Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy or any of its characters
Title: Sickening
Rating: M
Summary: Effie Trinket makes him sick.
Prompt: #3 Haymitch never dealt with jealousy well
Haymitch Abernathy sat on the couch, a bottle of whiskey clutched tightly in his hand. He wished that any of his other companions was with him, but Katniss and Peeta were training, while Portia and Cinna worked on their designs for the tributes. He was stuck with Effie Trinket, the annoying District 12 escort whose mouth seemed to work quicker than her brain. She did not make good company, she never did, but she's even worse now, seated across the room with a telephone in hand, flirting with some rich Capitol jerk, trying her best to not be heard while she exchanged meaningless words with the mystery man.
"Tonight, I am nobody else's but yours, Mr. Antelman," a smile graced Effie's lips as she held the receiver over her ear, giggling at the sweet nothings the mystery man had flirtatiously whispered to her ear, over the receiver.
Effie's words were enough to make Haymitch gag, and her giggles made him grunt in irritation. He took a swig of his drink, numbing the strange feeling of tightness wrenching in his chest. He never really imagined Effie as someone who flirted; he always thought she was a prude. He reminded himself that he didn't know her that well, thus, his impression of her may have been false. But it surprised him more that someone seemed to be reacting positively to her advances. Who would want her, really? She was a silly girl who wore ridiculous wigs and brightly colored, tight-fitting dresses. No man could see what she truly looked like under the layers of powder she puts on. He wouldn't be surprised if he ever finds out that the men she slept with had woken up mortified upon seeing the 'fabulous' escort stripped down of all her clothes and glamour, looking nothing like she did the night before. He would've been amused at the thought, were it not for a pang of pain that pierced through his guts. He attributed it to indigestion; Effie had that effect on him. He was that disgusted with her.
"You're being too straightforward, Mr. Antelman," she purred, "I think a restaurant will do just fine."
Haymitch quietly took another long swig of his liquor. He ignored the burning sensation in his throat as he gulped down the toxic liquid like it was water. What the hell were they talking about, anyway? And who the hell is Mr. Antelman? She said that she was going to gather up some sponsors. Is that her way of doing it? He shuddered at the thought, and he emptied the bottle.
A whirl of indecent images danced before his eyes. The lustful exchange of kisses between the escort and the elusive Mr. Antelman, his soft whispers against her ear as he nibbled on it, wet kisses trailing down her neck, it all came crashing down on the mentor. Haymitch could almost hear the soft moans escaping Effie's lips as the man undressed her, unaware that they were being watched. He envisioned her, eyes shut tight, gasping in pleasure, as she clawed at the stranger's pale back, her make up smudged, and her clothes forgotten on the floor. He was driven mad by emotions that he could not recognize. His stomach turned with every change of scenery. That man was fucking her in every possible way. His head throbbed in pain as the thoughts flooded his mind, filling him with rage and malice. Without thinking, he stood from where he sat, walked towards Effie, took the receiver off her hand, and slammed it onto the floor, shattering it. He heard her scream like a harpy, probably scolding him for what he'd done, but none of what she said registered. He wanted to tell her off, too. He hated her for acting like a whore. Although a small part of him thought that he was just being malicious. His vision was blurry, the room was spinning, and when he opened his mouth to speak his mind, hot, acid vomit spewed out, staining his shirt and the pristine carpet. He heard more screams, the room spun faster, he felt himself hit the carpeted floor. He saw a blurry image of the escort fussing over him, a mixture of worry and resentment painted on her face. The room turned black, and soon, all was quiet.
A/N: It wasn't supposed to end up like this. I actually planned a fluff piece. I don't really know what happened.