I was still alone.

I was alone when she first cut me. I was alone when I consoled myself. I was alone and so I got used to it.

But there was another voice now. There were footsteps. There were movements. I was certain because even though I could not see properly, I could hear them all.

The voice was not threatening. It was not scared but broken. The voice sounded like the person was in pain.

Pain? I am not a stranger when it comes to pain. I welcome it because Magdalena trained me to be strong and brave. I withstood all the aching muscles, all the fresh wounds from knife handling, and I withstood the pain of being Magdalena's daughter.

"Clove, please." The voice spoke of my name. How was it able to know me? "Clove, no."

Cato?

I felt Cato's hands lift my body and his arms wrap around me. I couldn't see him properly. I was only able to get a gist of his yellow hair. If this is my end, I just want to see his eyes for the last time. I want to be able to see his eyes, the only pair of eyes who never judged me. I want to see his lips for the last time. I want to see those lips which melted mine. Those lips which released words that continue to torture my soul. I want to see his hair. I want to see his blond hair, which reminds me of his lovely family. Which reminds me of the home I craved to have.

If this is my end, I want to see Cato. I want to see Cato so bad. I want to see the guy who beat me in the Career Center. I want to see the guy who laughed at me for losing. I want to see the boy who tried to be allies with me and succeeded. I want to see the person, the first person, who made me feel like I was an actual human being. That I was capable of loving someone else.

I want to see Cato Byrnes.

"Stay with me. Don't let go." He begged. He begged me and I couldn't find the energy to answer. "Clove, we were coming home together. You promised we were coming home together."

I'm sorry, Cato.

His grip on my body tightened.

After a few seconds, I felt something wet on my shoulder. Was it raining?

No.

No, it wasn't raining.

Cato was crying. He was crying for me.

Don't cry for me Cato. I have hurt you badly. Don't cry for me. I am worthless. I am a killer. I am not worthy of your tears.

"I love you, Clove. Don't go. We have to win." This was not the vicious and burly Cato that the Capitol knew and admired. This was not the Cato that all the tributes were afraid of. This was vulnerable and human Cato.

Cato who loves me.

Cato whom I love back.

In the end, it was really him and me. It was not the end of the Hunger Games actually.

In my end, we were only two. Two.

In my end, there was only us.

Suddenly, I felt cold again. My vision blacked out.

My time is running out. I can't believe this is how it ends.

I have to tell Cato I love him back but I couldn't even manage to open my mouth properly. I tried. I tried and it took my all to be able to say something.

"I love..."

Then, the pain stopped.

Finally, I was free.