When The Odds Add Up

Katniss Everdeen had a slim chance of winning the Hunger Games. She was a girl with a good shot, but the Careers from Two have trained their whole life for this. There is no way she could beat Cato or Clove in a fight. This is is what happens when the odds add up. Please let me know if you like this! Just testing the waters.


1. Prologue

"Of course it's just us. What did you think was going to happen? That bitch from Twelve would be standing in front of you?" I screamed at Cato, one knife in each hand, each dripping blood.

"Clove, this could be fun. Don't be so angry. Now drop the knives and come here." Cato smirked and raised his eyebrows. His spear raised,aimed at my heart.

We stood only feet away. Grass was our only separation. I was feet from victory. Feet and Cato that is. The strongest man I have ever known, the most talented, the deadliest, and certainly the cockiest son of a bitch I have ever met. God I hate him. I have always wanted to kill him. I could throw a knife right into his chest and it'd be over.

Throw it, Clove. You'll finally have the victory and he won't. You Will finally win!

My brain is fighting my heart. My heart tells me to drop my knife and go to him while my brain says kill him. I have spent lots of time it's him these past few weeks and he wasn't that bad. Him and I are a lot alike. We are actually friends.

Come on, kill the bastard. He always made you look like a fool back home, now is your chance. Don't drop the knives. You're crazy!

Clove, he won't kill you. Drop the knives and go to him. You always have a backup knife. He won't kill you, you're friends.

"Why,so you have a fair shot at winning? What do you think I am? An idiot?"

"Fine then." The spear fell from his right hand and bounced by his foot. He pulled a sword out of his jacket and dropped it too.

What is he doing? He must be luring me in. I can't actually believe this. He is a killer! He is a brutal killer. Why would he be dropping his weapons? Does he want to fight me with his bare hands?

"Wh-what are you doing? You must really think I'm stupid."

"Listen," he stepped forward and I threw the knife from my right hand.

He dodged it. I got ready to throw my next one. "Stop, I will kill you, Cato." I swallowed hard as I took a few steps back. He continued to come at me so I threw. He turned and it hit his right arm, his throwing arm.

"Really? Don't get violent on me now. I have no weapons. I'm not going to kill you, I promise."

The thing was he didn't need a weapon. He can snap my neck just like the boy's from Three. This was it. Cato wanted to win just as much as me, but he wanted to do it the most brutal and personal way possible. I have one more knife. I will let him get close. I will trick him. I can do this.

"I'm out." I breathed heavily from fear and exhaustion. "Cato, please."

He now stands right in front of me. He towers over me. His blue eyes shine as he looks into mine. "Clove, please." He grabs my waist with his big, strong hands and pulls me into his hard,toned chest. My breathing gets harder and heavier with every breath.

I stand frozen in his arms. Staring into his eyes,I try to get a word out. Fear has taken over. This has never happened before.

"Breath, Clove." He reaches under shirt, his cold hands grazing my skin. Still frozen, he goes under my bra.

Is he trying to get at me? Next thing I know, his hands are around my waist again and my emergency knife is at my feet. He disarmed me. He is playing me. I take a breath and my sense are back. I go to kick him in the crotch, but he grabs my leg. I begin to throw punches and get him a few times. Blood is dripping from his nose and it trails my knuckles.

I try to run, but he still has my leg. I fall and hit my nose hard on the ground. Blood flies out. This is it. I'm gone. He flips me over so I'm looking him dead in the eyes.

"Come on, get up." He offers his left hand. I realize his right is bleeding heavily from my knife. The lower half of his face is now red instead of his skin tone. I take his reached out hand and he pulls me to my feet.

"Just kill me! Please, don't make me suffer. You have done enough of that over the years. Snap my neck, please. Get me out of here. You'll be doing me a favor." I think as these may be my last words. "I don't know why I trusted you. I should've killed you while you were asleep. Do you know how many times I could have! I thought I was wrong about back home, but no. You are still a brutal bastard who kills for sport. I hope you live a slow, long, suffering life!"

"Clove, I'm not going to kill you. I can't. I'm in love with you."

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