Chapter 3
Come Take My Hand
So come take my hand
Maybe you'll understand
The faster we run
The softer we land
When we get inside the train Eli goes straight to his room. I go to follow him and comfort him, but Haymitch takes hold of my wrist. I turn to face him, he shakes his head, looking down and whispers, "Not now, Rosie. He needs to reevaluate his… priorities."
I nod even though I don't really understand his words, but I don't question them. I finally decide to take a look around the room I'm in. It's beautiful. And big. Probably as big as my house in the Seam. It's all white, with a long narrow banquet table with all sorts of food on the opposite side of where I'm standing. There are two green velvet couches facing each other with a small coffee table in the center. They are located in the center of the room. Next to me is a bar, which I now see is where Haymitch is headed. Hell no. This is the time, I think. This is the time to intervene. I grab his hand..
"Haymitch, may I speak to you?" I mumble in a small voice, because I'm nervous about his reaction and embarrassed for asking.
"Sure Rosie. Is there something wrong? Why're you all red?" he grumbles.
I glare. "I'm not red. I just-I was wondering. If um-you could do me a favor for the duration of my games."
He looks hesitant.
"Depends on the 'favor'." He says with air quotations around favor.
"Could you try and stay sober and help me and Eli? I'll make you different remedies and concoctions and I'll help you and distract you, I promise! It'll be like we're at home." I say quickly and smile at him reassuringly as possible.
I want him to agree. No, I need him to agree.
I've never seen him more sober than when he's with me. So I'm hopeful that I'm the only one who can ask this of him and receive "yes" as an answer.
He's my father in many ways. I don't feel like I'm betraying my real father by saying that, because I know he wouldn't want me to feel like I'm missing out on that relationship.
He looks at me sadly for a moment. "Once you board that train, nothing here will be like home, trust me. But if that's what you want, Rosie, I'll do it. You should know that by now. You're the only family I have. If this is what you need, I'll do it. If this will make you feel better, I'll do it. Consider it done. Now go get washed up. I'll be here. Sober." He winks and smiles his special "Rosie smile" he likes to call it, even though he grimaces on the last word. The one that makes his eyes crinkle and look handsome and young. I smile and kiss his cheek and run off to my room.
I open the door and try to pick my jaw up off the floor.
Results? Unsuccessful.
The whole room is marble. I know how much marble costs. It's district two's main work. It's for the rich. It's a luxury that district four, a career district, can barely afford. I have only seen marble once in my life.
A few hours ago, in the Justice Building in twelve.
The room is cold, so are the floors. Reminds me of the Capitol's hearts.
I walk into the room and make sure the door is locked before peeling off my dress. I hear the distinct sound of metal hitting the ground. Creepy.
I pick up the dress to scan for the source and find what I'm looking for.
The mockingjay pin from Katniss.
Katniss.
Now I will never be able to return her pin. I will never be able to meet her baby and love them with all my heart like I do Katniss.
Ugh. I'll never be the cool aunt!
I miss them so much. I miss Katniss and mom and Rory and Gale and Pose and the Hawthorne's and Lady and Buttercup and Peeta and Darius and the Hob and even the boy who bullied me since I was 13. I miss home and anything linked to it.
I miss being young and innocent. But I still am. I still am the girl who is afraid of reaping day and killing animals. I just learned how to hide it.
I manage to turn on the complicated shower, and when I'm under it I can't stop the tears.
I look through the different smelling soaps available (a freaking ton). I get the hang of it and the system and how the shower works. I manage to match the soaps and oils to the same powerful scent that is my favorite and I know is Haymitch's: lavender.
FLASHBACK
I wait for about two minutes before knocking again.
"Mr. Abernathy, it's Primrose Everdeen."
It has been about two weeks since I interacted with Mr. Abernathy for the first time at the Hob. He rescued me from that god-awful man who needed food. I felt terrible for the guy even though he was an asshole. He looked awful and dirty and sad and hungry. But I had to get money for what I was selling, and he refused.
Mr. Abernathy helped me out and walked me home.
Now, I am at his doorstep in the Victor's Village and am bringing herbs. I started hunting with Katniss and trading at the hob, but I would never openly bring game to anybody's doorstep in broad daylight to trade. Only an idiot who thought torture and imprisonment was fun would do that.
I've noticed over the years that Haymitch is a little (extremely) depressed and tends to drink a little (excessively) to ease his pain. I thought maybe these could help a little.
"Mr. Abernathy?"
I try the door handle. It's unlocked.
I walk inside slowly and carefully to not disturb him. He has a very large home but it's plain and the walls are bare. Humph. If I had a house and a victor salary I would fill it with family pictures and decorate it. All he has is furniture.
Then it hits me. The smell. No, not smell. The stench. It smells like alcohol and rotted food. I wrinkle my nose in disgust.
I see Mr. Abernathy on the couch in the living room, knocked out cold with an empty bottle on the floor next to him.
I walk further into the house, and in the kitchen I see the main source of the smell. There is molded bread and fruit on the countertops, and dirty dishes overflowing the sink. I have a few hours to spare since Katniss thinks I'm with Delilah. I came here to thank Haymitch for his help. I see how I can do that now. I pray he won't mind. If Katniss knew I was here she'd kill me.
I sigh, and roll up my sleeves. I walk into the kitchen and get to work. I first look under the sink for a garbage bag. Once I find that I collect all of the empty bottles (11) and the rotten food. I go into the room he's sleeping in to get the empty bottle I saw. Once I collect it, I head back into the other room. Something shiny in his hand catches my eye. It's a knife.
A shiver runs up my spine, and I am suddenly overcome with sadness. Whatever he went through that makes him need a knife to fall asleep must be horrendous. I walk into the other rooms in the house and collect the garbage.
