Part IV: The Missing Knife

I sat there for a few moments, trying to analyze what had just happened. That simple gesture was loaded with meaning. She had touched my shoulder, almost as if she… cared about me. And this worried me more than anything. Why would she show that side of herself to me? Did she really trust me, or was she trying to mess with my head?

I must have sat and pondered Clove's actions for more time than I realized, because when I looked at the gold clock on the wall it was already 10:02. I was late to my meeting with Glimmer.

I jumped from the couch and paused to check myself in the mirror. I took a moment to run my fingers through my hair. I didn't really understand why, but I had learned from experience that girls would fall all over themselves when my hair was messy. I guess there was something appealing about guys looking like they had just rolled out of bed.

The elevator opened before I pressed the button. Brutus' expressionless face greeted me as he stepped through the doors.

"Where do you think you're going, boy?" he demanded gruffly.

"I just wanted to take a walk," I answered casually.

"You're not allowed to leave your floor," Brutus answered, but a smile was creeping onto his face. He knew where I was going. He might have even caught sight of her waiting for me downstairs.

"I won't be gone long. I promise."

Brutus folded his arms and looked at me for a few moments. "All right. If you're not back by 11:00, I'm coming to get you."

I grinned and nodded before slipping into the elevator. One floor later, I was stepping outside into the dark lobby. I peered through the dimness, looking for her.

"I thought you'd forgotten about me."

I smiled and glanced around, catching a glimpse of her golden hair across the room. "You should give my memory more credit," I replied casually, approaching the corner I had seen her disappear behind. Hearing me approach, she emerged from her hiding spot.

My breath caught in my throat and I stopped dead in my tracks. Her eyes glinted as I took in what she was wearing. She had kept the gold heels she wore for her interview, but she was wearing much less than she had been while on camera. A pink silk nightgown clung to her perfect body, the black lingerie underneath it all too apparent. A satin robe hung loosely on her shoulders, and her hair cascaded down her back in magnificent curls.

A feeling stirred inside of me as I looked at her. It was delicious and thrilling, but utterly simple. It was lust. I lusted for Glimmer.

It was true. I was feeling something. I was feeling something towards another human being. I wasn't empty anymore. And this was something that my father would certainly not approve of.

But I didn't care.

"All this for me?" I asked, my voice husky with desire as I stroked the soft material of her gown. She pursed her glossed lips, trying not to smile.

"I don't know what you mean. This is what I always sleep in," she answered flirtatiously, her robe slipping down her shoulder as she reached up to touch my hair.

"I like what you've done with your hair," she murmured. I closed my eyes at her touch. Her hands were so soft, and she smelled like strawberries.

Her body was against mine now, and I opened my eyes to see her gazing at me. The heels she wore made her the perfect height. Not taller than me, but right in kissing range.

I pushed her hair back and placed my hand on her cheek. She nuzzled her face against my skin and smiled dreamily at me. She was pulling out all the stops. I had to admit, she was pretty good at this game.

But I was better.

I placed my hand on the small of her back and grabbed her lovely manicured hand. Her perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed in confusion as I started swaying back and forth with her.

"What are you doing?" she asked. I grabbed her free hand and placed it on my shoulder.

"I'm dancing with you. What does it look like I'm doing?"

Her eyes were shining, pleasantly surprised at my romantic gesture. Perfect.

"There's no music," she pointed out. I smiled in amusement and dipped her, looking deep into her sapphire eyes.

"We don't need it," I whispered, slowly lifting her back up to me. Her eyes were sparkling with desire as I dropped her hand and slowly lifted her gown to caress her thigh.

"Come here," she murmured, placing her hands on the sides of my face and trying to pull me in for a kiss. It seemed Glimmer wasn't a very patient girl. I liked that.

I leaned down and softly kissed her lips, pressing one hand into the back of her thigh and burying another in her long mane of hair. She moaned softly and shrugged off her robe, pressing her body against mine as she deepened the kiss. Her every contour fit me perfectly.

I had kissed plenty of girls, but it had never felt this way. It had never felt this exciting, this thrilling, or this… real. Glimmer wanted me. She wanted me just as much as I wanted her. With the other girls, I'd been bored within ten seconds. But she was experienced, and determined to keep me enthralled.

She ripped off my shirt with surprising strength and threw it to the floor before finding my lips again. Her hands traveled my body, gently caressing my arms and my chest. The kiss was growing in intensity until she abruptly broke away. I opened my eyes, about to ask what was wrong, until I realized she was staring at something on my chest. I followed her gaze to see her hand resting on the ugly pink scar that ran the length of my right shoulder area.

