She was not a villain. At least she didn't mean to be.

It's not her fault she likes the sight of blood pouring from a wound like crimson paint spreading across a clean, white canvas.

She has always known she was a killer- Killer not a murderer. There is a difference. At least in her mind there is a difference. She was forced to kill. Murder is an option. Killing is not.

She had to admit she liked it. The feel of the knife in her hand. The satisfaction of the knife lodging itself in the target. The rush is addictive. She likes feeling powerful. Knowing that she could end a life or save one. Usually the former.

She loved no one.

Love was a weakness and she was not weak.

But against her better judgement she did fall in love. It's not like she meant to. She knew it was wrong and against the rules. But they had never followed rules. And they weren't about to start.

She never cried.

She was a career.

And careers don't cry.

He was a born killer. Like her, he liked it. He hadn't known any different. Neither of them had. He was bloodthirsty.

He was vicious. But was not a villain or evil. Sadistic yes, heartless yes But not evil. Never


Like her he hadn't meant to fall in love. But what could he do?

He was ruthless. She was cold.

They were both killers and didn't know the meaning of the word kindness or love. Neither of them loved anyone.

Anyone but each other.

She was Clove the girl with the knives. The girl who never missed .The ice queen.

He was Cato the boy with the sword. The boy who could kill you with a twist of his hands.

Together they were unbeatable. Together they were the tributes from district 2.