DISCLAIMER: Some of the dialogue used in multiple chapters is taken directly from the book "Catching Fire" by Suzanne Collins. No copyright infringement intended.
"And now for the boys."
My heart hammers painfully under my jacket, as my promise to Katniss plays over and over in my head. She was already chosen, but we both knew that was going to happen. The real mystery is what happens next. Who will be her companion this year?
Effie Trinket's thin fingers scrape around the bowl for a few moments before she draws out a name. I slowly close my eyes, just as she reads out, "Peeta Mellark."
My breath catches in my throat. It's not me. It's not me. So why do I feel so cold? Katniss's words flash in my mind, yet again. "So what are you going to do?"
Then my own. "I don't know. Go back in with you maybe, if I can."
I look over at her. She is on the stage, next to Peeta, who, while I have been lost in the tricky web of my own dark thoughts, has gone up to stand next to Effie. Katniss looks furious, and a bit betrayed. She thinks I've forgotten, but I haven't. As much as it pains me to do it, I step forward and call out, "I volunteer!"
The effect is instantaneous. Katniss's anger has transferred to Peeta's face, and relief fills her expression. "Thank you." she mouths. I ignore her.
Then I notice how Effie is looking at me. Her teeth are digging into her bright-pink bottom lip, and I swear that her green eyes are getting misty. The sight confuses me. Why the hell does she care? Shouldn't she be glad that Peeta, sixteen year old Peeta with his feverish, undying love for Katniss, is going to be safe? They're the Capitol's favourite love story, the hottest couple on the air right now. What am I? The Capitol has long forgotten me and my fame. I'm nothing but a common laughingstock now, and one that they can do without. She should be able to do without me too.
Either way, I take Peeta's place on the stage. The blonde boy gives me a dirty look on his way down, but I ignore him too. Then, Effie takes a deep breath and chokes out, "And these are this year's tributes." She struggles to make it sound energetic, but she's failing.
With that, we're dragged off without even getting the chance to say goodbye. This affects Katniss more than it does me, because of course, I am utterly alone, with no one to say goodbye to. Still, even as we board the train, she's staring back at Prim. I feel her pain, as I do remember what it was like to have a younger sibling. That has passed now, though, and I'm not going to think of it again, especially if I want to stay sober until we get into the arena.
As the train starts to hurtle down the tracks, I leave the dining car and head straight into my room. This is it, I think as I lie down on the bed. My nightmares are finally becoming reality. I am going back into the Hunger Games, and this time, not as a fit sixteen-year-old. This time, I am doomed, as an untrained forty-one-year-old. I close my stormy grey eyes and sigh. God, do I ever need a drink.
Just then, the door slides open and Effie appears. "You stupid, stupid man!" she cries, and I realize with a start that her viridescent eyes are filled with tears, streaking down her reddened face through her powdered makeup. "I hate you! Why are you so stupid!?"
She catches me off guard. "What?" I ask, confused. "You're crazy, Trinket. Leave me alone. I don't have time for you right now."
Effie storms over to the bed and pulls the pillow out from under my head. She then begins to hit me with it. As to be expected, she's feeble and I hardly feel anything. Instead, I watch her orange curls bob around her head as she hits me. "I hate you, Haymitch Abernathy! Making me do that!"
"What the hell, Trinket!" I shove the pillow away easily and get up off of the bed. Effie is glaring at me, hugging the pillow tightly to her chest. Her bottom lip is quivering again.
"Why?" she asks in barely a whisper. "Why did you volunteer?"
"So the boy can live." I snap. "Why else? Do you think I want to do this again!?"
She shakes her head. "No, but…" She then whirls around on her pointy high heels, buries her face in the pillow, and starts to cry.
I'm very confused. First the way she was looking at me after I volunteered, and now this. It almost seems like… like she cares about me, but no, that's impossible. I shrug away the notion and go back into the dining car, leaving the escort alone to cry. A little voice inside of me says it's mean to leave her there in tears, but she's starting to give me a headache, and I doubt she wants to talk to me now.
Katniss and Peeta are there. They both look up when I come in. A small, welcoming smile plays across Katniss's lips, but Peeta scowls. "You lied to me." he says in a low voice. "I thought you were going to let me go in with Katniss."
"Well, I guess I just can't keep a promise." I reply evenly. "What can you do?"
Peeta jumps to his feet, body tense, and for a second I think he's going to come and punch me in the face. Instead, he just turns around and leaves the room.
"So I guess I'm not getting a thank you, then?" I joke, sitting down across from her. Other than my excessive drinking, humour has always been my defense mechanism, and humour is the one that won't eventually kill me.
Katniss shakes her head. "Not from him, at least."
I instinctively reach for the whiskey, but then I catch myself and I take a glass of water instead. "From who, then?"
"Me." she says. "Thank you, Haymitch. At least this time he'll be safe."
"Maybe he'll be safe," I reply, "But he won't be happy if something happens to you."
She just stares at me, so I continue. "He wanted to protect you." I tell her. "I think he knows that he would've done a better job than I will."
"As long as he's safe," she says. "I don't care what happens to me."
I frown. "Don't let Peeta hear you saying that."
Katniss chuckles. "I won't. Well… I guess I'll see you later, Haymitch." She stands up, and pushes in her chair. "Thanks again."
She leaves, too. I'm alone again now, fingers woven around my glass, wishing that I were anywhere but here. But frankly, my wishes haven't been working out as of late.