"What happened?" she asked, looking up at me with sad eyes. This was a new turn of events. Girls usually admired my scar.

"It happened when I was younger. I was practicing sword fighting with my father and I was too late defending myself from one of his blows. He told me it was a good lesson for me. Left me bleeding outside until my younger brother found me and called for help."

My tone was very casual; I had told this story many times before. But this seemed to somehow deepen Glimmer's sadness. She looked at me for a few moments before leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on the scar. Another followed the first as she covered the length of raised skin. When she reached the end, she placed one final kiss on top of my shoulder before inclining her head to look at me.

I was left breathless at her tender gesture.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, my voice shaking. I didn't feel in control anymore. I didn't feel confident. I was putty in her hands.

"My father used to beat me," she whispered, tracing my scar absentmindedly, "When I wasn't doing well enough in training, he'd beat me until I improved. It was awful, but I suppose I should thank him for it, right?"

"No, you shouldn't," I said angrily, tipping her chin up to look at me. Her eyes were filling with tears and she was trying hard not to show it.

"I'm a good fighter. People underestimate me because of the way I look," she whispered tearfully.

Guilt crawled in my stomach. I had judged her as a lesser fighter because of her beauty. I was one of those people.

"Then you have to show them. Show them in the arena." I couldn't stand seeing her like this. I couldn't stand seeing joyful, lovely Glimmer with tears running down her face.

What had started out as the beginning of a lustful one-night stand had somehow turned into an unbelievably personal moment between the two of us. Glimmer understood. She understood what it was like to have a cold and abusive father. She understood the weight of such a father's expectations. She was like me.

"That's why I volunteered. I wanted to show him. I wanted to show him that I was valuable. That I could get sponsors. That I could win. Even Marvel doesn't take me seriously. He just parades me around like a trophy. He thinks I'm madly in love with him."

"So, are you? Do I have competition?" I asked jokingly, wrapping my arms around her tiny waist.

She laughed and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Definitely not. He's nothing like you."

I grinned, gently tracing her collarbone with my fingers. "And what am I like?"

She looked closely at me for a few extended moments before responding. "Strong. Determined. Confident. Sexy. And… a little sad. Like you crave something you can't have."

I leaned in to kiss her before she could see the look of utter surprise on my face. How did she know? How could she tell that just from looking at me? Did it show in my face? Did everyone know?

She seemed to sense my panic because she pulled away. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. But tell me… What is it you want so badly?"

A normal life.

To be the 74th Annual Hunger Games victor.

My father's approval.

You.

"What I want, right now, is to take you to my bed and hold you until the sun comes up," I whispered, turning her around to kiss her neck. She giggled softly.

"As wonderful as that sounds, I'm sure my mentor wouldn't be as fond of that idea," she replied, sighing as I continued to kiss her lovely neck.

Mentor. I glanced around until I found a clock. 10:55. Damn.

"Speaking of mentors, I have to be back in five minutes or mine will come looking for me." I sighed in frustration into her hair.

Glimmer turned around abruptly. "Five minutes? Well, I guess I'll have to give you something to remember then, won't I?" I watched, entranced, as she stepped back and slipped the nightgown off. It fell into a silky puddle on the floor, and I feared I might join it as I took her in.

Her skin glowed in the darkness as she walked towards me, making her appear to be some sort of celestial being I was simply imagining. Her hair was as gold as the sun itself, and her eyes sparkled like two impeccable sapphire gems. She was perfect. I blinked a few times, just to assure myself that what I was seeing was real.

Maybe this was what living was like. This feeling.

She finally reached me and I gathered her up in my arms, pressing my lips to hers urgently. I needed to memorize the taste of her. I needed to remember this moment, this feeling, and engrave it into my mind forever. She seemed to want the same.

After all, in a few days, one of us would certainly be dead.

I forced myself to pull away from her when I knew that the hour was almost upon us. I didn't want anyone else seeing Glimmer this exposed, especially Brutus. She was mine.

Mine. I tested the word a few times. No, she wasn't mine. One night didn't make her mine.

"I have to go," I whispered, stroking her cheek. She clasped my hand and gazed up at me with misty eyes.

"I wish you could stay," she murmured, turning her head to gently kiss my palm.

I smiled at her. "Me too."

She bent down to retrieve her robe, and I watched as she slipped it back on and ran a hand through her golden hair.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she whispered, holding my eyes for a moment before walking away and disappearing around the corner.

I wondered, only briefly, if Marvel was still awake. Had he seen her sneak out? Would he try to convince her to let him into her bed? Would he play the friend card, the partner card, the "I just don't want to be alone tonight" card?

