Sweet Decadence

Sweet Decadence

(A Hunger Games FanFic)

A/N: It’s Cato & Clove—the brutal hearts, the natural born killers of District 2, the ruthless killing machines—so expect mature themes, and maybe some gore. :)) I guess I just really wanted to capture the notion that was once mentioned in the book that they were perhaps only half-sane, especially Cato. I hope this isn't too awful.

And special thanks to tianajade for the wonderful cover. :) Thank you!

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You were mine to kill.

That's his first thought the second he sees the huge dark-skinned boy release her nearly lifeless body. Something runs through his veins, a strange kind of bloodlust that involves something more. An intense want of revenge. It consumes him, coursing through his blood and then gnawing at his very bones – though instead of running after the enemy, he rushes to her side.

He looked at her once dangerously enthralling face and gasped against his own will. How dare that boy ruin her?

He clutches her formerly clever and strong hands, desperately asking her to stay with him. They were supposed to be the last two tributes left. They were supposed to give the Capitol a good show. She was supposed to die beautifully in his arms. Panem  should be left speechless with her death, not like this. He was supposed to be the one to kill her.

Not that stupid District 11 boy.

She breathes in her last word, but all he saw was red. A red so blinding it pushed him to crossly stand and run after her killer. Red. Red.

Red.

He ran, furious. At Clove, for not being strong enough. At 11, for killing her off like that. At himself, for not being there when Clove needed saving.

He was the one who was to kill her after all. That was the plan. That was the plan all along.

And so he slays District 11 with all the art he can muster. He made sure that he’d crafted his face into something that will terribly amuse her—and District 2, their mentors, and all of the Capitol—and he blithely mists the surroundings of what was left of his prey’s blood because this would definitely make a good show. Cato’s insanely hysterical laugh echoed off the atmosphere as the hovercraft took the boy’s body from the scene. How’s that for a great show, Clove?

He returned to where Clove’s body used to be.

It is almost pitiful, the chance he'd been robbed of. He picks up the very rock her head got bashed with and closes his eyes. How dare he ruin her? She was his. She was his to break. She was only his to kill.

He was supposed to make her lips—the lips he used to kiss hard on those quiet moments in the Training Center— bleed with the tip of his favorite sword, but not touch any more of her face because it would be such a shame to ruin such beauty. He was supposed to break her delicate shoulders and calm her when she whispers his name through the pain.

It was supposed to be undoubtedly beautiful.

He wanted to kill her if she was the last thing he killed and as if she's the last thing he'd ever kill.

You were mine to kill.

Only mine to kill.

~*~

Generations before you might have kept the dusty documentations intact, of interviews and cut scenes from the history story we tell you. We just want you to watch as we and all of Panem did.