Okay, so I'm going to try out a Hunger Games story! So basically it's about the girl named Katniss who is Haymitch's mentor during his games and the only other victor of the Hunger Games before Katniss and Peeta. We finally get to meet her and their story. And why has nobody ever mentioned her before? Just bear with me guys and everything will eventually make sense. This is told in Haymitch's POV. Thank you and enjoy!

I rolled out of bed just as the morning light was beginning to trickle through the thin shades on the window next to our bed. I needed to get my own very badly. As much as I loved my little brother sleeping easily next to me, he was quite the beg hog and I was 16 now, seventeen in a few months. I wish it was so simple that I could just go out and buy one. No, I would probably have to make it myself and it wasn't like I had the time or money to put one together anyway. I rubbed my eyes and debated for a moment whether or not to wake up Tarragon, but decided against it. I figured I should let the poor kid sleep in for as long as possible. Mom and I were up all night trying to get him to calm down and get some sleep. I wish I could say that the first reaping is the hardest, but honestly, it's not. In fact, it probably gets harder. Sure, you eventually stop caring and just say screw them all, but your name is in there more times each year and then you have siblings to worry about. I have no idea what I would do if Tarragon was reaped. Probably lose it. He and I are closer to each other than anyone and we are all we have. There's Mom who is very good to us and we know it, but she works a lot to help support us and the poor woman will never get over what my dad did to us.

There is really not much to say about him except that they married very young and were really in love for a little bit. Then, right around when I was born, he became a real alcoholic. He would work then go spend all his money on booze. Basically, he was a deadbeat who never helped around the house and was drunk all the time. What a miserable fool. Mom tried to make excuses for him. She would say things like "he lost his brother to the Hunger Games when they were younger. He is dealing with a lot and it is hard for him. Give him some sympathy and don't bother him." I can't believe she put up with his crap. Well, she finally up and left him when I was eight. Tarragon doesn't remember him too much, but I do. And I hate him. I swore I would never even look at alcohol. Nothing on this planet will ever make me turn towards that life destroying drug. Not even if I ever lose my own brother to these sick Games.

I slipped down the narrow hallway in our house to find my mother searching the fridge for breakfast. She did even hear me coming until I greeted her, "Morning, Mom." She jumped a mile in the air before turning around sharply and slamming the door closed.

"Haymitch Abernathy! I swear; you nearly gave me a heart attack!" She same over to the other side of the counter and ruffled my messy before engulfing me into a hug from behind.

"Mom, seriously?" I asked, annoyed. She was so touchy and lovey dovey it made me want to puke.

She let go, "Right sorry, Mr. Big and tough 16-year-old." She chuckled before steeling one last kiss on the top of my head and opening a cabinet on the wall. I rolled my eyes and scanned the tiny kitchen as I plopped onto a stool and rested my hands on the filthy counter. We'll get around to cleaning someday. My mom is a beautiful woman who has lived in the Seam her whole life. Her long, blond hair cascaded around her, and her gray eyes were soft and deep. I stood about the same height as her, but probably a good 20 to thirty pounds more than her.

Now, she was on the last cupboard in the house and very jumpy and panicky. "Mom?" I asked, "Is everything okay?" She snapped her head up and forced a smile on her face before taking breath about to say something. I came out as a sob, though.

"No," She wailed, "I'm so sorry Honey; there is just no food in the house!" I stiffened at her words. What does she mean no food? I knew we weren't the richest people in the district, but she never let on that we could be that poor. She stood there, face in hands, eyes watering. "I'm so sorry, so sorry. This is all my fault. I've failed you boys." She kept muttering.

Just then, I heard bare feet slapping against the floors of the house. I turned behind be and standing there was little Tarragon. He and I looked practically identical. It was just that he was much smaller than me, he was even small by the standards of a normal 12-year-old. His dirty blond hair needed a good wash badly and his gray Seam eyes were still half closed. His olive skin looked dark against his small white pajamas. Already upset by the reaping that awaited him today, he was met by the sobs of my mother this early in the morning. So, naturally he began to cry. Great, now I had to deal with the two of them. This was not my day.

So, what did you think? Was my interpetation of Haymitch okay? I would love to know how I did and where I can make improvements! Thank you so much :)

-Lala