TWO

Chapter Twenty-Five

When I was twelve, my dad took me to the training academy to pick out my first weapon. Since he was a spear thrower, that's where we went first, but my arms weren't long enough and I was too short to throw it more than two yards. So, instead, we went to my mothers weapon, the bow and arrow. Every time I pulled the string to release the arrow, it would snap against my forearm so hard I cried. That night we went home not knowing my weapon.

However, the same night, my mother was cooking dinner. As I reached for the knife she said, "Clove, those are not for kids. I'll cut, you stir."

The next day at the academy, I picked up a knife and threw it.

I never stopped throwing.

By the time I was fifteen, I has started training myself and became pretty skilled. My family was too poor to afford the expensive training after school, so the only time I ever trained was during school hours. Because of this, I would break into the academy late at night and train for hours. One night, I was caught.

"What do you think you're doing?" The Peacekeeper asked me, a gun pointed at my chest.

"Throwing knives, what else would I be doing?" I crossed my arms and smirked.

"You aren't allowed in here. It's locked. How did you-"

"What's going on?" a boy asked, walking up to us. I recognized him right away. Atticus, the winner of the 70th Hunger Games.

"This young girl broke into the academy. I caught her throwing knives." The Peacekeeper says, glaring at me.

"Broke into?" Atticus, chuckles, looking me up and down, "To throw knives?"

"It's my way of practice," I shrug.

Atticus watched me throw that night, coaching me on my techniques. Although his weapon was a mace, he was trained in all weapons to help the students. When I turned seventeen, I had a key to the academy thanks to him and was allowed to train freely, unless my grades slipped.

Raven moved to District Two from District Four that same year and over crowned me as the best in class. She was skilled in multiple weapons, but her hand to hand was not nearly as swift as mine. Regardless of her skill, Atticus focused his attention on me. When Raven volunteered for the 73rd games, she didn't come home, and I was number one again.

But right now, I'm staring at the number twelve. The grey eyes pierce into mine. Katniss is scared, so damn scared. She knows this is it, her final goodbyes are screaming in her head. She has nowhere to run and she will be my best kill.

With Cato in the woods, searching the area, I decide to give the audience a very special show. As Katniss squirms under my weight, I smirk, pressing the knife into her neck more. If she were to lash out, it would slash it easily.

"Where's your boyfriend, District Twelve? Still hanging on?" I ask, my voice is even scaring me. I've waited for this moment for so long.

"He's out there now. Hunting Cato," she snarls at me then screams at the top of her lungs. "Peeta!"

I jam my fist into her windpipe and look around cautiously, but I know that if Peeta were to be around, Cato would have killed him, "Liar." I grin, "He's nearly dead. Cato knows where he cut him. You've probably got him strapped up in some tree while you try to keep his heart going. What's in the pretty little backpack? That medicine for Lover Boy? Too bad he'll never get it."

As I open my jacket, Katniss's eyes widen a bit. I look around before grabbing a dainty, curved blade knife and look back down at her, "I promised Cato if he let me have you, I'd give the audience a good show."