"I wanna come with Paisley!" I hear Dickon shout behind me. I ignore him and saunter out the door, into the spring air. Everything smells good during the spring.

Mother woke this morning, saying that my uncle called on the telephone and that he's going crazy. She says he's momentarily sober. Her and Father laughed, then she sent me with a bottle of liquor, to my uncle's house.

Uncle Haymitch isn't really my uncle. Mother told me that he mentored Father and herself in the Hunger Games. I don't really like Uncle Haymitch that much. He always smells like alcohol and he tends to swear a lot. The first time I met him, he almost threw up on me, but Father pulled me away quickly. I was seven-years-old and Dickon was three. Four years later, I still remember my Father covered in vomit.

I stomp up the steps to my uncle's house and throw open the unlocked door. Hesitantly, I peer inside. "Yuck," I mutter. Old, empty glass bottles litter the ground and out of nowhere, I see a beetle crawl across the floor. The smell inside the house is unbearable, so I breathe through my mouth. My uncle is slumped on a chair at the kitchen table, unconscious. Mother tells me to wake up Uncle Haymitch from a distance because he sleeps with a knife in one hand. I'm not sure why exactly, because the stench of the house itself would scare people away.

I set the bottle of liquor on the kitchen counter and look around, curiously. Beside the sink sits the only thing that can be called even remotely beautiful in the house; a vase filled with water and one dead rose. I skip over to the vase and pull out of the flower. With a shaking hand, I prepare to douse my uncle in water.

But instead of just dousing him in water, I mistakenly whip the vase at him too. I cover my own mouth in shock as he furiously awakens, slicing the air in front of him. Then he sees me. He takes a step forward and at first I think he's about to skewer me, but then he chuckles.

"So, Katniss sends her daughter with the alcohol!" he cries out, clutching his stomach. I wrinkle my nose at him.

"Mother says she's feeling generous," I announce.

"Pfft, generous my haunch," he chortles and grabs the liquor from the counter. "Wanna sit?" he offers, going back to his seat at the kitchen table.

I cautiously walk up to the other chair and sit down.

"So, how's my little Posy doing?" he asks.

"My name is Paisley, Uncle Haymitch, and I'm alright."

"Learn anything worth telling at school?"

"Not really, but Mother and I watched the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games last night."

Haymitch pauses, his eyes widening. "She—let—you watch it?"

"Yes," I admit, "Today she's going to show me all the stuff in her special room. Did you know she has weapons, Uncle Haymitch?"

"Yeah,"

"Do you know about those beautiful dresses?"

"Yup,"

"Does she really know how to shoot people with arrows?"

"She's the finest archer I know."

I press my head against the kitchen table. "Why doesn't anybody tell me!" I shout. I can feel warm tears running down my cheeks. Uncle Haymitch pats me head uncomfortably.

"Hey, don't cry, kid," He mutters.

"Everyone has been keeping secrets from me," I weep, then my eyes widen, "Have you been keeping secrets from me too?"

"For your own good," he admits.

I wipe the tears from my cheek and stand up. "Enjoy your alcohol, Uncle Haymitch, I'm going to go find out more secrets," I say shakily.

"Good luck, kiddo," he whispers before I shut the door to his house.

That's the second chapter for you. Uncle Haymitch, wow that sounds weird. Anyways, review! - aphroditesgurl