Heart of a girl.
The waiting is over My faith was broken
There's a break in the weather
And I will build my house again
But it wasn't for nothing
And I will learn to walk again..
64th Hunger Games ended after that only, thunderous, inescapable boom of cannon. Actually, there were still eight tributes in the arena, but District 12's fight was over when the boy from 1's jagged blade pierced the girl's throat, ripping it up and leaving her drowning in her own blood, with a guttural, cavernous death rattle. The silence lowered down in the living room of the penthouse, interrupted only by Ceasar Flickerman's and Claudius Templesmith's chattering, while continuing undismayed their report and spending few words on the last District 12's tribute's death. Haymitch sighed loudly, shaking his head and running wearily his hand over his eyes.
That were his fourteenth year as a mentor, and since fourteen years he cautioned his tributes in the same way. Avoid the starting bloodbath he told them about a million times, before entering the arena. They nodded, they said they had understood. Don't light a fire, smoke'd reveal your position..that was his first advice. And despite all those advices, what did prevent the boy from running a breakneck speed toward the Cornucopia, just a few seconds after the gong, trying to reach a sword? And the girl from setting fire to some dry branches, trying to heat up her own body? Nothing. And here the result: two deaths within four days.
Haymitch got up from the sofa going towards the refreshments' trolley. He grabbed a bottle without paying attention to what it contained. At the moment he'd liked everything enough strong that could dull his senses, that could erase the view of the child's blood in his mind. It streamed down her throat, dirtying her clothes. Rapidly, but not enough: there was the awareness of what would happen in her dying eyes. She didn't die immediately. She tried to reach some oxygen but her trachea was sheared, and she survived few minutes groping in her own blood. Haymitch noticed his hands were shuddering as he poured the amber-colored liquid into the glass. He'd like feeling nothing. He knew they both had to die soon but the sight of their corpses carried away by hovercrafts..that was something devastating. Every time, every year.
Haymitch glanced at Effie as she was watching the show sitting next to him. She was still there, in the same position, her legs crossed and her arms laying along her hips. At first gaze, the blonde girl looked like nothing happened, but for her horrified expression and the vacant look in her eyes. Haymitch notices she was shacking, her eyes still glued to the screen, staring at a point she only could see. Her breath fractured in a million blows and gasps and she looked like in a grip of an asthma attack. She got up sharply, spilling on the carpet the milkshake she was drinking. Faltering, she went towards the door, before starting running and reaching her own room.
Haymitch wasn't surprised by her behaviour. Actually he was expecting that. Those were her first time as an escort and, despite she grew up – like every respectable capitol child – enjoying the Hunger Games, the sight of the the cruel death of two children she could know and she supported was really overpowering. Especially to a twenty-years-old girl. Haymitch put down his empty glass onto the crystal table near the tv and followed her. He found her in the bathroom, lying on the floor. She was vomiting. Haymitch lied down next to her, bearing her forehead, waiting the ending of her attack. Then, he helped her setting on her own foot.
"Are you ok, sweetheart?" he murmured, looking at her while she was washing her mouth.
Effie nodded but Haymitch noticed she was avoiding his eyes. Maybe she felt embarrassed to be seen in that state by him. She was turning her back to him but Haymitch could glimpse her face reflected by the mirror over the sink. She was really pale, her lips trembling and, even though her eyes were quite hidden by her blonde bangs, it was obvious she was crying silently. Her long, wearing-down hair didn't cache her rising-and-lowering shoulders, shaken by mute and stifled sobs.
Haymitch nodded himself, he didn't want to talk. So, he moved back and left her alone.
Time won't wait
Plans they come
Scattered by the wind..
Midnight had passed and Haymitch didn't remember how much time he spent in that bar. That night Chaff visited him, just an hour after his female tribute's death. "I'm sorry" he said. Haymitch shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head as he was saying "I knew it would happen". Chaff stared at him, his dark and sad eyes of who was resigned since years. District 11's tributes both died during the very first day, and nor Haymitch, nor Chaff were still mentors that night. They were listless men, swept away by the fate along the lightened streets of the Capitol, from one bar to another, from a whiskey to a vodka. The bar they find themselves in was glaring. The floor and sofas were black, furniture was brightly white but painted of purple and pink by the light of weird abat-jours hanging in the air over their heads. People were everywhere, clumped in every gap, standing by the counter or by the walls, sitting onto the soft armchairs. Weirdest colors were from the pink, yellow, purple, green, blue, red cocktails everyone was holding. Chattering was deafening, loud music perforating eardrums. And, inevitable, projected over the busy waiters' back, the arena in the moonlight. Writings under the screen were keeping the costumers up the news from the games. Fallen's names were listed by one side. Haymitch noticed his two tributes' and turned away from the screen.
"Can we go away?" Haymitch shouted in Chaff's ear. That bar was really too much crowded and he felt suffocated. As his friend nodded Haymitch turned himself, looking for the way out. He almost reached it when Chaff grabbed him with his only hand left.
"She's yours, isn't she?" Chaff asked him, indicating someone at his back, with a amused smile on his face.
Haymitch looked hard, trying to follow Chaff's finger's path. Then, he saw her. Effie. Leaning on the counter, sipping a shocking-pink drink. And a fourty-years-old man by her side, brightening in his purple suit, his hand playing with one of her blonde locks, his eyes staring at her in an undeniable way. Haymitch didn't notice himself was going back until he was by Effie's side, when the man was passing her the – Haymitch counted quickly – fourth drink. Effie was shining. Her elaborate dress attracted and reflected all the light in the room that sparkled on her body, pouring down along her shoulders, reaching her chest, loosing itself in her skirt's folds. Her hair was falling down her back in soft waves, so blonde that looked like silver-made in the light of those weird lamps. She didn't care of what she was drinking: she kept on laughing in her jingling voice, trying not to fall down because of her high heels. The man put himself closer, his hand slipping on her waist, trying to hug her. Effie didn't notice: she was biking absent-mindedly a big strawberry pierced into her cocktail stick. Man's gaze was now disgusting in its lust.
