Katniss's POV
Day 2 of trauma officially begins. I cannot believe how afraid I am. Getting thrown into a 76th Hunger Games is 10 times easier than getting thrown between Peeta and Gale. So many things have happened between us, Peeta getting hijacked, Gale making the bomb, but I know that I still love them both.
I think about hiding out in the forest for a while, but I'm sure that that would be their first guess. Where to go? I need to get away from this. And then the idea struck me, a place where no one would expect me to be, where I can avoid facing all my fears.
I fling myself out of the bedroom door and down the stairs. Grabbing a bottle of beer from the recently stocked up kitchen, I immediately run towards my target, Haymitch's.
I don't bother knocking as I go in, but I make sure to hold the bottle in plain sight so a drunk Haymitch might think twice about throwing something at me. I don't consider myself lucky or unlucky, because there's Haymitch, lying on the couch, an empty bottle in his hand, sleeping not so soundly. Before I think about making my presence known, I do a quick survey of the house. Very dirty, very messy, very Haymitch. Suddenly, I don't feel like it's such a good idea to be here, but I decide it's better than anything outside.
I don't know why, but I feel a need to wake up Haymitch, maybe it's just instinct from the many times I had to get Haymitch sober to mentor me for the games. I wake over, grab Haymitch by his shoulders and shake him as hard as I can. He replies with a low moan and his eyes open ever so slightly. I wave the beer bottle in front of him and he smiles but looks slightly irritated that I come with it.
He makes little attempt to adjust and stays slouched on the couch. I fit the beer bottle into his hand and he chugs it down in record time. He seems to wake up a little more and decides it's time to acknowledge my presence.
"So, I heard Gale's in town, guess you're wondering who you should pick for your new star-crossed lover," Haymitch says indulgently, hiccupping ever so slightly between words. I feel like denying it, but Haymitch knows I don't make social visits to drunkards.
"You love both of 'em, so do you want to just flip a coin?" Haymitch guffaws and seems proud of his suggestion.
I scowl at him and half-run out of the house, trying to pretend I have not considered it.
