Haymitch's Reason to Drink


I buried my head into my hands as I grabbed my bottle of whiskey. So many years later, and I can't forget my girl, my baby.

I had named her Maysilee, after the girl in the arena. That little girl was the best thing in my life, and the Capitol took her away from me. They stole her from my house, at around midnight. I didn't notice until I awoke and began to make her favorite breakfast. When I called her and she didn't come, I naturally grew extremely worried. I had lost my first love in the arena, her mother in childbirth, I wasn't ready to lose another girl I loved. I rushed out and stood back as the President ordered that Maysilee be whipped to death. I tried to beg him to let the six year old be, but he wouldn't have it.

"You shouldn't have messed with the Capitol, pulling that whole stunt with the force field." He told me bitterly, telling the Peacekeepers to proceed with the whipping.

Her screams were tearing me apart, and I couldn't take it.

"Please!" I pleaded, "let her go! I'll give up everything, j-just spare her!" They already had done the same to my mother and brother, why take my young daughter?

They refused to listen and finally stopped when it was too fatal for Maysilee to survive. I rushed to her, trembling and crying.

"M-May?"

"Yes, D-daddy?"

"I love you very much," I choked back tears. I wanted to tell her that it would be alright- that everything would be alright, but it wouldn't. Nothing would anymore. I wouldn't have my baby girl. The thought frightened me. For years, I woke up and comforted her screaming; she had been forced to watch the Games before, and I couldn't prevent it. I thought she would one day be twelve, her name in the reaping. It would've been better for her to know what happens in the Games earlier, so when she actually- if she actually was reaped- she would know strategies on how to survive.

At least she would never be a part of the Games, that she would never have to kill another for her own survival. At least she was still herself.


Now, drinking is the only way I remember her laughter or her smile. It's the only way I can see her skipping down the stairs in her pink dress and white flats, practicing ballet. The only way I can remember her excitement on Christmas or on her birthday, with a present under the tree or in her hands, eager to open it, but willing to wait for the 'okay' to. It's the only way I could remember the way I would play piano and the way we would sing off key together...

They started it by killing my mother and brother after the force field incident.

That's when I met Juliette- Maysilee's mother. Juliette was one with fair blond curls and bright blue eyes. She was one who was constantly smiling, who could make you laugh when you feel awful, which was why I married her right when I returned. That's why two years later, she died having our blue-eyed daughter with black curls.

"What would you like to name her?" One doctor asked me.

"Maysilee," I answered, "for my first love. Maysilee Juliette Abernathy."

My little Maysilee was the only one in my world, the only one I truly loved anymore. Everyone else was trying to take one from the other, her from me or me from her. Either way, I was determined not to let this happen.

I would dress her up in pretty dresses after her baths, smiling as she twirled around, showing off how much she loved it. Then she would hug me. "Thanks, Daddy!"

I smiled every time the beautiful little girl did, for she was my oxygen.

I woke that horrible morning and made pancakes, surprised she had had a peaceful sleep. When I finished and found her not in her room, her screams started and I rushed over, where they showed her no mercy and she bled to death.

That was when I downed my first whiskey, and that's why I haven't stopped drinking since then.


Something I just randomly came up with. One shot. First Hunger Games story. Please review!