"C'mon Effie, you'd drank enough" Haymitch said abruptly, behind her.
Effie turned around confused, not even noticing that the hand, touching her until a few moments before, was promptly withdrawn by the owner and now stood several feet from her. After staring at him for a few seconds she recognized him bursting into a giggle. She was definitely drunk. Haymitch sighed, grabbing her arm and running it around his shoulders, not too sure that she was able to walk independently. Ignoring her protests, dragged her out of the room.
"What..the fuck..'r you doing?" She gasped, clutching at him.
"I'm carrying you back home" Haymitch said curtly, continuing to walk. Chaff had vanished, probably landed in some other bars in the area, once understood he could no longer keep him company.
"I was ha-ving fuun .. wanna go back inside," she replied, printing a determined expression on her face and refusing to walk.
Haymitch did not even reply, dragged her to a taxi and gave the driver the address of the penthouse. Moments later they were speeding through the illuminated streets of the Capitol.
Here I am
And the day will come
when I find my rest again..
Only when they reached the penthouse Haymitch let Effie go. He had had to take her up because she couldn't walk alone . She was keeping laughing and repeating to bring her back to the bar.
"So, this is the way you deal with it , sweetheart?" Haymitch growled, holding her by the arms to keep her from falling and shaking her at the same time "Get drunk and get fucked by strangers?"
"What about yourself, huh?" she retorted , grinning and nodding at the half-empty bottle that Haymitch had forgotten on the table a few hours before .
"Exactly, I'm enough" he said angrily "I do not want to be your babysitter for the next twenty years , okay?"
Evidently Effie found that phrase quite amusing , because she laughed a bit stronger.
"Why not? Would you be a beautifuuuul babysitter.." she said, coming dangerously close to him. Haymitch was struck by her intense aroma, which flooded his nostrils, leaving him slightly dazed. He grabbed her wrists , holding them at arm's length, shaking his head.
"Come on, I'll take you to your room ," he said , realizing that it would be quite useless to talk to her in that state. His head began to turn and the glasses he drank were more than he would have liked at that time.
He reached Effie's bedroom groping , not daring to turn on the light, imagining it would be detrimental to their eyes. He found the handle and entered, holding the girl and taking her to the bed .
It was pitch dark and Haymitch reluctantly had to turn on the small lamp next to the bed, which gave off just enough light to distinguish objects . Effie was really in bad conditions. Evidently she couldn't handle alcohol, perhaps because twenty-years-old were still too few to deal with the powerful cocktail of the Capitol. The girl kept laughing, lying on her back on top of the sheets, staring at him from under her bangs that fell over her eyes constantly . Haymitch, sitting next to her, looked into her eyes and realized that there was something strange.
" You have dilated pupils" he muttered. Effie burst out laughing again, sliding her gaze on the nightstand. Haymitch reached out and grabbed a small box full of colorful pills. It didn't take a couple of seconds to recognize them.
"How many did you take?" he whispered, forcing her to look at him.
Effie laughed, raising the index finger of her right hand .
"Only one? Effie! Only one? "
The girl nodded.
"Hey they're mine! " she protested, noticing that Haymitch had put the box into the pocket of his jeans.
"No, not anymore, sweetheart. I do not know how you're accustomed in the Capitol but this stuff is bad for you too" he ruled getting up.
Effie's right hand tightened around his wrist.
"You should give me something in return, shouldn't you? " she whispered hoarsely.
"I think you should sleep" he replied, shaking his head.
In response Effie leaned over and clutched at his back, reaching his lips and kissing them slowly. Haymitch was again invested by her scent, which was strong and incredibly sweet at the same time. He lost his balance and found himself on top of her, who continued to assault his lips with little kisses, running her tongue over them. Effie tasted of strawberry, vodka, rum, licorice, mint, a mix that did nothing but stun him more and more. Haymitch felt his cheeks on fire, while his body required him to respond to the kiss with transportation, moving his hands in those shiny blond hair, let them wander on her slender body shuddering beneath him. He put his hand on Effie's cheek. It was really hot. Haymitch appealed to all his self-control to be able to get away from her.
" You have a fever" he muttered , standing up.
Effie remained motionless for a few moments then rose abruptly and stood up, facing him .
"Why don't you want me? " she yelled at him, with tears in her eyes (Haymitch would not have been able to tell if it was more for the high temperature, for drugs, for alcohol or for arousal) "I'm not pretty enough for you?"
Haymitch stared at her swaying toward him as if she were walking on a wire suspended in the air.
"You're too pretty for me, sweetheart" he answered , with a sad smile.
"So what? " she urged, her eyebrows furrowed. She took another step toward him. She stumbled and Haymitch just had time to grab her before she fell.
"So you're drunk, drugged, shocked and feverish. If I'd listen to you we'll sleep together, you'll wake up in the morning, you'd realize what we would have done and you would hate me because I didn't prevent you. And believe me, it's the last thing I want" he whispered in her hair. Picked her up and deposited her on the bed, covering her as best .
"Sleep, Effie .. " he murmured.
He went into the bathroom, turned on the sink and threw cold water in his own face. When he came back to her, he found her already asleep, with her mouth half open and a blond tuft covering her closed eyes. Pulled it off gently, careful not to wake her up, and stared sadly at her.
" You will learn to bear this burden, sweetheart."
You showed me the heart of a girl.