Bloody and Broken (Clato)

Chapter Nine

   Hey y'all!! So, I've come up with a GREAT IDEA for the ending of this book - well, it's not my idea, my friend came up with it. IT'S A TEAR-JERKER. HAHAHA. But don't worry, I probably still have like 10-15 more chapters to write!! Peace! xoxox, MusicxLove94

    Eventually, I get up and start walking down the street towards the Victor's Village, making my pace slow, and even. I'm definitely not eager to see that familiar, blonde fiend. A sudden wave of hatred courses through my veins. He's so bossy, controlling, and he blows up at every single thing.

    I should've killed him in the bloodbath. Yes, when he was focused on killing the boy from Four. That would have been a great time. Just then, I notice I have subconsciously quickened my pace and have almost run over a little girl.

   Mumbling an apology, I step around her and continue walking. Cato better be afraid when I get home. Very afraid. Stalking down the sidewalk, I make a sharp turn, stomp up the stairs to the house, jam my key into the lock, and shove the door open.

    Needless to say, I'm in a rage.

    Looking around for Cato, I quickly spot him in the living room sitting on the couch looking quite dejected. I frown, feeling slightly sympathetic towards him, but quickly shake it off and stomp right over to him. "We need to talk, " I declare, crossing my arms. Okay, that did not sound as menacing as I would have liked.

   He looks up at me and glares. "About?"

   He moves to stand up, but I quickly shove him back down and continue, "Look, we were teammates in the Games. How come we're not like that now? We have no communication whatsoever and it's driving me nuts. You think you can just boss me around. You're so immature, and irritating, and you remind me of a bug that needs to be squashed!"

    He looks at me and I'm pretty sure I see a flicker of amusement pass through his eyes. "And you remind me of a screaming banshee."

    "Freak."

    "Spoiled brat."

    I clench my fists. "You know what?" I hiss, "Let's just settle this right now. You and me, Prettyboy."

    "Whoa, no need to get ahead of yourself, Shorty, " Cato counters, "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

    I hate him. I really, truly hate him. Not thinking quite clearly, I march over to the kitchen and yank one of the butter knives off the table. He looks at me questioningly, but I don't bother giving him an explanation. Without another thought, I jam the knife into his hand.

    Cato takes the knife out and slams it down on a side table, then stands up. Being six feet and two inches tall, some people may say he's intimidating. But I don't think he's intimidating at all. Let him come and attack me. I have more knives waiting to break through skin.

    In one swift motion, he has me backed up against the wall with a rather ferocious glint in his eyes. I've seen that look before. It's the look he gets. When he's about to kill someone. Slowly, I move my hand down, reaching for the small knife hidden inside my pocket.

    Cato sees this and grips my wrist so tightly, I'm afraid he's going to break it. He leans towards me and whispers in a voice so harsh, it sends shivers down my spine, "Don't you ever do that again."

    "Don't get sassy with me just because your parents died, " I retort, but immediately know it was absolutely the wrong thing to say.

    Cato tears me away from the wall, and shoves me to the floor. Curse hardwood flooring...I think, then stand up and face my lovely future husband. Note my dripping sarcasm.

    "Watch your mouth, " He hisses.

    I look at him, just now noticing how extremely angry he looks. His face is so red I'm sure he's about to explode. His fists are clenched so tight that his knuckles are turning white. The way he's standing suggests that he's about to lunge at me, to end my life here and now. And a downright ugly scowl is plastered onto his face.

    I'm also pretty sure that I look pretty similar to what he does right now. Then it hits me. Why Cato and always fight. Why we always are at odds. It's because we are so similar. I'm like...him in girl form...

    I scrunch my nose in disgust, but Cato doesn't seem to notice. He just keeps standing there, glaring at me. "Well?" He demands.

    Tilting my head up slightly higher to appear more confident, I reply to him with the only response I can think of at the moment, "You watch yours, Jerkweed." With that, I step around him and go upstairs to my room.

    I lay on my bed, listening to Cato throwing a tantrum downstairs. I can hear him breaking, throwing, and mainly just destroying anything and everything. I can hear him shouting angrily. Then finally, it all stops.

    There's a feeling.

    In the pit of my stomach.

    I don't like it.

    It feels like guilt. Pity, perhaps? No...that's not it. But whatever it is, I don't like it. Eventually, I feel the slightest urge to go and apologize. Soon enough, the slight urge turns into a rapidly growing feeling, nagging me at the back of my mind, twisting my stomach into knots and has me opening my bedroom door and begrudgingly head downstairs where I notice Cato is once again sitting on the couch.

    All around him, the ground is littered with shattered vaces, broken plates, and tipped over coffee tables. "Where's the tornado?" I try, laughing slightly.

    Cato looks up at me with the most dejected expression on his face ever. "Sorry..." He mumbles.

    I almost fall over after hearing this. "Um, what?" I question.

    "Don't make me repeat myself, " He growls.

    A/N: KAAAY HERE'S CHAPTER NINE :D