"Cato! Cato!"

I run like I've never run before, shouting for Clove, willing myself to be even faster.

But I already know I won't reach her in time, the outright panic in her voice tells me as much.

If there were even the slightest chance I might make it, she'd know and she'd laugh in the face of any danger – but I run anyway and I hope, pray, plead with fate.

Then I see her and even the last, miniscule shred of hope is wrenched away from me.

I fall to my knees, filled with a horror I could never have imagined.

She looks much smaller, somehow, so tiny with her smirk gone, with her eyes wide with fear and pain.

"Clove,"I choke out, lifting her into my arms as tenderly as I can manage but she still winces with pain."Don't leave me, Clove. We'll go home. We'll make it. You promised, Clove. We'll go home."

A drop of water falls onto her pale face, then another and another - after a moment of confusion I realise that I'm crying, something I haven't done in as long as I can remeber.

Her hand comes up to brush my cheek and I can tell how much effort it costs her."Cameras."

I understand, of course. She wants me to stop crying, to stop showing weakness to sponsor. But I can't, and I continue to ramble on."He showed up out of nowhere. I was distracted by District 5. I'm so sorry, Clove, I should have been faster. Don't die because I wasn't fast enough. Please, stay with me. I'm so sorry, Clove, don't leave me."

"Don't be sorry for anything,"she says, her voice barely audible. Somehow, she manages to smile."Win for me, Cato."

And she goes limp in my arms.

It takes me a few seconds to realise that the feral, agonised howl filling my ears is tearing from my own throat.

It doesn't take me long to catch up with Thresh and although he puts up a good fight, I eventually overpower him, my spear through his lower abdomen nailing him securely to the ground.

"I hope you're comfortable, Eleven,"I say calmly, sneering down at him, seemingly my old self again. I have to win, now more than ever, and to win I can't show weakness. I can mourn later."Because we will be here for a while."

I pull out a knife – Clove's favourite – and start slashing the boy who took her from me to pieces.

Unfortunately for him, I know exactly where to cut without giving him the sweet relief of death and I also know we won't be interrupted. Five and the Twelves won't come for me and the Gamemakers never say no to a fabulously gruesome show.

And I intend to put on the best show the Games have ever seen. Something no one will ever forget.

By using her weapon, by snarling her name into his blood covered face, I make it perfectly clear that this is revenge for Clove.

No one will ever forget my act of vengeance, so no one will ever forget her, either. Not like those countless, nameless, faceless fallen in other Games. Clove will be remembered, I make sure of it.

It takes long, much longer than I would have expected from even him, until he turns into a screaming, quivering, begging heap of flesh and I decide it is enough, no longer exciting for the viewers. It's time for the grand finale.

I slice open his chest, plunge my hand into his body and tear out his heart like he did to me by taking my Clove from me.

I turn and leave his mutilated remains to be collected, his still warm heart in my hand as I make my way back to the Cornucopia, to the place she died in my arms.

I lay Thresh's heart down right where she took her last breath.

She had my heart, and I couldn't save her.

She had my heart, but that wasn't enough.

So the least I can do is offer her that of her killer.