Second Hunger Games fanfic! I just love the series and all of the tributes of the 74th Hunger Games. Wish I was one of the tributes. I don't have to be named, but it seemed fun to do...

Clove

It hurts. Slowly dying with a dented skull, Cato trying to save me. Thresh. Cato has to kill him. I mean, he killed... me. He's the reason I'm dead - dying.

As I fade away, only one thing registers in my brain.

I lost.

So you can expect my surprise when I woke up in a comfortable bed.

I'm alive?

Slowly, I raised my hand, to see a neat, scarless, callous-free hand, natural and soft.

As if I was in a dream, the door opened, and a doctor walked in, face grim.

"Shouldn't I be dead?" I finally spoke, and my voice was familiar and rough.

"Okay, don't interrupt me," The doctor interrupted rudely. "President Snow isn't exactly killing children. He hasn't since he was elected. They do die, but they get... resurrected and live in an underground 'Fallen Tributes' Village. There is one of these villages for each Hunger Games. There are 73 other 'Fallen Tributes' Village. Did I lose you?" The doctor's face was grim but bored, as if he had given his spiel several times.

After I shook my head no, the doctor continued, "The other tributes are dining downstairs. Your room is engineered like a Capitolite's, so don't worry about lack of luxuries." And with that, the doctor left, and I was alone. And in shock.

I was never going to die.

All those people I killed... are downstairs.

Crawling out of my bed, I open my closet. I pull on a brown V-neck and black leggings, and slowly tie my hair up high in a ponytail. I bit my lip as I opened my door and stepped out. I found a small sign that said, "dining hall -" and followed the signs until I found the sign that said, "DINING HALL." Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.

The clatter of silverware and the small chatter ceases as everyone turns to face me. There's only one long table, and no one's sitting in any particular order, although most of the tributes are sitting near their district partners.

I can see the brief flash of pain of all my victims as I stare into their eyes. I see Glimmer and Marvel, staring sympathetically as I faced every tribute. I could feel it: something I hadn't felt because District 2 had trained all the emotion out of us. Guilt.

The words came tumbling out of my mouth. "I'm sorry." The words ring out, and they echo around the room. Then, slowly, the male tribute from District 9 stands up. He's the one I killed first. When I was hunting for Katniss.

Gingerly, cautiously, he stands in front of me. For five long seconds, he stares at me. Then, he hugs me tightly. It takes only a second to return the hug.

Everyone claps, and I smile brightly. Even after all I've done, they still forgive me.

Taking my hand, the boy leads me to the table and I sit down next to him.

A plate appeared in front of me, a small menu on it.

I slowly picked it up and scanned it quickly.

"Say what you want in it, and you'll get it soon enough," the boy from District 9 smiles at my confusion.

"Thanks..." I bit my lip. I didn't even learn his name, and he still is friendly to me.

"Trevor," he smiles still.

"Clove," I give him a grin in return.

"So, what's it like here?" I ask, staring around the sterile room.

"It's like a hospital, but it's... just like this until we decorate it," Trevor explained. "We're getting it repainted in a sunshine color, with the emblem of each of our districts emblazoned on it."

"Sounds, nice, doesn't it?" Marvel asks, staring wistfully around the room.

"Yeah, it does. Um... I don't see..." I can't get his name out somehow. Cato. I need him. I want him.

"Cato?" Glimmer asks. Slowly, I nod. "He's... still fighting." Glimmer bit her lip.

"What?" I gasp.

Suddenly, there is the sound of beeping. A TV screen above the entrance flickers to life, revealing Cato.

"Cato," I whisper, my voice tight.

He's running, but from what? Katniss and Peeta aren't fast enough to chase him for that long.

Then I see it.

A pack of mutts.

The one chasing him, close to nipping at him, is a small-ish, dark haired wolf mutt with malicious eyes. A "2" is on a small cloth around its waist with stones.

It's me.

"Clove?" Trevor shakes me. I stare at him.

"The Capitol is so cruel," I sob, breaking down.

Trevor pulls me into his arms while I cry. One by one, the other tributes turned away from the TV screen to comfort me, coming over and giving me a hug.

That night, in the parlor where the other tributes are resting, I try to sneak in the door unnoticed. But after the events of the Hunger Games, everyone senses me.

"Clove!"

"Are you okay?"

"It's alright."

They exclaim as they continue to sit around the fire, watching the TV screen. I make the mistake to glance up at it, and what I see immediately crushes me.

Cato is being eaten alive.

I watch him silently, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Suddenly, I jump when I feel a pair of arms wrap themselves around me. Turning, I see Rue, who's staring up at me with an expression of sorrow and understanding. Right by her side, looking only at Rue, is Thresh. He died a few days after I did, and we saw each other briefly, but we were too far away to say anything.

I bite my lip. I'm faced with my killer, who's not looking at me.

"It was okay to kill me, you know," I tell him, finally making him look at me, "I wasn't that nice, taunting Katniss about Rue," I glance down at her, who gives me a small smile.

Seconds pass before Thresh cracks a smile. "You're not too bad, 2," he says, before plopping on the floor next to me. Glancing quickly at the screen, Thresh tells me, "Cato's dead."

I look up. An arrow is embedded in his head, his face calm and somewhat peaceful, although he's covered in blood.

Trevor, who's sitting on an armchair near me, leans down and whispers in my ear, "He's coming."

Cato's coming.

A big grin graces my lips.

Cato

Torn to death. Sounds bad, huh? Being ripped apart and eaten by mutts/former allies/fellow tributes? Horrendously painful. I failed. I failed to become victor. For Clove.

As I feel the twinge of an arrow hitting my head, there's only one thought floating in my mind.

I'm coming, Clove.

What do you think? I came up with this at a study during school. My friends said it was "interesting." Wonder if that means it's good or not...

~squirmyorchid~