I didn't even know Marvel and already I wanted to kill him. But I supposed that was a good mindset to have on the night before the Games.

I longed to follow her and make sure that it was me in her bed, not Marvel. But not to do anything. Though I was sure Glimmer would be a fantastic bed partner, I didn't want that from her. Just to sleep next to her would be enough. To sleep, with the comfort and warmth of another human being.

Glancing at the clock, I realized I was almost out of time. It was 10:59. I ran to the elevator and made it up back to my floor just as Brutus was heading out of his room.

"I'm back, as promised," I grunted, ignoring his amused expression as I made a beeline for my room.

"Hope you had some fun," he called back. I heard the door shut behind him and I smiled. Yeah, I had some fun, old man.

"Where have you been?" Clove's tone wasn't accusing, just curious. I turned around to see her still fully clothed, leaning against the doorframe to her room.

"I thought you were going to bed," I answered easily, not really wanting to tell her exactly where I was. I was sure she could figure it out.

"Like I could sleep. I'm already ready to decapitate someone, and the Games are still hours away."

I couldn't help laughing. I loved her sadism. It inspired me. After all, there was no way I couldn't be ready and raring to spill some blood with a girl like Clove on my side.

"They have all the footage of the old Games on the TV's – Come into my room."

She looked like she was about to hesitate before I added, "We can watch your favorite."

"How do you know what my favorite year is?" she asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile.

"Please. 37th Annual Hunger Games. The mountain range arena. Year of Tara the Terrible."

"Why would that year be my favorite?" Clove asked innocently.

I laughed again. "You know, it might have something to do with the fact that Tara became the victor by singlehandedly taking down her opponents with a pocket knife and then carving their hearts from their chests," I mimicked the motion in the air before continuing, "Oh, and let's not forget the fact that she kept them all after the Games were over, and now displays them in jars on her mantelpiece in Victor's Village."

She grinned maniacally and nodded. "All right, so that's definitely my favorite year. We gonna watch it or what?"

I opened my door and gestured for her to come inside.

We stayed up until two and got through three Games (all won by District 2, of course). After deciding the pillows were much too fluffy for her taste, Clove had tried to lie on my stomach and use me as a pillow, but then complained my abs were too hard which lead to us laughing ridiculously about the statement for at least ten minutes.

She did, however, manage to find a comfy spot against my side, and I had thrown my arm around her to prevent it from falling asleep. This is the position in which I woke, except she was a lot closer to me than she had been before.

In fact, any normal person would have called what Clove was doing cuddling. But District 2's aren't exactly normal, so I just dismissed it as the result of her being cold in the middle of the night and seeking warmth.

She was still fast asleep, so I took a moment to look at her in this rare state.

Her lips were slightly parted and her eyebrows were relaxed, not harshly drawn together as they usually were. But the most noticeable difference was her hand. It sat limply on my chest, her fingers resting innocently on the fabric of my shirt and her knuckles caved in. It wasn't tensed, nor was it curled around an invisible knife. It was a simple, human hand that told no stories of the blood it was capable of shedding or the wounds it was trained to inflict.

And then I realized something. It was something incredibly important, but the importance was lost on me in the moment.

Clove wasn't sleeping with her knife. Back in my days at the Academy, I had heard it whispered through the halls that she always slept with a knife, and she had accidentally stabbed her mother in the hand when she came to check on her in the middle of the night. She had even admitted to it when confronted with the rumor.

But she wasn't sleeping with her knife now. Even though we were in a swanky hotel suite, I knew she wouldn't feel truly comfortable without her knife in her hand. So why hadn't she brought her knife into my room? Maybe she forgot about it. Or maybe she figured she'd be going back to her room.

I would realize later that it was none of these things.

She was awake now. Upon realizing how closely she was lying against me, she bolted up as if I was suddenly on fire.

"What time is it?" she demanded. I sat up lazily and checked the digital clock.

"It's seven. We leave here at nine."

Her shoulders relaxed, but not by much. I looked down and sure enough, one of her hands was clenched, as if around a knife. She was looking everywhere but me. This was one of those moments that made me extremely anxious. Clove's eyes gave everything away, which usually wasn't a big deal because they were full of a thirst for blood and nothing more. But this time they were full of something else, and whatever it was, she was determined to hide it from me.

"Clove, you okay?" I asked hesitantly.

She nodded, pursing her lips. "Yeah. I'm going to shower."

And without looking at me, she got off the bed and raced out the door.

End of Part IV