Melting Ice

Chapter 34

Clove

"Smile Clove!", calls the director. I give a wide happy smile and pretend to laugh. "Perfect!". If I'm being honest, I love what I'm wearing right now: a Cotten grey dress at isn't too revealing but isn't granny like at all and a black handbag that contrasts really well. I lean up against the pretend wall and look across the room to where all the food is, the food my stomach grumbles for. One man walks past, picking up a cookie, the cookie I wanted. Forgetting I'm on camera, I glare straight ahead at him, then to the camera.
"So fierce! I love it". What?
"Take five everyone".
I'm surrounded by people who wipe my face, give me water then drag me off to a room where they continue adjusting whatever they want to adjust.
"What are you doing?", I blurt out when I can breath again.
"Taking of your make up sweetie so we can re-apply it". What is the point in that? Anyway, they slap some red stuff on my face then slip me into just under garments.
"I wasn't told I would be wearing this...", I mumble looking in the mirror.
"Your a model darling, you must do different things", one says, "Come along now".
The process is repeated: pose, smile, glance, change and repeat. And by lunch my stomach is grumbling as if it's crying.
"I need food", I say once I'm draped in a gown and socks, "I will be back soon".
More cookies are laid out on silver trays with paper plates and napkins either side. Carelessly, I pick up a plate and chuck a cookie, an apple and a bottle of some weird protein shake, I'm forced to take, on my plate before striding back to my dressing room. The soft velvet of the couch in my right corner comforts me as I sink in. I turn the tv on, the news comes on.
"Sun, with some clouds-", says the presenter. How boring! Just before I turn over channels, something catches my eye, "Kayla Kentwell, sister of the Capitols sweetheart Clove Kentwell has been seen chucking masses off food away then using the bathroom frequently. Could this be a teenage pregnancy? Things seem to have heated up between her and Xander these past months. Or could it be something more dangerous, the media has been looking further into this suggesting bulimia and, or anorexia. More information on this shocking story later". I swear my heart stops for a millisecond. Kayla pregnant? No, she wouldn't do that, she has sense unlike me. Anorexic? Kayla has never mentioned being unhappy with herself or her weight. Sure she isn't super skinny but she is average and probably weighs more due to muscle. Hopefully mother saw this and will take those darn scales away, they lie. Society says skinnier is better, at least that's what I grew up to know. No one cares unless your skinny, or dead.
Afternoon shoot was called off, giving me extra time to myself. Without much care, I sling my robe off and slip into plain black leather leggings and my training top and hoodie. As I tie the laces to my boots, I realise that life is just a big blob of knots and ties, waiting to be unravelled into something perhaps simple, perhaps beautiful thing. Like the bow on my boot that was once an array of knots. I walk up against the racks of knives, only picking up the sharpest seven. For each one, I hold it to my wrist and press, making a small cut in my flesh. It stings like hell but then releases something nice, it makes me feel okay.
Noise comes from the doorway later, interrupting me. Quickly, I wipe my arms and pull the jacket over the cuts. The group of children and teenagers depart to there stations to meet their trainers. Mine come over smiling and laughing, one of them is Kayla. They all lean against the closest wall, waiting for my instructions.
"Usual warm up", I say dismisses them with my hand. Kayla runs ahead of the group then bursts into sprinting from one wall to the next while the others stretch themselves.
My stomach churns at the thought of what I have been eating lately as I turn on my heel away from them and over to my phone. Phones are another thing the Capitol brought back lately; we can now contact friends easily, which is great.

Me: I feel sick😷

I texted Cato leaning up against the world. It beeps.

Cato: I'm done over here, want me to come get you? x

I rack my brain of ideas of what to do, occasionally glancing at my energetic bunch who are to caught up in some drill to notice me.

Me: 10 mins? x

The reply comes almost instantly.

Cato: anything for my beautiful Clovers xxxxxxxx

I smile and turn off my phone, waiting for the click noise to show it's locked, before lightly jogging over to them.
"Cato is gonna come in and help me, is that okay?", I ask them, never taking my eyes off of a pale looking Kayla. A few murmurs and nods answer my question but I still look at Kayla. She clearly thinks of it as a game, the way the raises her eyebrows playfully. Mine stay the same. Concerned, worried.
"Throw some punches for a while", I tell her hugging my own body until Cato can do that for me.
When his arms replace mine, I spill everything.
"It's probably just the media acting up baby", he whispers in my ear gently so we sway.
"We need a vacation", I mumble then drag him over to my students.
We confronted Kayla.
"So what if I want to lose a bit of weight?", she complained.
"Anorexic, Kayla. Anorexic", I said.
"I'm clearly not anorexic", she snorted crossing her arms.
"Your have muscle", I said, "Not fat".
"Can't we just leave it?", she moaned.
"Eat", I simply said.
"Kay", she yelled then ran off home.
I'm sitting in my room, alone. Brianna's at nursery until later and Cato is somewhere. I feel like my whole life is collapsing right in front of my own eyes. With Kayla acting up and everyone over reacting about every single breath I take. Slowly, I reach for the knife I keep beside my bed and run it across my arm again, making a cut. This one brings no pain, just relief from everything. I do it again, and again.
What am I doing to myself? I can't do this in front of anyone, but I feels so nice. I cut again.
"Clove?", calls Cato from outside my room. His soft voice echoes through my shaking body.
"Er, yes?", I yell scrambling for a long sleeve top and tissues.
"You okay in there?". I'm too busy wiping up blood, waiting for it to clot. The handle opens before I can hid it.
"What are you doing?", he questions in such rage in frightens.
"N-nothing", I stutter resting on my knees, pulling down my top over my sore head then arms.
"Take it off", he barks at me, "How could you be so stupid Clove?". Cato walks over to me, "Roll up your sleeves". I shake my head, waiting for the next shout. It doesn't happen. My eyes sting but I strain then to stay open. A finger runs over my arm, Cato's.
"Why?", he whispers, "Why?". My throat tightens as I try to make a noise come out, silence. Saliva builds up in my mouth and I struggle to swallow it back down.
"You can't do this", he whispers not bothering to look at me fully. His lips touch each cut. Healed or still bleeding. "I'm going to kiss everyone of these cuts until there is no more". A warm feeling builds up inside of me and his lips continue to kiss.
"You don't have to do this, I'm a legal adult", I complain.
"Sh", Cato tells me, now looking directly into my eyes. Without thinking,I tightly wrap my arms around his neck and he pulls me closer so I feel his racing heart beat on my chest. "No more Clove, no more cutting, no more hate".
"But it hurts", I whimper softly.
"It's just them being them. Stop worrying".
"I can't".
"You have to. Your a warrior".
"No, I'm a teen mum with issues".
"Don't even try arguing with me Clover", he only calls me that when he is serious, "Your so much more than that". As expected, he grips me tighter and holds me harder. "Your also a fighter. You have gone through what no young adult should of gone through. Look at yourself, you have made it so far. Don't come crashing down now".
"I know, I know", I mumble.
That night I spent in the arms of Cato.