The Feast (Cato's Point of View)
Here's the feast of the 74th Hunger Games from District 2's Cato's point of view
All I remember was wanting to kill her so bad; District 12. Clove always told me that she was weak. She told me I could kill her if I wanted. But I knew how badly she wanted to, so I promised her she could. "You can do it, Clove," I told her genuinely. She grinned at me in response; she had a beautiful smile. Her long black hair glinted from the sun's shine and when the wind blew it, I swear I nearly lost my control. She was so beautiful. The only beautiful thing in these Games. "Cato," she whispered silently to me once we reached the edge of the cornucopia. "Listen, stay here in case Lover Boy shows up. I've got the girl." The way she said "girl" was more like her referencing to a piece of trash. I grinned and nodded, watching as she disappeared towards the Horn. I watched as the District 5 girl grabbed her pack and disappeared into the trees. District 12 was fuming and she darted to her's. I smiled as Clove slammed her to the ground. Blood flowed from 12's forehead and I could actually smell the putrid odor from where I stood. Clove's eyes darted towards me and I knew what she wanted me to do. Find Peeta. Find the freak that should have been dead. Clove's brown eyes locked with my blue ones and I headed back into the depth of the woods. I knew what she wanted me to do. I must have scanned every patch of vegetation, only to find the same thing each time: No Peeta. The wimp must be dying. He isn't coming. I grinned and turned wildly, to hear Clove's voice scream my name. "CATO!" she shrieked; Clove. She must be in trouble. I turned on my heels and sprinted to the Cornucopia. "Clove!" I responded, but it was too late. Our eyes met again, both filled with fear, and I observed helplessly as the rock smashed against her skull. She groaned loudly and collapsed to the ground. In Thresh's hand was the rock, covered in Clove's blood. He dashed with his backpack and District 2's. District 12 was gone. Infuriated and despaired, I made a made dash to Clove's side. Her eyes twitched and her head spun and I could only cry, clutching her hand. "Clove," I choked, sobbing, allowing my tears to stain her emotionless face. "Clove." "Cato," she said back in a quiet whisper. She raised a meek hand to touch my face and then it fell to her side. "Win," she rasped. "I'll win," I cried desperately. "For us. But don't leave me." Her eyes gave a final spin and Clove's cannon fired. I stood, shaking with anger, sadness, and determination and fired down Thresh's path. I cleared my red, puffy eyes, not ever allowing my sadness to show to that beast. I would have time for crying later. I found Thresh soon, not even attempting to hide in the grasses of the grain field. "YOU," I spit venemously. "You foul beast! You will never get away with this! You've scorned my District, shamed me, and killed Clove! How dare you." Thresh had determination in his eyes and he unwaveringly replied, "That is what has to be done in these Games, Cato." "Don't say my name," I shouted accusingly. "Not until you beg me for death." We circled each other for a moment, sizing each other up, when I stopped. I smiled. Thresh only had the pathetic weapon in his hand. He may be much bigger than I am, but weaponless, he is nothing. He saw my smile and fear shone in his large brown eyes. I took advantage of his emotion and thrust the sword into his abdomen. Thresh staggered backward, clutching his stomach and he forced himself to stay standing. That was fine by me. My spear found its way into his left leg and it collapsed. Thresh fell to the ground. I tortured that man with slaps and stabs, not quite enough to be fatal. And he suffered. He suffered so much. And he deserved it. Thresh deserved to suffer because of what he did to Clove. My Clove. The girl I planned to marry once we one the Games. We were going to have a house together in Victor's Village. We would live next to Enobaria and Brutus and Lyme and all the others that hoped we would win. Her token was our engagement ring. I would have told the world, but there is not enough room in this arena for two sets of star-crossed lovers. I always insisted 12 was real; but Clove didn't think so. "I pity the boy," Clove had told me. "He loves her so. But her love is so fake." I now know what she was saying. I watched as the last bits of life left Thresh's eyes. He gave a final sound of defeat and his cannon sounded. Only 4 players left. I headed back to camp. Alone, Without Clove. The last Career still standing. Let the Games begin Katniss, I think to myself. Let the Games begin.