rep·re·hen·si·ble: adjective
deserving of reproof, rebuke, or censure; blameworthy.
Reprihensible
Gale drinks.
That's just what he does now.
Every day, he gets off from work and hikes it down to his favourite bar. It's his preferred choice for three reasons: it's cheap, it's mostly empty, and it's downtrodden. This allows him to drink a lot, drink in solitude, and drink without any of his hoity colleagues joining him.
Why does he drink? Now that's a complicated question. In the beginning you could argue that it was a way to blow off steam, and relax after a hard day at work, but since he hasn't just walked straight past the stupid place in seven months, it's doubtful anyone would believe that's the main reason.
You could say he drinks to cloud his problems. He certainly has plenty of those to share around. Work, relationships, family: they're all things he wishes to put out of his troubled mind.
But sitting there at his usual spot on the scummy counter, swirling his second whisky round and around his glass, he comes to the conclusion that he drinks out of guilt and out of punishment. For all the people's lives that he ruined, he doesn't deserve to be positive and carry on as if nothing happened. He doesn't deserve a happy, or content, or carefree life. He has to suffer for what he did. He has to screw up his own sad life as best he can as his ode to them. So he downs the whisky in one and indicates to the bartender that he's ready for round three.
Of course, out of all the things he regrets, out of all the many things he is sorry for, there is only one that counts. He can barely say the sweet little girl's name any more.
Katniss hates him. Katniss despises him. Yet she will never feel the anger that he feels towards himself. Gale destroyed her when he took away the only true thing giving her life any meaning. He deserves her wrath. She should have put her arrow right through his eye instead of through Coin. But the thought of her arrows piercing eyes brings back unwanted memories of hunting, memories that he suppresses at once. That was a different time.
After all he went through to ensure they won the war, he thought it would have felt better.
His mother is worried beyond belief, he knows that. They haven't seen each other face to face since just before he left with the Star Squad. He sneers at the sheer thought. She's angry and disappointed and sad, but the worst part is that he doesn't care. They're better off without him anyway.
Little Posy has other brothers, kinder brothers, who'll keep those boys away from her when the time comes. She'll grow up in this new world without a destructive force beside her.
Vick is still a little kid, but Gale knows he can entrust his mother's wellbeing to him. He has the gentlest soul of anyone, and will do much better without the father figure he'd seen Gale as. He'd done a pretty shitty job at that.
Rory's a goddamn punk, but he's a goddamn punk who's lost his best friend in the world, courtesy of his older brother. Making sure Rory never finds out is a big enough reason in Gale's mind for him to stay away. The kid would never forgive him.
So Gale drinks for his family. He laments at the unruly mess he made of the thing that once meant most to him
Once his fourth drink is in his hands, his thoughts turn to what he'd tried to suppress. Her. She was always so bright and optimistic and full of life and happiness. She was the most innocent soul he ever had the honour of knowing. His mouth twitches at the thought of finding her searching for that bloody cat back in District 13, just before the bombs hit. Bombs.
That's what it all came down to. One precious life among many, destroyed in a second thanks to his creation. Gale was just as bad as Snow, thinking of ways to kill people who only wanted to end suffering.
He takes a sip for the way her long blonde hair would swish around her face on windy days, only kept back in neat braids. He had practically spent his whole life hating those with fairer hair, as it was a mark of their privileged lives, but not her. She reminded him of the goodness in the world.
He takes a sip for her cornflower blue eyes that he had seen filled with tears too many times for such a young girl. He would never forget lifting her firmly away from Katniss on that reaping day, feeling her tears soak through his shirt. He would never forget telling her to fix her eyes on his, so she wouldn't have to watch her sister helpless underneath that vicious tribute at the Feast. Her eyes held such fear in them; they had both thought it was the end of Katniss. Yet it wasn't always despair in those eyes. They had seen much happier times of frolicking around the meadow in late spring, playing catch. They had been focussed and concentrated when dedicated to saving his life and helping him recover after the whipping. She had saved him. She sure got the worse end of that deal.
He downs the whole glass at the thought of her pure heart. The little girl couldn't even bear to step on a spider, let alone kill another creature. She was purely a healer, dedicating her life to the wellbeing of others. She was too kind, way too kind, for this terrible world and the only thing he could wish for her was a happier place. A place where she could be her innocent self and look down on her broken sister, helping her from above.
Gale took her before her time, and it was cruel, unfair and unforgiveable.
So Gale drinks.
Gale drinks to remember Prim.
Author's Note: Hey, hope you all enjoyed this little piece. I thought the best way to ease myself back onto the site would be through a little oneshot. Personally, I don't agree with Gale's view in this story, but in my head this is how he could be feeling.
Please take the time to review, I would really appreciate it! Lots of love.