(For the Weekly Title contest, Dedicated to Zero. This is your request, my dear. I own nothing here.)

There were words of worlds out there. Beautiful ones, ugly ones, rich ones, poor ones, and the ones that were in between. Clove loved to imagine herself in one of the beautiful ones.

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"Get up, you worthless thing! It's time to train! Move, already!" screamed Clove's mother. Clove scurried out of bed before she could get hurt.

In her mind, she put her mother in her ugly world.

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"That was a nice throw." Commented a blonde boy. Clove smiled for the first time in a very, very long time.

"Thanks." She replied, making a mental note to put the boy in her beautiful world.

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The dark-haired boy in Clove's math class tripped her in the hallway. She fell to the floor, scattering her things everywhere.

"Need a hand up?" It was the blonde boy. Clove gathered her books and took his hand.

"Thanks." She said again. "What's your name?"

"Cato. You?"

"Clove."

"That's a pretty name."

Clove was happy she'd put him in her beautiful world.

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"I hate you!" Clove screamed at Cato, hurt and betrayal filling her eyes. "You liar!"

Clove wasn't sure what he had lied about. But if he had ever told her that he loved her, then that was the lie. Cato caught up to her, snagging her wrist.

"Clove, Clove, calm down! I swear, I didn't mean to hurt you! I'll never do anything like it again, I promise!"

Clove made Cato leave her beautiful world and forced him into her ugly world, where she hoped he'd stay.

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He didn't stay.

The apologies were too sincere. The frustration in his voice was real. Clove sat out in the rain to think it over, but it was worthless.

"You must be cold."

It was Cato. Clove looked at him though her misty eyes (she couldn't tell whether they were clouded with tears or rain). Cato stared straight back.

Clove didn't want to let him back into her beautiful world, but he broke down her walls and made her let him in.

"I hate you, sometimes, but I love you more than sometimes." Clove choked out.

She couldn't tell whether it was tears or raindrops that were on his lips.

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Clove stood with all the other girls. She wasn't paying attention when the fake woman with the fake clothes read her name. The girl next to her had to shove her to get her attention.

Clove stepped through the gate and put herself in her ugly world.

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The little boy with the curly red hair glared at her with all his power, but Clove shook of the fright and stepped further back into her ugly world. The ugly world tore at her skin, scratched her eyes, and ripped out her hair. The pain fueled the power that went into the knife.

The knife that found its home in the curly haired boy's head.

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Clove was so deep in her ugly world that she had to force herself not to eat the berries. The hovercraft came, carried Cato and herself back to the Capitol, and left her to sit in that bleak, unhappy world of hers.

It wasn't until she saw Caesar Flickerman that she took a tentative step forward. He laughed, shook her hand, asked her a few questions, and then smiled even more when Cato joined her onstage. The man had his way of making every conversation an interesting one.

And then the replay of the games started. Clove saw the curly haired boy again. She remembered the pain. And she ran back into her ugly world, hiding from the fake happiness that surrounded her.

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There were words of worlds every day. Clove heard them when she went to the training center, when she ate lunch at the Head Peacekeeper's house, and on her way home. People wanted to leave. People wanted to stay. But Clove stayed in her own world, her ugly world.

"Clove! How's it going?" Cato asked one day. She bit her lip, squeaked out a sound that sounded like, "Good", and entered her house in the victor's village. Clove didn't want any of that unreal beautiful world. She liked the pain of the ugly world.

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The ring made Clove wonder about leaving the ugly world.

It was a beautiful ring, and it belonged in her beautiful world. The ring came with beautiful words, like life, happy, and love. But to her, the words and the ring had hollow meanings.

She still said yes.

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The dress was too white, too beautiful, too happy. Clove wanted to burn it. Her father, the tired old man that he was, walked her down the aisle and gave her away. She kissed the blonde boy that helped her stand. She kissed the man who she would live the rest of her life with, the man who would father her children (if she even wanted children, which she didn't). Clove smiled the rest of the night, talked to Capitol officials, and was friendly. But deep inside, that ugly world was eating her alive.

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"It's a girl!"

Clove took the small bundle in her arms so gently that she almost thought she was holding a delicate glass sculpture. The tiny pink hands reached out to grab her thumb. Cato smiled.

"What do you want to name her?" he asked quietly. Clove asked the ugly world what name she should give this tiny being, but it responded with silence.

So she stepped over into the beautiful world, and it gave her an answer.

"I think we should name her Grace." She responded.

It took a while to get back to the ugly world.

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Holding the baby boy was no easier.

Again, she asked the ugly world for a name, again, she visited the beautiful world.

"I think we should name him Chase."

But Clove stayed in the beautiful world for a while longer.

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"Mommy, I drew you a picture!" Grace cried one day, holding out a sheet of paper for Clove to examine. It depicted Cato and Clove holding hands in what Clove thought to be a meadow full of bright flowers.

She put the picture in the beautiful world, and stayed on the edge of the ugly word so she could see it.

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"Clover? I got you something."

Cato handed his wife an ivory box. Clove opened it with her weak hands, the hands that stayed in bed all day. Inside the box was a picture of Grace and Chase, smiling as if the world was perfect. Clove's frozen heart shattered, and she put the picture in her beautiful world again.

This time, she stayed.

(Thanks for reading )