Hey guys! Me again . So thank you for reading this it makes me happy. What makes me happier is when you guys review my work. Let me know if you spot a mistake or I get my facts wrong. So this chapter contains a SPOILER if you haven't read Catching Fire yet. I'm not saying to not read my story if you haven't read book 2, I'm saying you should read book 2 then my story. So this chapter is from Haymitch's POV. So enjoy.

I was vaguely aware of what was going on. That's all anything is when your drunk, vague. I liked it better that way. That way my past can't catch up with me.

I could hear the running of water. I think I was in the bathroom. That bot from the reaping was here. What was his name? Peter? Pepper? I don't know. I'll figure it out later. My train of thought was so slow I was already in the bathtub before I even realized what's-his-face was in the room. Freezing cold water soaked through my clothes and slapped my face. Again and again the water kept slapping me. I finally realized that the tribute was splashing me. Clarity was coming upon me, and clarity was something I definitely didn't want.

"Oy! Will you cut that out?" I managed to shout in between splashes of water. It finally ceased. "What was that for?" I swung my arm in his general direction. I missed.

"You can't get through these Games drunk!" his voice wavered. He couldn't decide whether to be harsh or kind. "We need your help." He must have chosen nice because his voice softened. He extended his hand to help me up but I swatted his hand away.

"Who said I wanted to help?" I snapped. Anger welled inside me growing warmer in my chest. I scrambled out of the tub and onto the rug. Water dripped down my face making it hard for me to see. I grabbed the perfectly folded towel and dried my face. Somehow I managed to pull all the other towels down with me.

My comment made him stop for a minute. Surviving tributes don't necessarily want to be mentors. Most don't.

"Just get out of my room." I could tell he was going to try and talk to me. Well, I didn't want to hear what another tribute had to say. It was all the same. "Get out!" I put some extra power in my voice to make my point. He moved to the door a little unsure. He opened it silently and the turned back to me.

"The only reason all those tributes failed is because they never had a mentor." He shut the door before I could even come up with a reply.

I crawled into bed. I closed my eyes an immediately fell asleep. Unfortunately it was far from peaceful. I floated to the place where they keep tributes before the Games. I was sitting down at the table and all of the 42 dead tributes faces were floating through my head. A tear must have rolled down for each of them. That's 42 families who lost their kids. 42 people whose lives I was responsible for. It's not enough I won the second Quarter Quell. They just won't let me be. They make me relive my terror year after year. I always thought I was doing them a favor by letting them die before they could know the terror that has become my life. I guess I had only thought about what I wanted. Not what they wanted.

My dream shifted until it had brought me back into the arena. I cursed under my breath. Every night my dreams took me back here.

I was standing over Maysilee Donner's body. The ax in her stomach had cut so deep; there was no way she could survive. She had already lost too much blood. This was the worst feeling in the world, knowing you couldn't do anything to help. All you could do is watch them die. I looked into her eyes. So many emotions were swimming through them. One stood out above the rest. Sorrow. She would never see her family and friends again. She knew that all of Panem would be watching her die and only a dozen of them would truly care. I held her hand as she slipped away. Just like every night. I was filled with guilt knowing that I had lived while she had to die. No one cared about me, but so many loved her. If only I had gotten there sooner. It might've been different.

I let go of her hand and placed it gently on the ground. After this I woke up. A single tear slid down my cheek. Maysilee will always live inside of me. I will never forget her. Not even when I'm drunk. But that only makes the Games live on longer in my mind.

On my dresser I noticed an envelope that wasn't there last night. Even if it was I wouldn't be able to tell. I picked it up and quickly read it. The letter was from a boy named Gale back in District 12. He knew the girl tribute. Katniss was her name. Now that the alcohol had unfortunately left my system, I could remember the other tribute's name too, Peeta. They had family and friends too. Just like Maysilee. I owed it to her to try to keep these tributes alive. This letter confirmed it. I slid it in my pocket and headed out to breakfast. The two tributes and Effie Trinket were already there. I sat down and received a cold look from Peeta. Katniss looked a little confused as if she was working something out.

Before I knew it Effie had left to attend to "official business" as she called it. I was left with two people who most likely hated my guts.

I tried to reach from my wine glass hoping I could just ignore the last 12 hours. Peeta knocked it to the floor and hit my hand away. It fell onto my pocket where I felt the letter. Any doubts I had were dissolving. That kid was right. This year 12 might stand a chance.

Now that you have read my chapter please review it! It's not that hard. You guys can also answer my question. Should I write from Haymitch's POV in the future? Or should I just stick with Gale? Let me know what you guys think.