Clove watched as Candice, the escort, put her hand into the girl's bowl. Clove didn't know what she wanted. She was torn.

"Clove Sevina." Candice's voice sung through the square. Clove walked up and took her place. She looked for Cato, wanting to catch his attention and to tell him not to volunteer, she could win. But she couldn't find him.

Cato was shocked, he stood still, waiting for someone to volunteer. Only a hush falls over the crowd.

"You lowlife bastards"' Cato muttered under his breath and waited for the boys name to be called.

Clove once again felt guilty for what she had done. Maybe Cato could have won. He was almost certainly the best trained. Now one of them would have to die. They could never have the life they dreamed of, because of her. Now it was only a matter of time before Cato volunteered and sealed their fate.

As soon as the tributes name was called Cato volunteered, lunging forward and marching up the steps and standing stiffly beside Clove.

Clove hung her head in shame. When Candice told them to shake hands, she turned reluctantly, not feeling worthy of Cato's love.

Surly he would find out now.

* * *

Cato glared at her slightly, without shaking her hand walked into the Justice Building himself.

Clove felt shame. More than anything in the world she felt shame. The one she loved had trusted her. And she had deceived him. Not that it mattered of course, death was inevitable for at least one of them now.

Cato said goodbye to his parents, though they didn't talk much at all. His parents knew what he was willing to do.

Clove watched as Cato left. She was guided into a room where she would say her goodbyes. She was given one hour of goodbyes. No-one came. Clove wasn't expecting anyone, no-one loved her. She knew that was all she deserved.

When Cato had finished, he was guided out of the room. His face blank of any emotions, he felt angry at Clove. She had done something to make her name drawn.

Clove was guided into a car to take her to the train. Candice was in between her and Cato; so they didn't talk. Clove didn't know what she would tell Cato when he asked. If he asked. She knew in his place, she would never want to see herself again. She had betrayed the one person who loved her. Clove briefly thought that it was good that she was speedily heading towards her death.

* * *

Cato sat silently, tapping his fingers along the window gently. Watching as part of his district twiddled past.

Soon the car came to a stop and Clove got out, where she was guided to a train, followed by Cato. After being given brief directions around, she went to her room and cried. She didn't care if people saw. She was dead anyway.

Cato was sitting on his bed, running a hand through his blonde hair. Regretting ignoring Clove, he was dead inside. Soon he begun to get arrogant, more selfish and snarky.

Clove didn't go to dinner. But before she went to sleep, she went off to find Cato's room. She had to tell him. Let him know the truth. Get it out of her. She was prepared for Cato to hate her, but she couldn't hold it in longer. The guilt was killing her. She reached his room and knocked lightly on the door.

"What?" Cato snarled, laying on his bed shirtless. Just wearing a pair of clean jeans, his hair damp from the shower.

Clove opened the door and walked into his room. She was quite disoriented for a few seconds, seeing Cato's perfect abs exposed like that. He had taken a shower. She was still in her reaping dress, a sleeveless baby-doll cut thing that ended at the knees and was made of fine material, but it was still wet from her tears. She took a few seconds to remember why she was here, and then began to speak.

"I'm sorry." She started.

Cato looked at her, he wanted to forgive Clove, hug her tightly and say that he was sorry. But he held back.