So this is basically my one-shot Perfect, but from Clove's POV. So you might want to read that, too (shameless self-insert). Enjoy!
Disclaimer: If I owned the Hunger Games, Buttercup would've killed President Snow and leaded the rebellion.
I hate blondes. All of them must die. Especially giggly, ditzy blondes who like to run their hands over their equally dim-witted fair-haired hormone-fueled counterparts.
"Cato!" Marvel and I both look up as Glimmer lets out a squeal as Cato laughs. She's twirling one of those stupid braids around her skinny little finger and poking out her bottom lip in a way that suggests that this program is about to get not so family friendly. Disgusting. But evidently Cato doesn't agree, considering he is now leaning in close to her, whispering something that makes her blush and playfully hit his arm. Marvel lets out a sniff, not that either of them notice. It seems I'm the only one that's noticed the googly eyes he's been making at Glimmer from the start, sighing pathetically every time she and Cato do something remotely "flirty". Which is every five seconds.
I think back to the Careers from past years. None of them were longing after skanky blondes who were too busy trying to work their way to sticking their tongues down some admittedly handsome but infuriating tribute's throat. No, they were out hunting and killing, the Games theirs for the taking.
"Katnisssss," did I forget to mention? Lover Boy talks in his sleep. My hand twitches dangerously on my knife. I can easily imagine slitting all their thoats: pathetic Lover Boy's, whiny Marvel's, annoying Glimmer's, traitorous Ca-no. No. Despite the fact that it'll have to happen eventually, I can not imagine slitting Cato's throat. I've known him since I was a child, training together, going to his house. I know his sister who utterly adores me for God's sake, how could I come home and look in her eyes knowing I've killed her brother? But the thoughts quickly getting more and more appealing with each second he spends with his arm around Glimmer.
Who does she think she is anyway? The Hunger Games is about survival. The Hunger Games is about who can think, who can run, who can kill. You can't whore your way to a win. Well, you might could. Most of the Gamemakers are male.
"Cattoooo!" she shrieks, as Marvel gives a loud sigh. Oh, for the love of all that is deadly, when did this become a contest to see who can be the most love struck teenager? Am I the only one in this forsaken Arena that still remembers that this is killing contest? Lover Boy gives another sigh of longing for his star-crossed counterpart as she giggles again. I grimace and grip my knife as I try to sleep.
"HELP ME!" I wake up to screaming and...buzzing? Where's Marvel? And Lover Boy? Why is Fire Girl not in the tree anymore? Where's Cato and-my jaw drops as I see what used to be Glimmer, thrashing around on the ground and screaming. Tracker Jackers are covering every inch of her flesh, her previously pretty features now bloated and grotesque. I am immediately scowling, she was my kill. I was going to make her scream as I cut swirls into her white skin and watched her blood run through my fingers. But that thought pushes it's way to the back of my mind as I realize I'm fixing to meet the same fate. I have sat her for a few precious seconds too long, and now they're coming for me. They're coming for me and for some reason I can't stand, my legs won't move, and I will not die beside this bimbo still screaming for Cato (who's not coming back, he's saving his own skin), I will win! I am strong! But my legs are not working, and I am frozen as they start to swarm-
"CLOVE!" something roughly grabs my arm and wrenches me to my feet. A hand rough, calloused, and familiar. Cato. I am almost disappointed I can't see Glimmer's expression through the bloating and the bugs as he drags me off, his hand still firmly on my arm. He came back. Cato came back for me, not that blonde slut. And even as my vision is blurred with blue shapes that I know aren't really there and I drop to the ground, Cato still yelling my name before he stumbles down beside me, I can't help the smirk twisting onto my lips. He came back for me. It'll almost be tragic when I have to put a knife in his heart. Almost.