Careers Have Feelings Too | CLATO | GLARVEL |

Chapter 33

PLEASE READ THIS IS IMPORTANT YOU LITTLE WILLIES: There is some self harm and suicidal thoughts in this chapter. If it affects you in any way at all and you dont want to read about it, I'm so sorry, but just skip down to the end of this and I'll put a quick summary of it for you so you don't miss out :) I love you all!! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

ENJOY OMG

(It's rated PG-13 for a reason)

(CLOVE POV)

"Bring him back," I snarl, pressing the glass into my stylist. It whimpers frantically, followed by a dreadful choking sound. "You could do it, right?" i ask, holding my freak away from the guard's reach. "Surely you must have something here that could bring him back?" I snap, drawing the glass a little more over the stylist's neck. It's tears drop on my hand, staining the bloody glass. "You know full well I can and will kill her if you don't," I shrug.

The guards are staring at me in disbelief, but I know they understand what I want. 

Because I can't survive on my own, not without Cato, not without Glimmer and Marvel. I just don't see the point of being so broken without repair, when these freaks could bring him back, somehow. I can feel tears growing in my eyes, but I strain my muscles, hoping and praying I wouldn't cry. I don't want to turn into the teardrop dress that they have forced me into. "Well?" I shout. "Get to it!"

They stand there, dumbstruck as I push the glass into my stylist's throat. It grips my arm tightly, begging for me to let it go, but I ignore it's desperate whines and pay attention to the guards. "I need him," I say, the tears really threatening to fall now. "Just bring him back to me, please," 

I press the glass into the freak's throat. They know I'll kill her. They must know. What's one pierced, dyed Capitol freak over all those innocent children I killed? Besides, I don't see the point without Cato. I can't go home and face my sister and all those fans who will praise me for killing their families. I feel so dead inside that it might as well be true. 

"Clove, she didn't do anything-" one of the guards say, taking a step forwards, but I drag the freak backwards and cut him off. 

"Neither did they!" I shout, my voice cracking and a single tear finally showing them I am what they put me in. Just another Capitol toy to play with until it gets bored. "Neither did Cato, and Glimmer and Marvel, neither did Katniss, what exactly did any of them do to deserve this?" I yell desperately. I feel like there's a crack spider-webbing across my chest, about to open into emptiness. I shouldn't be the one alive. It should be Cato, it shouldn't be me. I didn't deserve to be the victor.

"Clove, we can't bring Cato back," one of the guards mutter. "We're very sorry, but we wouldn't wreck President Snow's plans over a stylist," he finishes. 

My palms sweating frantically, I release the pressure of the glass on it's neck. The thing gasps thankfully, but I'm not going to let go. My head is throbbing. I can hardly think straight about any of this. Cato is gone. 

Cato is gone. Gone. 

Cato is really, really dead. 

"Fine," I growl, and I slash. 

Blood spurts over my dress and hands, accompanied by a scream of pain and an awful choking noise from the stylist as she collapses over the molten gold of my skirts. The guards take a step back in shock as I wipe my mouth, unsure if I should be as happy as I am to see that thing dead on the floor. It serves them right, all of them. I'm shattered like the mirror, and now they are the ones to blame. 

I know what I do next, as well. Slowly, I raise the red-stained glass up to my arm, my eyes dry and cold. I don't even care. There's nothing left to care about. Pressing the glass against my bare skin, I turn my eyes back to the guards.