AN: Hi Everyone! How is everyone enjoying their summer? I hope all of you are having some awesome adventures. Anyway I happen to be watching the Hunger Games when I suddenly thought that maybe Peeta and Katniss wouldn't be the only ones with a love story…that maybe Effie and Haymitch had one. I don't know where I'm going to go with this but we'll see how this story plays out. I hope all of you like and enjoy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing at all.
50th Hunger Games.
Effie's POV
I sit on the satin cover sofa with my feet dangling gracefully in front of me. My green eyes train on the flashing screen. It's that time of year again. Where twelve districts enter the arena and play the game of staying alive. Each year that comes by my heart goes out to all those souls that are forced into the games. The children that stand stoic in front of the camera, looking and acting more mature than anyone I know here in the capital. I have learn the hard way not to question where the glory comes in taking a human life.
My parents say that at twelve there still so much I need to learn. But I wonder if that is their mantra on handling what our government proclaims to be justice. Yet, like clockwork, I sit in between my parents and watch the reaping. It's a hard process to watch but still like a good Capital citizen I sit and bear it. When finally the escort for District twelve came onto the screen and began her long speech. My eyes scan the crowd and I couldn't help the tears that spring into my eyes as I watched fear overtake the could be tributes as soon as the escort step forward and pick up a name. But it was then that I saw a teenage boy step onto the stage and stared at the crowd. His blond hair was tied back into a neat ponytail and his outfit look freshly clean and ironed. His dark brown eyes were cold as he look toward the crowd and inhale deeply.
My heart suddenly clenched as I stared at him as he stood as still as a tall oak tree. I couldn't explain why my belly did a sudden flip flop or why the idea of seeing him lose the hunger game made it suddenly hard to swallow. But I pushed away those ideas and watched another male come to stand beside him and moments later a girl take his other side. On their faces I could already see the fear and dread of what was to come.
In the following days I watched the games with such vigor that I was borderline obsessed. Every time I saw Haymitch Abernathy, as I came to know his name, my heart leap and I took a sigh of relief. He was still alive and hanging on. When people began to bet on who would become victor. I betted on him that he would become the next victor. My friends look at me as if I lose my mind but something in me knew that he was strong, smart, and courage enough to do what he needed to do to stay alive. I admire that in him. My young heart knew that I was right and at the end of the day it would be his handsome face that I would see on the screen.
In the days that followed I cried with Haymitch as he held the hand of one of his fellow partners. The look of sadness that overtook his face made me want to somehow reached into the screen and hug him close to me. A sad part me was glad that it wasn't him that laid on the grounding dieing. I knew it was wrong but I couldn't help myself. My mother found my unyielding rooting for Haymitch amusing and said that I develop a crush on District 12 tribute. I had blushed horribly red and walk away before she could continue to laugh at my expense.
Finally we reached the end of the games and it was him against a District one tribute. I sat on the cream carpet with my feet tuck neatly under me with my eyes wide an tugging unconsciously on my braided hair. I closed my eyes when I saw the axe cut him, and he still found the strength to run. His hand was sprawled over his stomach as blood spilled over his hands. My eyes filled with tears but I inhale as the axe came toward him. Then Haymitch dodge and the axe bounce the force field and headed straight for District one tribute. When the camera zoom on Haymitch face I let out a breathe of relief, he had won. He had won like I knew he would.
I cheered and cried not because he won but because he survived. As the camera zoom closer to his face and I drank in his tired dark grey eyes I promise myself that one day I would meet the boy that stole my heart just for having the will to survive.
