Clato: Twisted

Chapter 3 - Hidden Emotions

 It had been 8 years since Clove's initiation into the all-boys training program. By now, she was 13 years old and was participating alongside with other girls and boys her age. For the past 8 years, she had been able to keep up with the boys in her progress, although probably not as successful as her proud father would have liked. Nevertheless, it was crucial that Clove was still at least in the program.

The blonde boy who had snickered at her last year was not someone Clove could easily forget. He constantly harassed her at every possible opportunity and made it a point that he was obviously better than other boys his age. He excelled in everything, particularly in combat with the sword and spear. He was stronger than others, more skilled. It was hard not to despise him.

Clove probably would have been more focused during training if the boy had not taunted her so frequently. Although now that she thought more about it, it was probably not true. His constant leering was most likely the only thing that kept Clove persistent throughout her training. The boy was odd; although he was the best and had many friends, he never seemed to enjoy being in the spotlight.

When training was over and all the children walked back home, Clove would often find herself back in the training room to practice more. It was then that she would see the boy training by himself and oddly, it was then that he performed the best. Of course, he would never noticed the small girl in the opposite corner of the room. She chose the dark corner where the broken and beaten equipment were kept. She didn't want anything to do with this boy.

After about an hour or so, she would see the boy pack up and leave. It was only her left in the room. This was the time where she was fragile, when she easily broke down. Miss after miss with the weapon target broke her down until she found herself curled up behind a large box of knives, sobbing silently. She did not want to be in the academy. Bel had been promoted and been chosen last year. Clove rarely saw her these days, for Bel trained at least 8 hours a day. Once she was chosen, her future was set. Her name would be in the reaping bowl more times than others. If she wasn't chosen naturally, she would volunteer herself into the Games that had taken the lives of a few of her siblings...

One day, after training, the boy went into the dark corner Clove usually occupied before she got there. She didn't know he was there and went to curl up behind the knife box. As she began to let her mind wander, she felt her eyes fill with moisture. There was a shuffle from a few feet away and Clove snapped her head up to see the boy standing in front of her. She hastily got up and wiped her nose absentmindedly.

"You know, you've got to stop breaking down" the boy said while casually twirling a sword.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Clove retorted, giving him the meanest look she could manage and crossing her arms across her chest.

"You see, that's a defensive gesture" he pointed to her crossed arms. "Tomorrow is Selection Day, as you've probably realized..." Clove's mind wandered and zoned out the rest of the boy's sentence. Right. Selection Day. I totally knew it was tomorrow. Clove had been too busy working hard to try and not make a fool of herself everyday that she had forgotten about the big day.

Selection Day was the day where five boys and five girls were chosen to be potential Hunger Games volunteers. Of course, the volunteers are chosen and are typically 18 when they go into the Games, but by having Selection Day at least 5 years before that, they would have plenty of time to train and learn about various tactics.

A loud crash brought her back to reality. Clove looked behind her and saw the box of knives fall onto the floor, spilling the different shaped knives. Her mind was reeling with the thought of the Hunger Games and she didn't realize that she had accidentally knocked the box over as she stepped back, away from the terrors the boy was describing.

"... I'm warning you. It would be such a shame if I let that little part about your breakdown out" He sneered at the last words and walked away.

Clove let out a frustrated scream, picked up one of the knives, and threw it at a target dummy 10 feet away. It landed with a satisfying thud in the bullseye. However, Clove was too distracted to realize and stalked away to scavenge more knives to release all the anguish that had been building steadily inside.