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"No," it came out as a whisper, unintended.
Cato came up to me, stroked my face with his thumb. He looked down into my eyes, intense.
"Yes, Clove," he whispered to me, "You need to win, go home and live your life. Meet someone else that makes you happy. Get married. You'll move on."
"No, no I don't want anyone else," I said. My throat was clogging up, tears beginning to build up. "I want you. I want to marry you. I want to live my life with you. I love you too much to find anyone else!"
"Clove, babe, I love you too and that's why I have to do this!" he sounded desperate, wanting me to understand something I would never accept.
My bottom lip wobbled as I tried holding in the tears.
"I don't want to have to live without you!" I said, beginning to become hysterical. There had to be a way out of this. It had to be a cruel joke. I don't want to be without him. I couldn't be without him.
I closed the distance between us, burying my face in his shirt, and letting go of the pain, the tears.
Cato held me close to him, kissing the top of my head, murmuring, "Shh, it's okay. It'll be okay. You'll be fine, babe. Just calm down. I'm not going anywhere, not right now."
Then he became quiet, alone from the occasional deep, shaky breath. I looked up. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, but not before I could see the single tear on his cheek.
This broke me down entirely. I cried even harder into his shirt, and he picked me up, bringing me to the bed. He held me, and I eventually cried myself out.
"Clove...just remember something," he said, looking down into my eyes.
"What is it?" I asked timidly.
"That I would give anything, absolutely anything to be able to go home with you. To finally marry you. And that I love you. More than anything else could even compare to."
I snuggled deeper into him, and murmured, "I love you too," right before drifting off.
FLASHBACK
"Clove, c'mon. We're friends and all, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to get in trouble for you!"
I made a growling noise directed at the door, and I heard Cato laugh. I finished the second braid in my hair, slipped on my shoes, and headed for the door.
Cato and I ran down the stairs and out the door, sprinting to the Training Center. He kept on sticking his hand out to slow me down, so he could get there first. I laughed, pushing his arm down and running harder, just beating him to the door.
He lightly punched me in the arm as we went inside, departing to different hallways- him to the eleven year old hallway and me to the nine year olds.
I went through the day as usual- Combat, Survival, Lunch, Games History, and then finally Specialty Training. My time to shine. I was great at Combat, my Survival skills were fine, and Games History is the stupidest class ever. Who wants to just sit around and watch old Games, then talk about why certain people won? Then there was Specialty Training. I looked forward to it, relished in it. The time when I could take out my knives, and summon the darker part of me. The part of me that tried to kill that Peacekeeper. The part of me that will never waver in its fury at my mothers death.
But even that class was just the usual that day.
Cato, as usual, walked me halfway home so we could talk, then left me to the rest of my journey home alone.
I walked inside and kicked my boots off.
"Hey."
I looked up to see my father. My father and...well, somebody. A woman somebody. She was grossly thin, with straight blonde hair and expensive-looking clothing.
"You must be Clove," she said.
Immediately, my defenses went up. I glared at her.
"Yeah, I'm Clove," I said, no hospitality in my voice.
She looked me up and down.
"How long have you been training, Clove?" she asked. Weird question.
"About a year," I said. A year since my mother was killed. The next day, Cato had taken me to the Training Center with him. I had been going ever since.
"Nine years old then. Which weapon is your favorite, sweetheart?"
Sweetheart? Ew. I don't even know this lady's name and all we've talked about is my training for the Games.
"Knives," I said, a slight smirk playing on my face.
"Knives, huh?" she said.
"Yeah, knives. That's what I said," I said, getting annoyed. Why did she care?
My dad cleared his throat.
"Anyway," he said. "Um, Clove, this is Mia. I've been, uh, seeing her...for a while...and well...we're getting married."
And I ran out the door.