the girl who played with knives || clato ✔️

3

Cato

I have one more visitor, though she's completely unexpected. It's Clove's oldest cousin; Kimber.

"Hey," She says. I can see tears in her eyes and suspect she's just been to see Clove.

"Hey," I stand and walk over to meet her. She takes my hands in hers and I pull back, feeling guilty for some reason. I've severely wrecked this situation.

"Calm down. I know you like Clove. Just... I need to tell you-ask you something."

"Okay..." I let her take my hands again, as this seems to be important to her.

"Cato," Kimber's voice has dropped to a whisper. "Bring her home. Please."

"You're asking me to die," I attempt to say lightly, but to be honest there's fear hidden behind my jesting.

She looks down and drops my hands. "Sorry."

"No worries... I was already planning on it."

That's when she throws her arms around me, and this time I don't pull back. It takes only a few minutes for the peacekeeper to come in and separate us.

"No, wait!" Kimber yells, but the peacekeeper is growing impatient. As she is being dragged out the door she throws something small and metallic at me, and shouts one last thing before she's gone; "Bring her back, Cato! Plea-" The door slams between us.

I just stand there for a few minutes before I remember the small, metallic object. Kimber missed by several inches when she threw it at me, so it's flown somewhere near the couch. I get on my hands and knees and peer under it. I see the object and have just grabbed it when a peacekeeper comes in to transport me to the train station. I stuff the object in my pocket and follow him out into the hall, out the back door of the Justice Building, and into a small black car. I've been in cars a couple times before, but none were as nice as this one.

It's a pretty short ride, and soon we are at the station. There are people everywhere, most of them loaded down with huge cameras and thick notepads. They are all swarmed around me and Clove, who has just gotten out of a car adjacent to mine, peppering us with questions. I ignore them, and notice Clove is doing the same. It's only an expanse of a few yards from the doors to the train, but with the crowd it takes several minutes. Peacekeepers try to keep the reporters and Hunger Games addicts away from us, but it hardly makes a difference. They are too eager to learn as much as they can about us before our initial slaughter. So thrilled to make us die for their entertainment.

Well you'll get that with me. But not Clove, I think, but I am still disgusted by their excitement.

Clove and I are instructed to stand in the doorway of the train for a while so the camera crews can get a good shot, then we're showed inside. The train starts to move almost immediately, so fast I am nearly knocked over. Once I've adjusted, I take a peek at Clove. She is smoldering. The Maggot shows us to our rooms, which I am grateful for. I'm not quite ready to face Clove yet.

The train is extremely fancy, with shining oak floors and lush carpets. The bed in my chamber is huge, it could fit my whole family comfortably... Not that we'd really be comfortable, if my father was around. I move on to the bathroom, which is the size of my bedroom back home.

I already feel so far away from there, which is probably actually accurate. At this rate, with the train averaging 250 miles per hour, we'll be in the Capitol before nightfall.

So long District 2, and happy Hunger Games.

Clove

Once I'm in my room, I fling my shoes off and rip the flowers from my hair, tossing them around on the floor. They remind me too much of Cato, and I cannot think of him right now. If I do, I will likely cry forever. I'm already crying though, I see myself in the bathroom mirror as I make my way into the room: eyes red and puffy, cheeks slick with tears. I tell myself it's ok; this is the time to cry, when there are no cameras, no insane Capitol people, no mentors, and no Cato to see me like this.