Drunk in Loss
"Haymitch!" Effie called impatiently in a much harsher tone than her usual sing-song voice. "Haymitch Abernathy! Get out of bed right now!"
The sound of the Capitol woman's voice caused a throbbing pain in his head. Maybe if I just ignore her, she'll go away, he thought. He closed his eyes and tried desperately to return to sleep, but every time he began slowly drifting off, he found himself pulled back to reality by the squawking of his name, with several creative threats on the side. Eventually, he gave in, dragged himself out of bed, pulled on a dressing gown, and wandered sluggishly to the door.
The bright colours of Effie's attire only aggravated his headache. She donned a lilac peplum dress, patterned with small flowers, with golden gloves to match the floppy, oversized bow stuck to her wig. "What took you so long?" she asked sternly.
Haymitch leaned against the door-fame, holding his head in an attempt to stop the pulsing pain. "Is there an emergency?"
Effie glared at him disapprovingly. "Apart from your dreadful appearance, no. I woke you because there are important matters I'd like to discuss with you, mostly regarding your behaviour."
"Step into my office," Haymitch drawled with a laugh, gesturing to his bedroom.
Effie screwed up her face in disgust. "I'd rather not."
Haymitch shrugged. "Suit yourself, sweetheart." He began to close the door, but Effie quickly shoved her way.
"I want you to listen to what I have to say, Haymitch," she said, walking over to where he sat on the edge of his bed.
"It would be easier if your clothes weren't so loud," he responded dryly.
Effie rolled her eyes. "How hard is it to take things seriously? Every year you are the same, Haymitch!" she shouted. "You are constantly intoxicated or hungover, you have a terrible attitude, and you completely lack appropriate public behaviour and etiquette! This is why District 12 never wins!"
A silence engulfed the room. Haymitch stared at the ground. Effie's words had cut deeply, through all the alcohol-induced haze, and struck the part of him he constantly tried subdue. He stood up and walked over to the window. He watched the world go by outside the train, the way he often watched the world go by outside his mansion at the Victors' Village in District 12. Everything passed in a nonsensical blur. The ache in his head intensified as he attempted to focus on the scenery. Unwanted thoughts and memories flooded into his mind, each wave crashing painfully inside his head.
"Haymitch," he heard Effie utter his name, her voice much calmer than before, and with a hint of uncertainty.
"You want to know why I drink so much?" he asked, still staring aimlessly out the window. "When I was reaped from the games, I felt like the most important thing was being taken from me. In District 12, there aren't a whole lot of luxuries. Your life is a luxury." He paused, remembering the moment he heard his name echoed through the courtyard outside the Justice Building. He remembered feeling the eyes of everyone focus on him as he made his way to the stage, his legs shaking with every step he took. "Thanks to my intelligence, I was able to hold on to that luxury of life. But there were consequences, and I don't just mean having to watch every else die. Turns out the Capitol wasn't too pleased with me. They couldn't take my life, so they took the next best thing." He pressed his head against the train window, hoping the vibration would intensify his headache even more, and pain would distract him from the memory of his family. His hands began to shake; his body craved the effects of alcohol. "And now, each year, the Capitol gives me the lives of two kids from District 12, and each year, they take those two kids away from me. So I drink, to dull the pain of loss, and wash away the guilt of numerous deaths I have weighing down on me."
He turned away from the window to face Effie. Tears rolled down her makeup covered cheeks. "It hurts me too, having to watch the kids we get to know die each year. But we have a chance this year, Haymitch," she said, resting her hands on his shoulders. "These two are different. They're strong, brave and determined. We can win this time, I know we can."
Haymitch shook his head in disagreement. "But that's just it, sweetheart. There can only be one winner. Either way, we lose one of them. Either way, we lose. There can only be one winner, and it's President Snow."