DYSTOPIA

0.04

The following morning Clove couldn't help but solemnly stare up at the ceiling, what has my life become? She thought.

One minute in the arena, the next in District 13?

District 13–

She signed for what felt like the hundredth time that morning alone, she still couldn't believe it. Had they even taken a second to inform the family or friend's of the tributes they had sprung?—

Not that I have many of either. She thought with a shrug.

Which one friends or family?

"Both." She mumbled under her breath, as she briefly allowed herself to reminisce on her life in District 2. Not that there were many pleasant memories to reminisce on—

Cassiopeia Kentwell, the only person Clove could whole-heartedly say she loved.

Clove had grown up constantly hearing that she beautiful, and that she took her beauty from her mother. Clove didn't know for sure considering her mother had passed away when she was only two years old, but the one memory of her mother she did have, she was distinctly beautiful. Big round green eyes like hers, defined nose with hundreds of little freckles covering it, soft auburn hair.

There was no one Clove missed more than her mother.

At least things were tolerable while she was still here. Unfortunately for Clove after her mom's unfortunate passing, she was left with her alcoholic of a father. To say he didn't handle Cassia's death very well was an understatement, Theseus Kentwell not only turned to alcohol as a coping mechanism but in the process began neglecting his two children; Clove Kentwell and her younger sister Cressida Kentwell. Part of the reason Clove had been working tirelessly all her life was so one day she'd win the title of Victor and be able to take Cressida out of their dysfunctional home and away from Theseus.

But no. Instead, she was kidnapped, held captive and then forced to become apart of her captor's rebellion.

She hoped and prayed everyday Cressida was safe, she hoped and prayed Cressida wasn't going through too much worrying about her whereabouts as well as her safety. Cressida had been through more than the average fourteen-year- old should have to.

The only other individual who Clove felt any emotion towards was her one, and only friend, Adara Yates. Adara is a greek name that meant: beautiful. And did her parents hit the nail on the head. Adara was beautiful, she wasn't classically beautiful, but had possessed a rare type of beauty that you didn't find everyday. Adara, much like Clove was a no-nonsense person, she never tolerated any type of disrespect and would tell it how it is— Which is why Clove respected her so much. However, unlike Clove, Adara had many more friends and was much more liked than Clove was.

Clove often referred to herself as the black swan, and Adara as the white.

That by no means meant that Clove felt indifferent towards her best friend, she was perfectly happy to let Adara be in the spotlight, as long as at the end of the day Clove would get her best friend back.

All she could do was pray that, both Cressida and Adara were coping to the best of their abilities.

After spending longer than intended reminiscing on home, Clove decided it was high time she got up and got on with her day.

•

Clove's eyes remained fixated on the tray of food in her hands, she figured the less she looked around, the less likely somebody would acknowledge her and try to talk her.
There was only one single destination Clove's mind and that was the vacant table in the back corner. She typically sat there during breakfast, lunch and dinner in order keep to herself and to engage in as little conversation as necessary. Clove sat down, and proceeded with her daily ritual of poking at the food on her tray. She would eventually eat a couple bites, but would naturally play around with the food first, something which her old District escort Ophelia always discouraged.
Clove could just hear her voice already...