They Call Me a Career-a Clove fanfic

off to the Capitol

I get onto the train with a heavy heart. I am going to miss my father while I am gone. I know I will be back before anyone knows it, but it could be a couple weeks at the least. 

I am forced onto the train, and the first thing I see is plush. Bright and plush. All of the furniture is big and bright and the food looks marvelous. I could eat every piece. Yes, we may be from District Two, but even we don't eat as well as the Capitol. We're definately not as deprived as Twelve. They just ultimately suck. I try not to focus on that as Evadne leads us through the cabins telling us which ones are our's and where to go for certain things like eating, the restroom, showering. We get the whole grand tour. 

"Clove, here is your cabin." Evadne says. She opens a door to a room that is full of furs and prints of all different sorts. I am in awe, but all of this is a bit too luxe for me. I prefer to rough it, honestly. I open the closet, and see a bunch of useless clothes, and a few reasonable pieces. "Anything else you need?" She asks me in a sarcastic tone, as if telling me I am a needy person. 

I glare at her. "I need you to buzz off." I say.

Cato, who is still waiting to be shown his room, stifles a small laugh behinde Evadne. 

"Nice of you to think it's funny, but I want you the hell out of here, too." I say to Cato. 

His face goes blank and he walks out of the doorway, followed by Evadne. I sometimes am not a pleasant person. I try to be, but sometimes the alpha in me just slips out. I feel the need to be above all. Such a shocker?

I chill in my room for a little while, looking out the window as even the mountains that are far away vanish from sight within seconds. I try to imagine a world without the Hunger Games. I find it a little impossible. How would everyone be ranked? By the value of their land, the duty of the Nation? I don't think so. District One would be a hell hole.

I then get up and change out of the nasty, sweaty dress. I am a girl, but I still sweat. I pull it off in one easy motion, and feel the knife in the band around my thigh jab into my thigh. I cry out, and when I look down, I see that I drew blood, and a massive amount. I rip the band off quickly and pull the tip of the knife out of the inside of my thigh. 

Apparently the commotion drew attention to my fellow tribute, because he comes rushing in the door. He is about to walk into the room when he recoils, his cheeks turning a bright pink. I wonder why, until I look down at myself. I am only dressed in my undergarments. I now feel the heat of the blood rushing to my cheeks.

"Get out, I don't need your help!" I yell through the humiliation. 

"Obviously you do," he yells, inching towards me, "What in the hell were you doing?"

"Do you really want me to go into details?" I yell, pinching the wound closed. There's pain. 

He runs over to me after a moment's hesitation, and he examines the wound. Also humiliating, assuming my wound is on my high inner thigh.

He thinks a moment, then I swear a lightbulb appears over his head. "I know a trick."

He rushes over to my closet and pulls out a couple dresses. "Which one do you not like?" He asks me.

I am appauled. "How on earth can you be asking me that question right now? Can't you see that I am in a kind of bad situation here-"

"Just answer the question!" he yells at me forcefully.

"The pink one." I mutter, completely oblivious to what he's doing.

"Good enough." He says, then uses his teeth to rip off the hem. The dress gives easily, and the result is a long, thin piece of pink material. He then rushes over to me and ties the piece of my thigh continually until he has to tie the knot. he puts the knot over the cut and then goes to leave the room.