DISCLAIMER: I do not own any right to any characters or references associated to THE HUNGER GAMES TRILOGY.

RATED M for language, violence- human and animal, abuse, and sexual content in later chapters.

AN: I am fully aware that during the 74th Hunger Games Clove is 15 and Cato is 16. However I will be following the movies age and not books age of the characters, making Clove 15 and Cato 18.

The untold story of District 2

A Cato and Clove story:

"Clove!" no no no... shit no...

Before I even reach her, I could tell that the black kid of District 11 really did a number on her. All I could think of were her screams for me just seconds ago. Fuck no no no I scream in my head as I drop to my knees before her limp body. I grab her hand with my left and begin shaking her by the shoulder with my right.

"Don't leave me Clove, Don't leave me!" I say pleading to her dead body.

"Clove!" I begin to scream her name over and over, letting the tears fall on her face, mixing with her blood, and causing them to drip down her face.

I lean forward resting my forehead to hers, not even caring if all of Panem was seeing me weak on television. I continued to caress her face, expecting her to stir, to cough, anything... anything that said she was still alive. This wasn't right, she wasn't supposed to die. None of this was supposed to happen. She and I were going to win this together, we were going to make it out together. But she just had to try and kill Katniss to ensure we were the only pair left. Why couldn't I have stayed awake, if only I hadn't drifted off, if only she had woken me up like I had told her, she would have still been alive.

"Damn it Clove why didn't you listen!? You should have waited! You should have fucking waited!" I scream at her dead body, anger rising. I look around and find that District 11 and that bitch Katniss have already fled. I punch the side of the cornucopia hard, not even making the slightest dent on it. I could feel my knuckles quickly swelling and bruising, the smell of not only Cloves blood, but mine as well consuming me. I give one last kiss to Clove just before closing her eyes for her. I grab the knife close to Clove that she was trying to use on Katiniss I quickly cut a small bunch of Cloves hair kiss it and store it away in the small pocket of my suit. Standing up I make my way towards the direction I know District 11 ran to. I was going to win this damn game, not for my District or for myself anymore, but or Clove.

It wasn't love at first sight, for either of us. And it took some time for either of us to even warm up to each other. And once we had we never thought we would both wind up in the arena together...

As I run faster towards District 11 I remember the first time I saw her back home. The annoying little brat with the loose braids I saw at the market the first time seven years ago...

"Go ahead son pick the one you like." I looked at my father then at the weapons wondering what the catch was. He usually allowed me to practice with the ones he and my mother had, but never did I have anything to claim for myself.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked him as he squatted so he could be at my eye level

"Cato now that your eleven, you only have one more year before your name is entered into the reaping. I know you have been training with me and your mother since you were small. But we have managed to get you a spot to train with Brutus, a former Games champion. Its very hard to get a spot with him. But I know your a champion son, you were born to compete and I know you will some day become the next District 2 winner. As a gift for making it into his exclusive list of pupils, your mother and I have decided to buy you your own weapon.. now son pick something."

"But dad I don't want to go to the games, I don't want to die..."

I fell to the ground not even allowed to finish my sentence, after getting a full blow of my father fist to my face.

"You little faggot, I did not raise a son to be afraid of anything. Your mother and I would have done anything to have gone, we are going to manage to get you to the top spots of the volunteer list. If I would have had that chance I would have given anything, ANYTHING to have gone! Now stop crying and pick something!"

He grabbed a handful of money and threw it at me on the floor, storming away from the merchants table.

No one even came to help me up. No one even re acted when they saw him strike me, not even on this busy Saturday afternoon. I collected the money from the floor, reaching over to pick up one of the larger bills, when I saw a small girl no older then nine grab it. She was small, slender, with dark hair, and loose braids at her sides framing around her freckled face.

"Hey! that mine, give it here." I say to her.

She looks at the money then at me shaking her head.

"Finders keepers." She says waving it at me before tucking it into the inside of her shirt.

I stood up and walked closer to her, expecting her to run away or back away at least. But nothing she just stood there looking up at me.

I stretched my hand out, my mouth throbbing from my fathers blow.

"Give me my money." I demand to her.

"No." she says sternly. I looked around to see if her parents may be around but no one seemed to be keeping a close eye on her.

"Look little girl my father gave it to me now give it back." I say losing my patience.

"No." she repeats sticking her tongue out at me.

"I said give it back." I dived in about to reach into her shirt to grab the money when I felt a sharp pain on my hand.

