“Oh, give it a rest, all of you,” Clove spits out. “I’m the bad girl. You knew I was the bad girl when you sent me presents, so don’t cry when you get what you want.” She pulls the fake knife from her hair and runs it over her lips and paints an insane smile on her face and drinks their disappointment into her lungs and promises Cato that she’ll keep hurting them for as long as she can. [...]
Cato kneels with Clove, spear in hand, begging to stay with him. He will soon realize that it's hopeless, that nothing can save her. "
