I wanted to be in the Games.
That was a funny thought. Would have been funnier if my blood-alcohol concentration was a little higher, but that barkeep was so damn slow the full effect of the humour was lost on me.
This is why I never go to bars. They can't get me my drinks fast enough. But I don't have much of a choice, now. No one'll sell me any alcohol thanks to Peeta, and Effie won't even let me in her house since I "stole" those bottles of wine. (She was never gonna drink them.)
Damn that kid. He's ruined every semblance of peace I've had in the last twenty-five years. First, he breaks my routine. Then he cuts off my booze. And now he's taken away my chance at the Games.
I shudder at the thought of them. Like I didn't witness those every day. I'd never think I'd want to go through that again. But I would.
Ah, here's my drink. I smile at the waitress. She's got grey eyes and dark hair. Like me. Like Maysilee. Like Katniss.
Katniss. That argument she and Peeta had days ago comes to mind. Fighting over who I liked more. Of course I liked Katniss more. She reminded me of Maysilee. Peeta just reminded me of myself, and I hate myself.
The kid's so desperate. He can put on a hell of a facade, but he's really, secretly simple. All he cares about is survival, his and his partner's.
God, I loved Maysilee. I'd had girlfriends at that age, but ever since I could talk I'd always had eyes for her. She was a beautiful girl. Gentle, but strong when she needed to be. Too naive, but we all were. I never should have broken off our alliance. I tried to sound cool, sure as hell did, but I was screaming inside. I knew something was gonna happen. I should've trusted myself for once. I regretted everything the moment I heard her scream. I wanted to die right there beside her, but all I could do was hold her hand. Dying would've been selfish. I had a family who needed the money. Well. Hell of a lot my selflessness did. They died just like her.
I take a long sip of my drink and finish it instantly. Expensive stuff, burns a lot less than what I'm used to. Clearly it's not as strong, though.
Strong. That's the real secret to winning the Games. Strength. My winning was a fluke, a complete screw up on behalf of the Capitol. Katniss and Peeta, they deserved to win. They were smart, sure, but they actually knew what they were doing. They were survivors. I was just some egotistical pedant with no clue.
If I could've competed now, if I could've stopped that kid from volunteering, I could've saved them both. Katniss will come out alive, no way Snow would kill her now. But Peeta. That kid would probably die for her. And after Katniss gets out, she won't be able to handle life without him. I've damned her to the same hell as I'm in, with no way out. Well. The Games could've been my way out. But I was too scared. Am too scared. I'm just a coward. I'm just a coward with nothing in the world but two kids who're probably getting killed right now, because I'm supposed to be watching them and helping them, but I couldn't do it. At least, not sober. Further emphasizing what a coward I am.
I'm crying. I'm so numb I barely noticed, but I'm sobbing profusely and everyone in the bar is staring. The manager's coming to ask me to leave.
"Sir, I think you've had enough."
Son, you've got no idea how true you are.