Disclaimer: The Hunger Games, and in particular, the characters of Haymitch and the references to his Games, are all property of Suzanne Collins. If it were mine, you can bet I wouldn't be here writing this. I'd be publishing Haymitch's happy ever after. So there! Also, the song Firework is owned by Katy Perry. All credit for this absolutely wonderful song goes to her.
FIREWORK
Haymitch screamed.
It was coming closer. It was just behind him. He just had to keep running, he told himself. It was the only way.
For her.
Faster! Faster! He could just hear her voice in the back of his head, urging him on.
Stumbling over the rough terrain, Haymitch tripped and fell, like in a classic action movie. Except that in those movies, the hero always gets back up in the end. Haymitch wasn't so sure he would be able to.
Behind him, a dark shape formed… Its form kept shifting. One moment it was a vicious Career, stalking towards him, planning on slitting his throat. He blinked, and the next moment, it was a candy pink bird with a long, thin beak, glistening with blood. Her blood. The form kept changing, faster and faster now. Fluffy carnivorous squirrels. A District One girl, not so pretty and blonde anymore, with her hair streaked with mud, her empty eye socket staring hauntingly at him. Staring accusingly at him. And then the last form, that it seemed to settle on. Her. A blonde hair prettily falling to shape her face. Her neck skewered, her ice-blue eyes cold and lifeless. A reminder of everything that could have been.
With a gasp, Haymitch awoke from his nightmare. It was the fourth time this week! He groaned and heaved himself off of the kitchen chair, where he had fallen asleep again. Padding to the cabinet, he retrieved a bottle of white liquor – hard and numbing, it sent shivers down your back with every gulp you downed.
Gasping at his first mouth, Haymitch once again settled himself on his kitchen chair. Closing his eyes, his mind wandered, the effects of the alcohol not really taking effect as of yet. So he was left alone with his bittersweet memories. Mostly bitter.
God, he felt so useless! Like a pathetic, good-for-nothing loser. Which, in all honesty, was exactly what he was, after Her. That's what he referred to it as anyway. Her. With the capital 'H' and all. She deserved it, in any case. She died because of him, he reminded himself. He couldn't save her. He left her alone. He was laughing while she was being assaulted by those damn killer flamingos!
Haymitch muttered a few choice words, feeling disgusted with himself. Sometimes, all he wanted was to start over again. He felt so fragile now, like a house of cards – just one blow might just cause it all to cave in. Just that one blow. Let alone the many that he had taken – her death. His crowning. The Victory Tour. The many subsequent years of mentoring. Every single one made Haymitch die just a little on the inside.
She always used to tell him that he was special. That he was like those fireworks that shot up in the sky once in a blew moon, when the Capitol decreed it a special enough occasion for them. She always told him to shine, to shoot across the sky like a shooting star.
And he believed her.
Maybe he shouldn't have.
He found it hard to believe – how could a man as broken as him, as flawed as him, as weak as him, ever be able to shine so brightly?
He remembered her last words. Show them what you're worth.
Well, Haymitch thought, maybe he just wasn't worth so much…