A couple of hours have gone by. I start on the dishes. I begin to hum to myself without thinking. It's one of my favorite songs my father and Katniss sang, the hanging tree, which she only sings when I ask. Beg is more like it actually.
Time flies by and I'm finally through the Mount Everest of dishes.
I hear a creak in the floorboard and jump. I turn around and see Haymitch standing with a bemused expression. I feel the blush on my cheeks already. Strong. Great.
"Mr. Abernathy. Sorry to barge into your house. I came here to say thank you for helping me a few weeks ago in the Hob. I would have come sooner but I've been busy. I-um-brought you something. I knocked, but you didn't answer, and the door was unlocked. I know I shouldn't have opened the door uninvited. It was rude. I was worried about you when you didn't answer. I came in and you were sleeping. But I saw this mess, and I couldn't leave without showing you my gratitude for your help. So, thank you." I sigh with a wide, yet sheepish, smile. I feel my cheeks still red.
He's looking at me confused, with his eyebrows raised in disbelief.
He doesn't say anything for a minute in shock. Awkward.
The smile slips from my face as the time goes by.
"I brought you this. It's called lavender oil. It helps with all sorts of things. We have a plant I began growing in my backyard and I use the oil a lot for patients. I have been trying to plant more but I haven't been-er able to fund it. My mother is a healer. And so am I. Sort of. I want to be one." I feel myself rambling.
He still looks at me in disbelief. Then he averts his gaze to my outstretched hand with the bottle of lavender oil in it. He is silent for a few more minutes. He doesn't move or try to take it.
"Listen, I'm sorry for coming into your home uninvited. It was foolish and rude and completely impolite. I apologize. Thank you for your help Mr. Abernathy." I set the bottle down and look at the floor.
I turn to walk out the door when Mr. Abernathy grabs my wrist. He grabs it much more gently than I thought he would. Not like a man who was about to throw an uninvited stranger out of his home.
"You were worried about me?" he says in a small voice, filled with disbelief. Out of all that I said he only heard that I was worried about him. Why wouldn't I be? Why does he doubt that?
"Of course I was!" I shout at him. He takes a step back. I can't believe I just shouted at this man. "Of course I was, Mr. Abernathy." I say in a softer voice. I put my hand on his shoulder and meet his gaze.
"It's Haymitch. My name is Haymitch." He plasters a smile on his face.
PRESENT TIME
I walk into the bedroom to get dressed. I choose a pair of cream shorts and a long sleeve forest green shirt from the many options. I pick up Katniss's pin and decide where to put it. Afraid of someone taking it away, I slip it into the shorts pocket. Its something I want to always have with me. It's all I have left of home besides my memories now.
I split my hair down the middle and braid each side in two. I like braiding my hair, since it reminds me of the little girl I once was. I still wear mine in two since it's very childlike, innocent, feminine, and sweet, and (I hope somewhat) fits my personality.
I walk out of my room to find Haymitch. Before I walk two steps out of my room I hear the sound of glass breaking, and it's coming from Eli's room.
I knock on the door and when there's no answer except for more glass breaking, I enter without thinking.
What I see I don't exactly comprehend.
Eli is sitting in front of the long mirror in his room, and if I'm not mistaken his eyes are glassy, with faded tear tracks on his face. The mirror is in pieces on the floor, and his knuckles are bleeding profusely. What concerns me is the fact that he's shaking so hard.
I act on instinct. The healer within me kicks in and I rush over to tend to his wounds. I assess the damage, thinking of the supplies I'll need, and go to the control panel on the wall that acts as a sort of elevator. I punch in the supplies needed, and seconds later they appear. I grab them and bring them to Eli wordlessly. He has fresh tears streaming down his face but I pretend not to notice.
I focus on his hands. They are pressed against his eyes, trying to hide his face. His body is rocking with sobs. His hands are covered in blood and dripping down into the marble.
I stare at the contrast of red to white.
I try to pry his hands from his face, but they won't budge and I know they won't be able to. My muscle mass doesn't even compare to his.
"Eli, I need to bandage your hands. Let me see," I say gently.
He doesn't move his hands or do anything. So I do what Katniss does when I cry.
I sing.
I'm not nearly as good as she is, but I'm not bad. To be safe, I sing a Capitol approved song with meaningless lyrics.
He starts to relax a little at the sound of my voice. When the song is over, I hum.
Eventually I am able to pry his hands from his face.
I begin working immediately.
Removing the glass embedded in his skin, I disinfect his hand and wrap it with gauze and bandages.
When I'm done I finally stop humming and look at his face. His eyes are boring into mine looking guilty and ashamed. For what, I have no idea.
"Prim, I-I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. One second I was fine and then the next I was panicking. I just- do you miss home?"
"I think it would be weird if anybody wouldn't." I smile sadly, and he manages a faint one in return.
"Right. Yeah. Thank you. You know, when you win, singing could be your talent. I've never heard anything like it before."
I laugh. "IF I win, that would be a talent all on its own. It would be a miracle. But if I do end up winning, singing will be my talent. Just for you, Eli." I say lightly and somewhat teasingly, trying to hide the pain that the truth of the words caused me.
"C'mon. Let's go talk to Haymitch and Effie."
Walking to the door, I hear him follow me, and once I'm through the frame he grabs my hand. He looks nervous and is that terror on his face? I know he's scared of the games, as any normal, sane person would be. I squeeze it reassuringly and look down.
When we reach the next car I scan the bar area for Haymitch. I feel a surge of pride when I see he's not there.
He's leaning in the corner of the room.
"Hey Haymitch," I smile.
He looks at me expectantly like he's waiting for me to speak.
Then he looks at my hand pointedly.
Which I forgot is attached to Eli's.
Haymitch is glaring daggers at the poor guy.
Great.
