Through the television screen, I glare at them. I glare at them all. Their faces are forever plastered into my brain. That beautiful, classical looking girl from District 1 and the boy to match. The small boy from District 3 and his female counterpart. No one really catches my attention until the televised replays of the reapings play the District 11 reaping. The girl is a pixie-like twelve-year-old. Tiny. I could smash her skull into a million pieces with my bare hands without even blinking. The boy, however, is another thing entirely. He's got a good build, and already I can see that unless I can get him as an ally, he could potentially be trouble. His picture dissolves away, and then the television plays the reaping for District 12. I'm about get up and go to bed, since no one ever watches out for the District 12 tributes, but I'm held in place by Brutus's hand on my shoulder.

"Look," he says quietly.

Another twelve-year-old girl is reaped. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Just as tiny as that other one. And just as fragile. I don't see what the point is in watching her shakingly making her way to the stage, and I'm about to point that out to Brutus, but then I'm caught off guard.

A different girl with long, dark hair shoots up from the crowd and soars for the little blonde girl. She's screaming what must be the little girl's name. Pushing the blonde one behind her, she practically begs to volunteer. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Well, well. This one has some spunk. Not a big deal, though. Even though she's muscular, she's lean. Odds are she'll die of hunger before the real fun begins.

I get up with a groan. "Well, Brutus, if that's all," I begin. "Then I best be heading to bed. It's the first day of training tomorrow. I want to be well-rested."

He nods. "Yes, you're right," he says gruffly, and when he doesn't continue, I turn and start walking away. However, when I reach the door, he calls out to me.

I pause, looking over my back. "What?"

He looks like he doesn't want to continue, and I raise my eyebrows at him. He doesn't drop his gaze or sigh, but he stares right back at me with a hard expression. "Cato, what are you going to do?" he asks me with a cold voice.

"About what?" I spit at him, but I think I know where this is going.

"About that," he retorts back at me, swooping his arm over to the opposite room, where Clove and her mentor, Enobaria, are working with their techniques.

I stifle a wince, my body going stiff. Clove. I've tried very hard to forget about her for the past few days since the reaping. But it just doesn't happen, you know? She's been my companion for so long. And we've even had pre-Games training sessions together back in District 2. No, I wouldn't say we were friends. But still, I've liked her every since I first met her two years ago. She doesn't know, of course. With the both of us training aggressively to volunteer for the Games, a fancy for someone who could possibly be your opponent in a fight for your life was not something you went around telling everyone.

I get a hold of myself and scowl at Brutus. "That's nothing," I snarl at him. Who is he to think of me so lowly? To think of me as a person who would give themselves away to their emotions? Even though it is true that I would somehow be willing to save Clove, given the chance, I refuse to be acknowledged as a weakling. We'll save all of that for the other tributes.

"You think you can get away with it, Cato?" Brutus barks at me. "You think you can actually take her home with you? That they'll allow her to be some kind of trophy for you? Because they won't, Cato. They won't. So get rid of your emotions, and get rid of her. This is the only way you're surviving."

"I know that," I mutter and spin on my heels, ready to stomp back into my room. But Brutus isn't done, because he clasps my shoulder and whirls me to face him again.

His eyes are burning through mine. They are intense. Filled with some emotion that I just can't place. But I know that his eyes look murderous somehow. "Cato, do you know who you are?" he says through gritted teeth.

"The victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games," I growl, throwing his hand aside.

He nods satisfactorily. "Good. Then you know what you must do," he says, and with that, he strides away to his room. I scowl and turn for my own room, too. When I get there, I slam my door and bolt the locks. Once inside and on my own, I reach into my pocket and pull out a tiny diamond. And with it comes a memory.

It was a day like any other. I was working, again, at the diamond mines. My hands were working at a steady beat. I pulled my sword back and beat it against the mine walls. Many people found it amusing that I would use my sword instead of a picket to find diamond traces, but really, I liked working with it more. For one, it had given me some kind of reassurance that perhaps I wasn't exactly wasting time here. That somehow, I was preparing for that mighty day when I would volunteer for the Hunger Games. Okay, so I didn't really achieve much in terms of diamonds, but I gained a lot of experience with the sword. Anyway, I didn't exactly care what people had to say about my choice of tools. But it still annoyed me when they poked fun at it.

"That's a peculiar tool," a voice said.

I scowled, turning to face the speaker as I let my sword dangle over my shoulder. I swiped the sweat off of my forehead with the back of my hand and prepared a really witty comeback to whoever dared poke fun at the sword.

But my voice was gone when I saw her. Blonde hair pulled back into a mess of a ponytail. Bright green eyes. Clothes caked with dirt. Yet she looked absolutely perfect.

"Well, I... I mean, you.. it," I stuttered, and decided to just put up my hostile mask. "Who are you anyway?" I almost snarled.

The girl didn't look fazed at all. "Clove Kettler," she said, sticking her hand out for me to shake. I just stared at it blankly for a while, but eventually I sighed and gave in. I shook her hand and gave her my name.

"Well, Cato," she continued. "If you want to mine any diamonds with that weapon of yours, you should try stabbing with it." When she saw that I wasn't catching on, she held out her hand, asking for my sword. Tentatively, I lent it to her and watched as she thrust it right into the dirt with a groan. Right as the blade of the sword hit the wall, we both heard a crack and Clove let out a satisfied smile. She twisted the sword around to make a bigger hole in the wall for a while until she eventually pulled it out.

Stuck to the end of the blade of the sword was a tiny diamond. I marveled at it. Clove plucked it out of the blade and took my hand, placing the diamond on my palm. "Get busy," she said smugly, nodding toward the hole in the wall where she had acquired the tiny diamond. And with that, she hopped off.

I watched her as she walked away so gracefully, and I actually smiled. I toyed with the tiny diamond in my hand for a while, and then very carefully, I wrapped a handkerchief around it and placed it in my pocket.

I stomp across my room to the large window that's stationed there. Struggling with the bolts for a while, I finally get the window open and I roll the glass away. Then, very carefully, I hold my hand out over the window. Without another doubt, I open my closed fist, releasing the precious diamond into the cold night Capitol air. As I close the window and turn back to my bed, mine and Brutus's voice rings in my head. "Cato, do you know who you are?" "The victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games." "Good. Then you know what you must do."

Yes, I know who I am and what I must do. And what I must do is kill.

AN: Reviews are my fuel! Fill me up.