The second they called your name, I realized my mistake.
In that very second I saw all those little moments, you know, those of us. You and me behind the training center, in the woods, by that small pound. Those moments where we kissed, fought, fucked or argued. Every single moment with you mattered, little girl.
How was I supposed to know they would call your name? It wasn’t your year. It was mine. Your name should never have been called. If I’d known, I would never have volunteered.
You were brave though. My smirking, brave little girl, never showing any emotion. The only thing you held when you walked up to the stage was arrogance. You raised your eyebrows to me, as if to say, “What are we going to do?”
Neither of us seemed to have the answer. But oh, I tried. I tried so hard to think of a way out. But I didn’t see one. We were already doomed; our fate sealed; our hope destroyed. It was the end, and we both knew it.
On the train you had refused to speak to me, but I remember that look you gave me. It was like we both silently agreed that from now we were tributes, and those kisses, and those hours spent in my bed never happened. Like those times I made you laugh never existed. And trust me, I’ll always remember those. I was the only one who could make you smile.
You refused to speak to me the rest of the train ride, you didn’t even look. It angered me, and I wanted to grab you and demand you to speak to me, to look at me, to kiss me. But I couldn’t. We were raised for this; murdering, killing, this beautiful evil. We were born to kill, fed blood to ensure our blood-lust. We weren’t supposed to feel anything. Ever. Then why did you make me fall so hard?
It was like I didn’t even exist to you anymore. It felt like you had lodged one of your knives into my chest and kept twisting it around. It felt hollow, weird, and strangely painful. I wasn’t supposed to feel this, and it made me so damn angry you had this power over me. But I let you keep twisting, because I knew we couldn’t be together.
When twelve announced he was in love with that bitch on fire, it was all I could do not to lose it. Why hadn’t I thought of that? We could have gotten all the applause, little girl. We could have gotten all the sponsors, and I would still be able to kiss you, and touch you, and be with you. I could have said I loved you, and we could have been together, fully, completely, until the end. But then I remembered who we are; murderers, uncaring callous killers who weren’t supposed to have hearts, and to whom love was just a pitiful myth.
You had met my seeking gaze then, and I could see you were thinking the same. But it didn’t matter. Because all we had were those memories of you and me and the bed, and those rare times of happiness. The future was dark, so I clung to the past.
I realized something very important that last night before we went into the arena. You had come into my room, and crept into my bed. You had looked so small, so vulnerable, and it had scared me, because you, little girl, were always so cold and collected. You looked scared; brokenhearted. Like I had taken my sword and twisted it around in your chest, like you had with your knives in mine.
No words had escaped your lips, and instead of speaking you simply kissed me. That was a night like no other, like all those good memories experienced all at once. You had given me that look, like you didn’t want this night to ever end. And I knew I didn’t want it to either. How amazing wouldn’t it have been if we could have been in that bed forever, little girl? Just you and me and eternity?
“We both knew this could never last,” you had said to me as your head rested on my chest. “Right?” It was liked you asked for confirmation, as if we were just a fling, just using each other to get laid, and that we would have split up eventually anyway even if it hadn’t been for the games. It was like you thought it would have been much easier to let go then, like it wouldn’t hurt so much if we weren’t meant to be.
I didn’t answer you, just brought your lips up to mine and kissed you. I had wanted to tell you I loved you, because that was what I had realized. It hurt so fucking much because I was in love with you. But I know it would have hurt even more if I had known you loved me back.
.
I heard you scream. You screamed my name, and not in that way I liked that was of pleasure, or that way when you were mad. You screamed like you were afraid, and that was why I ran. I ran the fastest I have ever ran in my entire life, but I still wasn’t fast enough. It felt like you stabbed me in the heart again when I saw you fall to the ground like a broken doll. Oh, God, little girl, we were supposed to win! We were supposed to win. You couldn’t die. Not now, not ever. Oh, and I loved you. I loved you…
I couldn’t breathe when I knelt beside your battered, almost lifeless body. Fuck, I remember the tears. I cried for you, I begged you to stay. But you wouldn’t. I loved you, little girl. How dared you leave me?
I had held you, chanted your name countless of times like that would bring you back to life, to me. “I love you,” I had told you. “God, Clove, I love you.” And then you had made me smile even though it seemed like that was something I never would do again.
“You’re getting soft,” you told me in a broken voice which was only a ghost of your usual arrogance, and I remember smiling through the tears. You had smiled too, and it made it all so much more painful. “I love you too, Cato.”
And I was right. Hearing you tell me you loved me too made it so much harder losing you. It was like I was ripped in half, and lost the best part. Oh, shit, it hurt so fucking bad.
I’m happy I died, little girl. Because spending a second more without you would have killed me anyway. I loved you, I loved you, I loved you.. Oh, how I loved you.
I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough. I’m sorry I volunteered to begin with.
Nothing means anything without you, Clove, my little girl.