I looked down at it and screamed as I realized what had just happened. It was all to quick, the small girl had picked up one of the daggers on the table and had stabbed me with the dagger. With a strength so un believable for her age, the blade had penetrated from one side of my hand to the other.

I dropped to my knees screaming as the blood began to seep through. The pain shooting spasms throughout my body.

"Clove!" I could hear someone scream. Through the merchants and the crowd forming around me I managed to see the little girl getting carried away by a man.

Her father I assumed, she had somehow managed to grab another dagger, waving goodbye to me with it, a teeth baring grin on her face as she was carried away.

"HEY! YOU NEED TO PAY FOR THAT!" said the merchant after them.

It took a four hour operation at the hospital to get the blade out without causing any permanent nerve damage. My father not allowing the doctors to give me any morphling and to be awake during the whole procedure. When I felt on the verge of fainting of the constant pain he would make sure I would be brought back. Telling me to man up, that I should be ashamed that a little girl had done this to me.

"How will you ever expect to win the games when you can't even beat a nine year old!?" he spat at me back at home.

"Who was she?" my mother asked impressed, she traced the blade of the dagger the little girl had stabbed me with.

Hello? Did either of them even see I was in pain? That I felt as if I was on fire from the fever I was getting. Sometimes I felt like they only reason they even had me was because they wanted to just mold me into something they had wanted to be, to compete in the games, I bet if I did go they would only grieve my death not because they loved me, but because their dream would be gone.

"Will he still be able to use his hand?" my mother asked, setting the dagger by my bed side and picking up Pookie, her beloved white cat. The cat she loved and played with more then me... who was I kidding she never even played with me. Pookie jumped from her hands to my bed, digging its claws into my thigh, I hated Pookie, I was jealous of the attention and affection he often got.

I could vaguely hear my father telling my mother he hadn't actually seen the little girl but that the people at the market had told him about what happened, and that I would still be able to use it.

As rage began to build and Pookie continued to claw at me, I remember grabbing the blade from the side of my stand and driving it into the cats neck, over and over until I heard my mother screaming for my father to stop me. But I didn't stop, not even after they pulled the cats body slashed body away from my reach. I slashed at the bed before finally throwing the dagger past my parents and digging into the wall.

They both turned to me, open mouthed, my mother still holding Pookies body. I could feel myself heavily breathing a smile of satisfaction creeping on my blood stained face from the stupid cat.

You would think what followed after the cats demise was punishment. I sure ass hell did. But when my father began to laugh and ruffle my hair in pride all I could really do was push my way past them.

"Thats my boy! Thats my boy! A natural!"

As I slammed my bathrooms door shut I could hear my mothers sobs for her beloved feline.

"You monster!" I heard my mother try to pry the door open. I walked over to the shower turning it on cold, getting in with my clothes. Was she serious? THIS made me a monster? What difference would it be if I go into the arena? I mean sure the stupid cat suffered but tributes scream and suffer agony on live television. Their family and friends would see their gruesome fate. They would mourn a loved one. My mother would eventually get over the cat... just like she would me. Really as I said before, my parents would only grieve the loss of their fame not their son. I wasn't a product of my parents love, I was born to be raised to be a trophy. They wanted to see a monster, I'll show them how much of a monster I can be.

"God damn it Cato! Again?" My mother looked down at yet another one of her cats, or at least what I had left in tact, scattered around the kitchen floor.

In the year between my first kill, I had already slaughtered exactly twenty three cats- five of them being my mothers. Three goats, three sheep, and plenty of stray dogs. My father was the one who brought the first three kills for me, by the time I had killed them the rest were a breeze. I often picked at the remains, fascinated at how different each animals organs were according to their size and age. And I wondered if this would be any different for humans. After all tributes who competed ranged from twelve to eighteen.

"I was bored." I said as if it couldn't be anymore obvious.

"So you had to kill snowball?" she asked. As I got up picking up the knife, I stepped over the remains. I noticed her tense and I made my way towards her. I knew she was afraid of me, making me grin. I placed the knife into the sink as I heard my mother sigh in relief. My father walked in through the door back from work, I could hear his gasp as the scene he had just walked into.

"Couldn't wait another second aye son? Your going to be great! I just know it. Let me change out this and Ill drive you over to Brutus house for your first lesson." I could hear the joy in his voice.


AN: I have more chapters done already I just wanted to have this started already. My take of how violent Cato is here is to show why Cato became the way he is. What molded him into becoming the way we were presented to him in the books.