It's torture. Pure unadulterated torture. It wasn't quite bad enough that they first send children into an arena to kill each other, but once you escaped you never really survived. If you were lucky you came from a district with multiple victors because that way you weren't forced to send more children to their certain death every year. But that just meant the Capitol would find another way to use you.
The Mentors and every member of each district's team are assigned a main viewing area, a room with one large screen accompanied by some other small ones, and a large C shaped sofa. A circular coffee table sat in the middle of the room, sickeningly finished off with bowls of sweets and other assortments of food and alcohol.
Perched on the edge of the coffee coloured sofa, Effie's gaze flickered between the televisions and Haymitch. It was interesting the way he'd respond to either Katniss or Peeta as the screen focused on one of them; either with another mouthful of liquor or some muttered advice from under his tongue. The games had been quiet since the night before, quiet enough that there were no longer sponsors banging down the door wanting to throw money at 'The Girl on Fire', nor was it particularly necessary to go chasing after them.
A scream suddenly reverberated through the room from every speaker, a high pitched child-like scream that almost caused Effie to topple off the edge of the sofa. The glass of green concoction in Haymitch's hand began to slip as he leaned forward, gaze flickering between all the screens and it certainly took everything in Effie's power not to screech herself at the thought of the liquor spilling all over the white plush carpet.
Before she was able to reprimand Haymitch, the largest television flicked to footage of Katniss; her hair tangled and falling from its braid, dirt and something that looked suspiciously like blood streaking her face. Katniss propels herself through the forest , shouting that young girls name – Rue – and then the camera flicks to one located in a clearing, one of the male tributes standing tall beside a tangled mess quickly coming into focus.
The net by the boy's feet grows larger on the screen as the camera zooms in until the little girls profile fills up the entirety of the space. Her face wet with tears as she screamed for Katniss, and then the view is switched again; a spear plunging down toward the ground, toward Rue, and Katniss' arrow flying directly toward his throat.
A bitter taste floods Haymitch's mouth, a bitterness completely different from that of the alcohol but something burns at the back of his throat and he can't watch, he can't watch this. It couldn't be more perfect if the Capitol had planned it themselves, fed the boy his lines, told him were Rue was, drew them toward Katniss. Because she's too late and he knows that she knows that fact that nothing she can do will bring the little dark velvet-skinned girl back. He doesn't even seem aware as he downs the rest of the glass of alcohol and fumbles for another bottle. Haymitch doesn't have to even turn to look at Effie to know she's giving him daggers when he sloppily pours himself a new glass, allowing the deep orange liquor to splash all over the carpet.
The girl's curled up around the spear impaling her to the forest floor and all Haymitch can see was the birds coloured like cotton candy their sharp beaks diving into flesh. He wouldn't put it past the Capitol to do this on purpose, they had taken everything and he had nobody and it was good, because there was nothing else they could do. They could force him back every year to send these children to their death, train them to kill but know that they were starved and inexperienced and children and they would die. But there was an attachment to this girl with the flames in her eyes and before they killed her they would do everything to bring it all back.
Katniss had hacked the nets away and she was kneeling beside the younger girl, their hands grasped together like a lifeline and that's when Haymitch realises he can't do it. He had promised to help her as best as he could, to stay sober enough to help them if they didn't interfere with his drinking because that was all he had left, the ability to sink into oblivion, but his mouth was dry and bitter and the vomit was threatening to rise into his mouth. He can feel Maysilee's hand warm in his own but she couldn't speak only a gurgling sound rose from her throat the blood seeping from the wounds left by the birds, but then Katniss begins to sing.
It's a song well known in District 12 that even Haymitch recognises from his own childhood, and for a second he wonders if what people said about her father was true. The forest had silenced around them and Katniss' voice floats around the room just as Rue's scream had done. The glass of liquor lay forgotten on the table and Haymitch's fingers grasp for the bottle instead because it was torture. No matter what he did the girl probably had no chance and he wished he'd told her to run to the Cornucopia, to get it over with, at least then she'd die fighting, but sitting there singing he waited for something to creep behind her, stab her in the back and it wasn't what the girl on fire deserved.
Her voice fades into silence and suddenly Haymitch stands, swaying a little on his feet as he tries to catch his balance. He's barely aware of Effie still perched on the edge of the sofa, completely oblivious to the fact that she was watching him almost concerned, because all he knows is that he needs to get out of there, he needs to leave, because he can't watch this madness anymore. He can't watch the only thing he's cared about for twenty four years die like an animal trapped in a cage.