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74th Hunger Games Rewritten from Clove's POV

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The Reaping

Life in District Two has never been easy. The other Districts might think we can kick back and relax. But we can't. I mean sure life here is easier than in other Districts. But to have everything you had to be extremely lucky to have everything you pleased. Sure we did get our three meals a day but they were kind of stale. Leftovers from the Capitol, i called them. All of us were lucky to train every day. We were ready for the Hunger Games. Our meals were so stale so that's why we volunteered for the Hunger Games. Not only would we prove ourselves worthy to our parents and to have a life of ease and riches back home. And sure to us the Hunger Games were exciting to participate in but they were also scary to us. I was one of those lucky few. My name is Clove Henderson. My mom had died shortly after i turned twelve. Then my dad fell into a depression and started drinking. He took his anger out on me and my sister Clar. I had the money to train privately with Enobaria and Brutus. District 2's pride and joy. Cato was my friend. We trained and laughed together. He was always there for me. He would help me when my dad was drunk. I helped him. He helped me. Simple as that.

But at the academy we were serious. It was all training. No laughter but occasionally a smile happened there. We taught each other everything. Together we were unstoppable. But i was better. We both knew it even if we didn't say it out loud. But he stopped talking to me. Nobody helped me when my dad was drunk. I was miserable and sad. In the academy i would leave my troubles behind. I wouldn't worry about Cato, my dad. I only focused on becoming unstoppable. I succeeded. Over the years i became mean and snobbish for lact of comfort and love. Except with Clar. Clar and i loved each other and nothing separated us. She was the only one i cared about. Everybody knew me as Clove, the girl who never misses. but only Clar knew the true me. Everybody thought i was mean, cold and snobbish. With them, yes. With Clar never. At the academy i would be free of all fear and worries. Since i had started training at 2 years of age with knives i was in advanced class. I was with Enobaria and a few others. Sometimes i suspected Enobaria cared about me. I liked that thought. When i pleased her she would flash me a smile so sincere i wanted to cry. But i didn't. I had to keep my reputation.

She became one of the people i cared about. Cato even if he stopped talking me. Enobaria how would always support me. Brutus who really cared and worried about me. My dad even if he was a drunk he once laughed and played with me. And Clar, i loved Clar more than everybody else.

When i looked at Brutus i remembered things. I remembered how i felt when my dad was in one of his moods, not feeding us. I had felt scared, alone, fragile, weak, lonely, terrified at those times. That is how i felt when the escort called my name. "Clove Henderson," she cheered. The girls around me separated so i had a straight path towards the stage. As i took small, stiff steps toward the stage i heard whispers and felt horrified. They were happy because they hated me. Jealous because i was the best. They looked cruelly at me. I tried to appear confident while really i was cowering inside and they bought it. They looked shocked. I longed to throw a knife at their heads. But i couldn't. I could only say goodbye to District 2 and Clar as i was never coming back. Clar! I ached at leaving her alone with my dad. But she wouldn't miss anything except me and she could live without me. But deep down i doubted that.

I climbed the stage. "Any volunteers?" the escort asked. I prayed that somebody would take my spot. Nobody stepped up. Not even Clar. I was downcast at that and a wave of shame went through me. How could i want to see my little sister on that TV fighting for her life. I scan the crowd looking for her face. When i find it she mouths the obvious "Win". I nod. Her eyes fill with tears. She knows i can't win. But maybe i can.............

"Now it is time to pick the boy tribute," the escort says and walks to the boy's bowl. Her manicured pale hand dives into the bowl and swims until she chooses a slip. She comes back and reads the name out loud. "Chase Newmoon," she reads out. "I volunteer," screams a familiar voice. The boy starts walking towards the stage. I look towards him and my heart sinks into my stomach. The blonde hair, the look in his eyes. Cato has volunteered. He strides towards the stage looking confident. But he isn't faking it. He actually looks excited. Now I'm going to leave my sister behind and have to kill Cato, my former best friend.

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