Secrets

Chapter Four

Cato knew it was her before he even saw her. The small grunt that he heard escape her lips as she shoved by some of the trainees. He was stationed by the small daggers and knives, an easy target for Clove. She was getting closer and the smirk on his face grew in anticipation as she grabbed a knife off the rack. Her eyes were so dark, so sadistic, so cruel. Her small hand wrapped around the handle of a blade, he looked down at her, the sharp metal against his cheek.

"You told." Clove growled at him.

Cato's eyebrows narrowed, he went to shove her hand away but the knife was pressed harder against his skin, "I had to."

"You had no right!" she barked, other hand balling into a fist.

No one dared get in her way. In fact, it was probably alarming to see such a small frame push a knife against Cato, who towered over her. She didn't seem the least bit intimidated by him, her nostrils fuming every time the corners of his mouth twitched in a small smirk. This had become personal for her.

Cato's voice was low as he spoke, cautious of the knife still stationed against his cheek, "You snuck into the academy and threw knives with tremendous accuracy, Clove. I can't just keep that a secret."

Clove's hand twitched, she lowered the knife and connected her fist to his nose. Cato stumbled back and gripped his nose tightly, his eyebrows pulled together in a harsh glare. The students around them observed the scene, too shocked to intervene. Before Cato could react, Clove knocked his feet out from under him. Her small body sprang into his and she jammed the knife against his throat. This time he could feel the prick against his neck. He knew if he were to falter, the blade would slice it open, due to it being freshly sharpened for training. She knew this too, noticing the way his eyes flashed with blatant fear.

"You're afraid," she almost purred. Cato didn't dare look away from her and he knew it only drove her crazier.

"You're too small to be afraid of," Cato dragged out slowly.

Clove forced her forearm into his windpipe and he gasped. Quickly, before the knife reconnected to his throat, he rolled her over so she was the one pinned to the floor. Cato gripped her wrists and pulled them above her head, he smirked down at the small girl as she squirmed under his touch, "Maybe you're the one that should be afraid."

"I'm not afraid of you," Clove said through gritted teeth. He could tell by the way her chest went up and down that he made her nervous, just like every girl in here. But he made her nervous in a different way, a more alarming way, a way he didn't see in other girls. In that brief moment of apprehension Clove head-butted him, loosening his grip on her wrist just enough to slice his cheek with the knife.

The blood that pooled from the wound made him shiver as he watched the black-haired girl sit up. Her piercing green eyes smiled at him while she watched the blood drip down his cheek. She knew what she had done, and she loved it. This sent Cato into a frenzy, but Clove was too clever; too agile. Wrapping her small legs around his waist and burrowing her elbow into his throat. She bucked her hips and pinned him back down, but before her fist could connect with his chizzled structure, she was lifted off him.

"Get off me," she hissed at the trainer who stepped back rapidly.

The blood on his cheek kept dripping, he wiped it carelessly as he stood in front of her. Her nose flared again when he let out a deep chuckle, "You shouldn't have done that."

"Well I did," Clove glanced down at her knife.

Cato studied her features carefully. The small curve of her lip when she smirked. All the hairs that stood out on her forehead were frazzled, her green eyes still dark but never leaving his blue ones. Then her freckles, scattered across her face like someone had dumped them out of a jar without looking. She still didn't show an ounce of fear. Until that moment, he hadn't been sure he would prevail from this fight. Any woman brave enough to thrust a knife at him was unpredictable at best and dangerous at worst. Clove had been the only person ever to knock him down, and she wasn't even a student.

The trainer cut in, pulling Cato out of his trance and grabbing the knife from Clove. Clove then slowly directed her attention back to the flustered looking blonde, "Next time it'll go into your skull."

Her words made his stomach twist, but not out fear. He wasn't sure what it was, but he wanted her to say it again. He wanted her to act like she could actually do more harm than she had done. Her loose black locks turned with her head sharply as she stormed out of the academy. The mummers echoing across the gym didn't make him feel weak, in fact he laughed. It was a malicious deep laugh and it sent chills up some peoples spines. A trainer approached him slowly to hand him a towel. At first, he had forgotten about the cut until then. Not really noticing the small wincing sting until he pressed the black towel against the wound and nodded at the trainer. Once he heard the academy doors shut, he dropped the towel and headed towards the swords.

--

That night, Cato waited until midnight for Clove to climb through the window in the locker room, but she never showed, so he packed up his gym bag and ventured home. Inside the white-bricked house, he trucked up the wooden stairs and entered his large room. Clothes scattered across the floor, previous victors posters hanging on by the meager amount of tape he had left in his house (he was not allowed to put holes in the walls), and the static from his alarm clock filling the rest of the room with an eerie tone.

He peeled his shirt off slowly, glancing at the dried blood stained on the material. As he headed towards the bathroom, he ran a light finger across the crusted blood on his left cheek. He winced a bit as he pressed down harder. Feeling the wound re-open, immediately regretting his prying. The shower had turned warm quickly and he stripped down to slowly enter the water.

"Fuck," he hissed as the warm water hit his wound. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, then he peered down at the drain while the blood disappeared down the hole. For sure, the wound would scar. Yet, he didn't seem to mind, even though it was inflicted by an irritated frail girl with too much confidence. It was his fault though, he knew what he was doing was going to cause emotions to stir inside of her. He just didn't know she would react in such a violent way.

Taking a slow staggered breath, he clenched his jaw together. Cato decided then, that tomorrow he would get her back. In school when they go to the gym, when she least expected it, he would make her feel as powerless as she made him feel. A slew of hatred flooded through him and he punched the shower wall in front of him, splitting the skin on his knuckle open.

This only angered him more. Why was he letting her have so much control over him? Was it because she didn't care that the blood swam across his cheek? Was it because of the small curve of her lips when his eyes flashed with a small amount of fear? Or maybe it was because she wasn't afraid of the fight, she wanted to fight, but he hadn't engaged with Clove well enough for her to show her true potential.

For a girl of her height and weight, it surprised Cato to see her so quick on her feet. Especially since she had never trained in the academy. What else could she do? Were knives the only weapon she knew how to handle? Even if they were, he saw her precision with the dull-bladed knife. Imagine what she could do with a new deadly knife, one whose handle doesn't slip around when she threw. The image made his skin crawl, and for the first time, he felt scared. Scared because she wasn't afraid of him, she was angry. A threat.

Cato shut the water off and ran a hand through his soaked hair, slicking it all the way back. He ripped a towel off the rack and headed into his room again, sliding on the first pair of sweatpants he saw on the floor. His body flopped onto his bed and he pulled the pillow closer to his head, making sure to rest on his right side so he doesn't irritate his wounded cheek. Before he could close his eyes, the door knocked and he sat up, "Yeah?"

The woman walked in and smiled at her son, "Just making sure it was actually you I heard come home."

"It was me." he glanced at her, the light in the hallway shining against his face. Cato's mother's lips pursed and he knew she saw.

"Your cheek-"

"Just an accident with a sword today, Ma."

She nodded slowly with concern in her voice, "We can bandage it up in the morning."

"Alright, night."

"Goodnight, love."

The door closed and Cato laid back down, letting out a loud sigh. When he closed his eyes, he saw hers staring into him. This time she laughed, a loud high pitched laugh that made his ears ring. Then she walks up to him placing a hand on his cheek and says, "Next time it'll go into your skull."