The months spent here, the fact that this is all simulation... none of it sticks in Clove's mind. She's as good as in the Arena.
All of Panem is watching. Waiting.
A moment of glory for a tribute, striking the final blow. Proving to District Two that she's strong enough to stand on her own. That she's ruthless enough to be a Victor. It's in her grasp.
And it means nothing.
Clove finds a sudden burst of movement, stripping off her jacket. Part of the lining is already ripped, so she tears it more. It's warm, thick fabric. The insulation to keep them from freezing to death during the increasingly cold nights. She moves forward and quickly as she'd gone back and pushes his shirt up enough to see the wounds, to put the torn fabric over them and press.
Apply pressure to the wound. Stop the bleeding.
Skills taught to be performed on herself, to save her life in the Arena. But they promised. The Capitol promised. If two tributes came from the same District, they could both win. They could both go home. They're supposed to go home together.
Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knows it's not real. There is no more home. Only the wound is real. But she keeps up the pressure even as the tears fall. All of Panem can see her crying as she tries to help undo what she's done.
action:
The months spent here, the fact that this is all simulation... none of it sticks in Clove's mind. She's as good as in the Arena.
All of Panem is watching. Waiting.
A moment of glory for a tribute, striking the final blow. Proving to District Two that she's strong enough to stand on her own. That she's ruthless enough to be a Victor. It's in her grasp.
And it means nothing.
Clove finds a sudden burst of movement, stripping off her jacket. Part of the lining is already ripped, so she tears it more. It's warm, thick fabric. The insulation to keep them from freezing to death during the increasingly cold nights. She moves forward and quickly as she'd gone back and pushes his shirt up enough to see the wounds, to put the torn fabric over them and press.
Apply pressure to the wound. Stop the bleeding.
Skills taught to be performed on herself, to save her life in the Arena. But they promised. The Capitol promised. If two tributes came from the same District, they could both win. They could both go home. They're supposed to go home together.
Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knows it's not real. There is no more home. Only the wound is real. But she keeps up the pressure even as the tears fall. All of Panem can see her crying as she tries to help undo what she's done.
What's worse?
Cato can see her crying.]