“I volunteer as tribute.”
It felt like a damn blow on my back when I heard her voice.
She knows I’m volunteering. Why the heck would she volunteer?!
I looked at her as she make her way to the stage. She had no hint of fear, or hesitation. All these years I thought I’m the only one playing. Maybe both of us were. She made a fool out of me. Fvck this sh*t!
“Excellent! Wonderful!” Benvolia squeals happily.
“What’s your name dear?”
“Clove Eastwood.”
Should I still volunteer? We’ll be competitors? I can’t kill her. But what if she doesn’t survive? I need to go. I felt my ears ringing. This is just heck!
“Tybalt Re-“
“I volunteer!”
I lunged towards pushing the guy in front of me. There’s no backing out now.
“Come, come.”
As I walk towards the stage I noticed her glance towards me.
“What’s your name dear?”
“Cato Auburn.”
“Very well. We have the new tributes for the 74th Hunger Games. May the Odds, be ever in your favor!”
The people in the square clapped and chattered. Some were excited, thinking the odds were definitely in our favor. Some disappointed as they weren’t given the chance to be the 74th set of tribute in our district.
I looked at Clove wishing she will look back. As if we never knew each other personally.
I remembered the day I told I love her. The day before, I was so confused. I made up my mind and decided I was in here because of the Games. But when our lips met, it’s not the gravity that held me in that place anymore. Fvvk I’m being corny. Now here’s the catch, I saw a future. With her. I saw two kids running around the yard of one of the Victor’s Village house. A black-haired boy and a blonde girl smiling happily waving at us.
I hate myself. I hate falling for the trap I’ve set. I hate that we are now competitors. I hate the Hunger Games. I hate this damn Capitol and this damn country we’re living.
Right now, I’m not sure the odds we’re in my favor.
After the mayor read the Treaty Treason, she motioned for me and Clove to shake hands, acknowledging each other. We did. But the warm hand that always help me was now a cold one the same as her face.
We turn back and faced the crowd as Panem’s anthem, which sounded as my funeral song was playing.
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CloveCullen
