Bloody and Broken (Clato)

Chapter Eight

    "Oh, is it?" I irritably question, "I'll have you know, you're not in any position to be teasing me, Blondie."

    Cato lets out a loud laugh. "Like I'm scared of a girl who's three feet tall."

    I groan and make my way towards the staircase, eager to get away from the blonde boy who is currently annoying the fudge out of me. After I get upstairs, I immediately head into the bathroom to take a shower.

    I close my eyes and let the warm water pour over me, purely enjoying my time away from Cato. He's bipolar, I swear. One minute he's slapping me, the next he's acting all chummy, trying to annoy me and whatnot. A small frown makes its way onto my face. What's he trying to play at? He obviously wants something if he's being a little nicer.

    A few minutes later, I step out of the shower, dry off and wrap a towel around myself. After opening the door, I head across the hall to the room I've claimed as my own and go and change into some comfortable clothing.

    Not even a few seconds later, Cato comes barging into my room, chomping down on an apple. "Don't you knock?" I sneer.

    He rolls his blue eyes. "Didn't think I'd need to, Honey."

    "Don't call me that, " I hiss, pursing my lips and crossing my arms.

    Out of the corner of my eye, I notice someone duck behind a bush outside the window. I walk over to the window and look down. No one's there. "Did you see that?" I ask, turning to Cato. He only shakes his head and gives me a look.

    "Someone was taking pictures of us, " I declare.

    "Well in that case..." Cato murmurs, stepping towards me then pressing his lips against mine.

    I immediately want to shove him away and puke. Then I remember that we're being watched and are in a life-or-death situation. I kiss him back then begin to pull away. Okay, show's over. Cato, too, pulls away and looks like he wants to burn his mouth off.

    "Cato, let's go walk around the district, " I suggest, hoping to catch whoever is watching us. They may just be a reporter, but I seriously want to know what idiot thinks they can spy on us in our own private home.

    He pouts. "I don't want to, we basically just got here."

    "But..." I stammer, trying to think of an excuse, "I want to apologize to your parents."

    "Oh, " He replies, nodding approvingly, "Okay, let's go."

    I grab my jacket then we head out the door, occasionally getting stopped by people congratulating us, and other times, getting reprimanded for getting married at an age so young. It takes us at least thirty minutes to get to his parents' house, when really, it should've only taken us ten.

    My stomach is in knots. Not because I'm nervous - but because my indignation towards his parents is coming back. Cato knocks on the front door then steps back and we wait for his parents to answer.

    When they don't answer, Cato bends down and takes a spare key from under the mat. He unlocks the door and goes inside. I follow him, but stop in my tracks. His parents are lying on the floor. Dead. Blood pools around them, multiple wounds are visible on their bodies. The whole thing is quite graphic - more than anything I've seen, and I can't help but feel kind of sick.

    Then I turn to Cato, his face is a mixture of sadness, confusion, and anger. Mostly anger, though. I place my hand awkwardly on his shoulder, as an attempt to comfort him. "I'm really sorry, Cato..." I mutter.

    Cato shrugs my hand off his shoulder. "This is all your fault, " He growls.

    I blink, taken aback. "My fault? What are you talking about?"

    "President Snow probably had them killed...because our performance isn't good enough. And it's all your fault, " his voice rises, "because I've been trying to make this work! You're the one who doesn't cooperate! You're the one who makes everything hard!

    "I should've killed you!" He finishes, clenching his fists.

    I mentally want to rearrange his face with my knife, but then catch myself. He's probably just letting off some steam. But I guess this could be a good thing for him. It'll make him see what it feels like to lose someone you love.

    "Fine, I'm sorry, " I hiss then leave him to mourn.

    Immediately, I walk towards my old house again. I could really use some alone time, and so could Cato, I'm sure. Besides, we don't need to be killing each other after we've gotten engaged. Thinking about this, I'm reminded that my dress fitting is in a few days.

    Why me? Honestly, I'm beginning to wish Cato had killed me. It would make things so much easier.

    I reach the front of my old house and frown. It looks so rundown and unappealing. The shutters hang limp and crooked, the windows are tinted with some kind of gunk...but it's still home, all the same. It feels like I haven't been here in years.

    I walk up the front steps and slowly open the door. When I go inside, everything is the same. And I like it. It brings back lots of bittersweet memories, though. Taking careful steps, I make my way towards my old bedroom and run my hand across the comforter.

    Then, I reach under my bed and pull out a big bin. Popping the top off, I dump the contents of the bin onto the floor. All of my favorite knives spill out and I look at them, remembering what exactly I killed with them, when I trained with them, and where I got them.

    I pick up my absolute favorite knife; a curved, nine inch knife, with a compartment in the handle for a small bottle of poison. I've never used the poison - but it's there if I need it.

    Eventually, I put all the knives back in their places and stuff the bin under my bed again. I like it here. Better than my new house, actually. There's no one to tell me what to do, no one to yell at me...but I know I'll have to go back to Cato soon.

    A/N Okay here's chapter eight! c: