Warning for dark themes.
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me.
Part Two
"Is this Haymitch Abernathy? May I please speak to him," the caller asked urgently.
"Yeah. Effie? What's wrong with your voice, you got a cold or something? You don't always call in the morning, always at night unless... I'm too drunk to know the time."
"Mr. Abernathy, this is..." The person wavered, a catch in the note of her voice registering at the back of his mind, "- this is Mrs. Trinket. Effie's mother."
Haymitch frowned, a sudden feeling of dread falling over him like a blanket.
"Uhh. Yes?"
"Please, if you could... Please come as quickly as you can, Mr. Abernathy. My little girl..." a sobbed escaped the woman. "- so much blood. She won't make it. Please. I don't know who else to call."
His blood ran cold. His hands began to tremble.
Haymitch heard the phone being passed to another person and Plutarch's voice reached his ears.
"Mitch, you're listed as Effie's emergency contact person along with her mother. I don't know the kind of relationship you had with her but...Look, if you want to come, I'm sending a hovercraft down to Twelve. Fastest way to get to the Capitol."
"I'll be there. Just...What the hell is going on?" he managed to asked after he had overcome the initial shock.
The wait for the arrival of the hovercraft and the journey to the Capitol were among the toughest moments of Haymitch's life. He kept replaying all the conversations he could remember having with Effie in his head and the last phone call he had with her, trying desperately to calm his raging thoughts. A singular thought permeated his mind: What if that call was the last time I'll ever hear her voice?
He somehow managed to detach himself from his own morbid reverie and ran through his house despite the alcohol raging through his body, picking up clothes and items for his trip to the Capitol. Haymitch was barely aware of what he was doing, his body moving on auto-pilot. He had picked up a TV remote control by accident, mistaking it for his keys all the while his mind swirled with images of Effie and blood.
His thoughts inevitably lurched back to the day he found his family dead in their bed. He had found his brother with his chest slashed open, the mattress filled with red crimson liquid. Oh Eff, not you too, Eff, not you too.
He spent the entire ride on the hovercraft pacing wildly, his fist clenching and unclenching on his side. After hours on the hovercraft, he finally disembarked on the roof of a hospital. Plutarch was there to greet him. His face was grim and Haymitch felt the feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach multiply ten-fold.
"Is she- I mean...is she..." He stuttered, unable to get the words out.
"No. Come along."
XxX
Plutarch led him to a room at the end of the hall way. No words were exchanged between them but he laid a hand on Haymitch's chest stopping him before opening the door to the hospital room.
"Has she ever mentioned in passing or otherwise her desire to end her own life?"
Haymitch's eyebrows shot up and disappeared into his hair line. "What?" he sputtered out. "You mean, she... I thought she got into an accident, car accident or ... I don't know," he shrugged helplessly.
"She tried to take her own life, Haymitch. That's what it looks like."
"No, it can't be. She's depressed and unhappy but –"
"Attempted suicide – took her mother's medication. She overdosed on Warfarin, an anticoagulant. Effie was haemorrhaging. Her mother found her this morning bleeding heavily from her nose, the pillow soaked with her blood."
"Shit, man," Haymitch uttered softly, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Her last phone call was to you."
Haymitch started as he recalled the silent call he received in the middle of the night and closed his eyes in despair.
XxX
Haymitch settled in on Effie's left, her mother on her right. Haymitch gave the older woman a curt nod and watched her silently as she dabbed the tears with handkerchief. Haymitch had never met Effie's mother before but had heard of her enough from Effie.
He turned his gaze to Effie who looked as white as a sheet except for the bruises that had formed on her pale skin.
"The doctors told me that she had been ingesting my warfarin tablets for a few days and that last night, she overdosed on them. I was... They informed me that the uncontrolled bleeding from her nose and the bruises are signs and symptoms of an overdose on warfarin," her mother spoke softly.
He looked at Mrs. Trinket briefly and noted the grief stricken expression on her face. Haymitch stroked Effie's hair, but he couldn't help the feeling of anger creeping into him. Did Effie think it was okay to leave her mother behind, to leave him behind? All those nightly phone calls she made to him - a routine Haymitch had learnt to accept and even looked forward to – and he couldn't pick up the signs from her? While he knew that Effie was still struggling to cope, Haymitch had never thought she would be driven to end her own life. How desperate was she?
"She talks about you often," Mrs. Trinket told him after another lengthy silence.
"Complained about me will be a more accurate term, I believe," he muttered.
"Yes, well, she does that, too. I didn't like her being friends with someone from a District but... She's stubborn, had always been stubborn and you saved her from the prison. I owe you for saving my little girl's life."
He knew that it was not easy for the proud woman to admit that she owed a man like him anything. Haymitch swallowed painfully hearing those words. There wouldn't be a life to be grateful for if she didn't wake up from her coma.
Plutarch came that night and brought Mrs. Trinket home leaving Haymitch alone with Effie.
"Mr. Abernathy, if you need someplace to stay, please we have an extra room at our house," she offered, a silent understanding had been formed between them as they sat vigil for hours by Effie's side.
Haymitch nodded, "Thank you, Mrs. Trinket. It's Haymitch."
But Haymitch remained with Effie and kept her company even if she had no way of finding out.
XxX
Effie opened her eyes five days later. Haymitch never thought he could ever have a favourite colour, but blue seemed to be it at that moment. The relief that flooded his body when she opened her azure blue eyes was palpable.
Mrs. Trinket broke out into fresh tears and launched herself at Effie, kissing and stroking her cheeks.
"Oh, my sweet, sweet girl. You gave me such a fright," Mrs. Trinket sobbed, hugging Effie's frail body.
Effie cried too, the tears silently falling down her cheeks. Her eyes locked on Haymitch who was hovering at the background awkwardly watching the display between mother and daughter.
Mrs. Trinket pulled back and saw the way Effie was staring at Haymitch. She patted Effie's cheeks and left the two alone.
Haymitch moved slowly and settled down at the edge of her bed, his hand finding hers.
"I'm still alive," she said.
"Odds forever in your favour, I think your mother said."
"I'm sorry," she muttered. Haymitch wasn't sure what she was apologising for. For trying to kill herself? For making him worried?
"Aren't you going to ask me why?" she asked softly, her gaze downcast as though she was embarrassed.
"No," he said staring at the wall behind Effie's head. "I know how it feels, I've entertained such thoughts before. Just ... Promise me something, Eff."
Effie looked up at him curiously.
"Don't do it again. I don't think – can't imagine waking up to news that you're gone just like that, without me ever..." he cleared his throat. "- especially if... if there's a way that I could have helped."
She cried, her sobs racking her fragile body.
Haymitch tilted his head and regarded her, desperately wishing that she understood what he meant. Haymitch wasn't an emotional man by nature but this woman lying helplessly on the white bed made him feel all sorts of emotions that he wasn't ready to fully admit to himself yet.
"Haymitch?" she asked timidly after she had finally managed to calm down. "Can you... Kiss me, please. I just want to ... I just want to feel something."
Haymitch stiffened unconsciously, frowning at her unexpected request. He could feel the blood coursing through his veins and his senses began to heighten. He felt the coldness of her hand in his, the way her chest rose and fell, how she shifted uncomfortably when the silence between them began to drag on.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry that was ... extremely forward of me," she said, the voice cracking. She pulled her hand away from his but he held on to it fast.
I can't feel anything. Numb, most of the time, he remembered Effie telling him over the phone once.
Haymitch leaned forward slowly and he saw her pupils dilate. Her breath hitched and his lips stopped mere inches from her. He could feel her soft, warm breath blowing against his own lips.
Her eyes fluttered shut and Haymitch closed the gap between them, his lips pressing softly against hers. He brought his hands up to cup her cheeks. Haymitch could feel the tears falling down her face as he kissed her. He had never before imagined that he would be kissing Effie Trinket in such circumstances. The Capitol movies he watched out of boredom at the Penthouse before the start of the Games lied then - not all kisses were sweet, there are no music, no birds singing in the trees. There was only a woman's desperate need to feel something, to remind herself that all is not as bleak as she made it out to be.
He pulled away and looked at her. "It's okay if you don't feel anything, Eff. A kiss isn't going to change anything."
Effie shook her head, "I feel something... I feel hopeful."
And that's it. End of Warfarin.
I hope I had managed to pull off a decent job. Tell me your opinion, drop a review :)
