This is a short non-drabble, 140 words. I wrote it exactly five months ago, so it's not really up to my current standards. I finally decided to post it because I do like it, kind of.
The ghosts won't leave him alone.
His head is in his hands and his hair's in his face. Trying to pretend that Maysilee Donner isn't lying in the corner in a pool of her own blood.
It's no use. She's imprinted on the back of his eyelids.
The girl pries his fingers away and holds them tightly. She's scared. Hopelessness is an emotion she's never seen on him before.
"Haymitch," she says, and he can hear the desperation in her voice. "You're going to be fine. You're gonna be fine, you hear me?"
Her eyes are the exact same shade of grey as his.
"Is that what you want me to say?"
She doesn't respond, just sits there and holds his hands.
The next day he finds her dead in her bed, a white rose placed carefully in her slit throat.