Hey guys! I apologize for the wait, there's a lot of stuff going on in my life right now. While school is winding down and becoming easier, stuff starts to happen with cheerleading. BAD STUFF. but anyway, I hope you enjoy this (: Oh and this is only Part 1 of Chapter 4, but I figured you deserved something to read right?
Anyway, ENJOY. (:
I watch as the man who holds my life in his hands attempts to raise himself out of his vomit. The alcohol reeks, and is having a negative effect on Katniss. I watch as she tries to hold back a gag. She looks at me, her eyes tell me that she's completely repelled by all of this; but he's all we've got.
We each grab one of Haymitch's arms and help him to his feet.
"I tripped?" He asks. "Smells...bad."
He smears vomit across his face with the back of his hand. I sigh, "Let's get you back to your room. Clean you up a bit."
We each sling one of his arms over our shoulders and help him down the corridor to his chamber. Katniss stops in front of his bed, but quickly decides that in this state he'd probably ruin the bedspread. We haul him into the bathroom and lay him in the showering. I turn the water on him; he groans something before his eyes droop lazily off into sleep.
"It's okay, I'll take it from here," I nod.
She doesn't say anything for a few seconds and I look at her. She's studying me, and then she looks at Haymitch and slightly shakes her head. How I wish I knew what she was thinking.
"All right," She says after a few minutes. " I can send one of the Capitol people to help you."
"No," I shake my head. I can't stand the sight of the Capitol people. "I don't want them."
She begins to walk out. I hear her pause in the door way for a second before I hear the door to Haymitch's chamber closes. I crouch next to Haymitch's motionless figure and turn the spray more directly on his face, and the front of him. He begins to sputter and gasp under the spray, but I don't remove it until all of the vomit is washed down the drain.
I turn of the shower and watch as some sobriety surfaces in his eyes. He just gives me an annoyed look and I stand back up.
"Take a shower, I'm not leaving until you do," I say. He studies me for a second, but doesn't say anything.
I go back out into his bedroom, and study the empty whisky bottles strewn across the floor. Is this really the effect of surviving the games? I know it messes with your brain, but how does someone become a raging drunk?
I begin to collect the glasses, throwing them away. After a few minutes, Haymitch exists the bathroom. He dresses and silently gets in bed, not making eye contact with me or saying anything. After I decide he's not going to get up to drink again, I get up and walk out of his room. Closing his door behind me I walk down the hallway to my chamber.
Once I'm in my room I realize the train hasn't been moving, I've been so caught up in Haymitch and the events from today I didn't notice the pause. I open my window for a quick second, inhaling the fresh air. I let it wash the smell of raw alcohol away from nose. Leaning out the window a little ways I look towards the front of the train. A few windows down a window opens and something falls out of it, or is thrown out.
Feeling the train buzz to life beneath me I close my window, but as the train slowly starts we pass the object that was thrown. It's cookies, neatly cradled in a patch of dandelions. I shake my head at the waste. Even as a child from one of the richer families I know not to waste food. Especially cookies. But, I suppose they can afford to do that in the Capitol, right?
I sit by the window for a while, watching the sun slowly set. In the distance I see the lights of another district, knowing they're getting ready for bed. I close my eyes, picturing my home. What is my family doing? Are they continuing on, like nothing happened? Like I'm not missing? Surely my mother did. Did they watch the recap of the events? I wonder if my father sits up by the oven, watching the flames deteriorate to nothing like he always does when something bad happens. My brothers have probably locked themselves in their shared room, sitting the night out in silence. In the morning they'll wake up and brush it off – pretend like nothing happed.
My chest becomes heavy upon these thoughts. No one will mourn my disappearance, except maybe a few of the girls at school. No one important to me though. No one will bother to care. It's too heartbreaking to.
I shake my head and get up, going to the bathroom. Stepping into the shower, I let the warm run over me, taking the thoughts of today with it. After I step out, I feel like ten pounds have been washed away from my body.
I pull on a pair of night pants and lay down. The sheets are amazingly soft, the comforter wrapping me in warmth. I close my eyes and immediately find myself drifting away. My dreams taking me far from this horrible world.
When I wake up, there's gray light coming through my window. I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stare at the ground.
Yesterday I was chosen to be the male tribute for District 12. I'm on my way to the Capitol, where I will die. I remind myself. I feel a lump rising in my throat, tears threatening to spill over my eyes. Shaking my head, I get up and steady myself. The swaying of the train sets me off balance as I try to make my way to the dresser. In the dim light, I can barely make out the differences of the clothing. Blindly, I chose a shirt and decide to pull on the pants from last night.
After brushing my hair messily away from my face, I decide to make my way out to the dining car. I brush past Effie Trinket who just smiles at me, telling me she was just coming to wake me. I nod, and put my best fake smile on.
In the dining car, Haymitch has already started his drinking and is laughing loudly at himself. His face is swollen, a bright pink color flushing his cheeks. I shake my head, laughing to myself at his stupidity. Crossing over to the table, I sit down beside him. He looks over at me and furrows his eyebrows.
"Peeta?" He says, taking a swig of a red juice he keeps thinning with a clear liquid.
I nod, staring at the food they've set out in front of me.
"Like pita bread?" He laughs. "You're a Mellark too aren't you? What a riot!"
I ignore his comment. I have always tried to ignore the fact my name was that of a bread, only varying in spelling. My parents had gotten lazy once I came around I guess.
"So, Peeta, tell me what you think of your….predicament," Haymitch says. He takes another swig of his drink.
"Not much to say," I mumble, caught up in the food they've placed in front of me. There's an arrangement fruits in the center of the table, some I've never seen before. There's a basket of roles next to it, the steam rising from the fluffy white bread. There's orange juice, and coffee. I've never liked coffee, it's taste bitter. What catches my eye is a glass of rich brown stuff I couldn't recognize.
Picking it up, I take a sip, letting it run down my throat. It tastes like happiness. I take another drink, not seeming to get enough.
I turn to Haymitch," What is this?"
"Hot chocolate," He says nonchalantly, like the liquid he was referring to wasn't the most wonderful think I'd ever tasted.
I set it aside, saving it for last. I pick up a role and begin breaking off chunks when Haymitch turns to me again.
"So, you like the girl?" His words are becoming more slurred.
I stutter slightly, caught off guard. Was it so obvious that even a drunk could tell? I think of way to answer, but am saved when Effie comes in and sits at the head of the table.
"Well that answers that!" He laughs as my face begins to heat with embarrassment.
