Haymitch runs. It's all he can do.
There's nowhere to run to, but still he runs. The girl runs after him, her face itself terrifying to look at, with the hole where one eye used to be, blackened with blood that ran down her face.
Haymitch doesn't look down at his own wounds as he runs. His stomach where the axe had buried itself was simply numb, and he knew that was worse. There was a whole burning sensation around the front of his body. His blood pounded in her ears as he struggled not to retch at the feel of holding his own intestines inside himself rather than fall out through the deep wound.
He coughs, blood falling down his lips, but still he runs. They're heading to the cliff now, and Haymitch knows there's only one chance.
He falls to his knees at the edge of the cliff, turning to see the girl. She's stopped too, standing there watching him. He supposes there's triumph in her eyes, but for the moment they are clouded with hatred. Not all for him, Haymitch knows. More for the Capitol; more for this whole godforsaken shithole they are in.
She hoists the axe and prepares to throw it, weighing it in her hands, finding the best position and aim.
Haymitch can feel himself slip away and he knows he's going to pass out before she kills him. That's okay. Maybe it's better. His entire body is numb and blood bubbles up in his throat, threatening to choke him. He spits it out, coughing until black spots dance before his eyes, and then he sees the axe coming towards him and feels himself falling, face first, onto the grass, and there's darkness and there's death and he knows that it's the end.
He's unconscious as the axe whistles past where his head was. The girl straightens up, confident. The axe hits the forcefield that Haymitch discovered, and rebounds. Straight back to its owner.
There's barely time to register the shock and horror on the girl's face as it is broadcast throughout the districts and Capitol, before the metal obliterates her features.
There's silence in the arena. The Victor is unconscious; unaware he has just won the 50th Hunger Games. He won't be aware what it cost him until weeks later, when the president will murder his family for what he showed in the Games.
After that, he will become a mentor for everyone from his district to compete. He will turn to alcohol to quench the never ending pain in his chest from losing everything despite winning.
Within a few years, he will give up trying. Give up everything. There will be nothing left for him.
24 years later, he will be approached by two more tributes. He will be challenged by them, to actually live. He will see himself in the not one, but two, Victors of the 74th Hunger Games.
And he will feel, for the first time, proud. And alive.