Chapter 4 - The Return Of The Victor

It felt strange to be sitting in the train again. To be honest, I had hoped, but never truly believed that I would be in here again. District 12 weren't supposed to win the Hunger Games. The smiling face of a Career was supposed to light up the screens of thousands in the aftermath – their lively chatter and detailed explanations of deaths to fill up radio broadcasts and show the people how glorious winning was. Minor Districts weren't designed to be in the spotlight, they didn't know how to cope, how to react. I hadn't lived up to the Capitol's expectation. I was a weak winner – a winner that cared too much. I was broken.

Still however, the throngs of people that had waved goodbye with tearful sighs and cries as I departed in the shiny silver train had made me feel a little sick. Even after all my breakdowns and refusals to co-operate, I still had thousands of fans. The Capitol must have spun me a very convincing web, because to many, I was their hero. I had deserved to win.

I however, felt differently.

The sliding door to my bedroom opened. Haymitch strolled inside, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. It seemed the drinking was back.

"How're ya doing buddy?" He asked. I hung my head, not being able to face the conversation we were about to have. As my mentor strolled up he placed a hand on my shoulder. I could smell the alcohol in the bottle, but not on his breath.

"Want some?" Suddenly the bottle was moved closer to my face. I looked back up, wondering if he was joking.

"Seriously, take some." Haymitch said with a smile.

"I thought I wasn't allowed drugs." I replied, my voice monotone and flat.

"Well this doesn't count." I looked back at the bottle, seeing the brown semi-transparent liquid sloshing around inside it. I had only drunk liquor once in my life, at a party with the local community. The warmth in my belly had travelled to my head and felt nice, but then some girl had tried to kiss me so I'd refrained from the toxic beverage ever since. Now however, I wasn't the old Sam anymore, and there weren't any girls around to try anything. I grabbed hold of the bottle and took a swig.

The liquid tasted disgusting. I almost gagged, but managed to hold it in, swallowing and feeling the burn race down my throat.

"Strong isn't it?" Haymitch said, chuckling. I nodded, still coughing and spluttering a little. As he sat down beside me I saw him take his own sip with ease. Was this what my life would boil down to now? Dependence on drugs? I had already experienced the addiction of morphling – even now I was still on a small dose, being weaned off slowly until I was completely clear. To Haymitch this was the only way he could get through things, see clearly. Or not as the case may have been.

"How long does it take to kick in?" I asked, even though I could already feel the curl of heat on the surface of my skin.

"Oh you'll know." Haymitch replied, offering the bottle to me so I could sip again. "You'll know."

I allowed my thoughts to drift as I watched the rushing countryside go by. Finally I was returning home – finally I would get to see the people I most cared about again, who I had been fighting for this entire time. I knew that when I saw them, a piece of me would be filled again, hopefully enough to pull me through and perhaps bring me back to reality. But then again, so many parts of me were still missing that I wasn't sure if that were possible. The gaping hole Blaine had left in my heart couldn't be plugged by anything – it ached for him. I missed him.

"How did you feel?" I asked suddenly, turning my head a little too quickly so for a second my vision blurred and I had to grab hold of the chair, "when you lost your girlfriend?" Haymitch's face scrunched up in pain. I knew it probably wasn't my place to bring up such things, but I wanted to know.

"I didn't feel anything." He replied, honestly. "It was like it hadn't happened. I expected her to just be there, that it had all been a dream. But it wasn't." I felt like that too. There were times I dreamed of Blaine – dreams so vivid I could swear they were real – him curled up against me, his soft black hair brushing against my face as we lay together. Then, I would open my eyes and panic, feel around for him in the darkness. But there was nothing. He was gone.

"It doesn't get any better, does it?" I asked, feeling the warmth of the alcohol flickering stronger in my belly, licking up the side of my body towards my head.

"No." Haymitch replied, almost smiling in a bitter way. "It gets worse."

Haymitch and I spent the majority of the journey home drunk. I knew this was the wrong thing to do – that I was destroying myself even further and should be preparing for what would be an intense couple of days. But I couldn't bring myself to. Haymitch understood my pain, so we sat in my room, drunkenly talking about things that had no real meaning, and some that meant almost too much to bear.

A few hours before we were due back at District 12, we were dragged separately from the room into a shower and scrubbed down, much to my protest. When I surfaced, I was given clothes to put on, clothes that still reeked of the Capitol, and afterwards told to convene in the dining carriage. When I finally entered it I saw Effie sitting at the table, lightly nibbling on a piece of celery.

As our eyes met I saw a mixture of things in them. First there was happiness, joy at seeing me again. Then there was worry, over my previous state, over how I was still a little hungover despite the miraculous cure someone had given me. Then, sadness.

"Sam!" She said cheerily, the same tone she had used consistently throughout my entire time knowing her. I walked over to the table, glancing over at the plethora of food. Despite nearly dying of hunger several times, I wasn't as eager to shove the delicacies in my mouth as most people would think. Actually the sight of this food repulsed me. I settled for an apple, biting into it and feeling the juices dribble down my chin.

"So, you and Haymitch have been having fun I see?" The distain in her voice was evident. I had always enjoyed the banter between my mentor and our so-called 'organiser' and this was no exception. I smiled, glancing back at her with a mouth full of fruit.

"Yes. Lots of fun." Now that I was eating again I realised how hungry I actually was, so picked up a piece of chicken and took a bite from it, not caring that I was mixing the wrong kind of flavours. The knife and fork by my plate lay untouched – I guessed it was going to take me a while to use those again. Glancing back at Effie I saw her trying to hide a grimace and smiled once more.

"We will be arriving at District 12 in just under an hour." Effie said, beginning what would obviously be my brief of proceedings. "As soon as you get off the train you will be required to make a speech. Then, you will publicly be reunited with your family.

My family.

I almost dropped the chicken I was eating. What would my family say if they saw me like this? Hungover, tearing at meat like an animal, dribbling everywhere? I may have felt like crap, but I wasn't going to look like it to them. No, I would sort myself out.

"Is there any water?" I asked suddenly. Effie seemed a little surprised at my request, but leant over and carefully picked up a jug of the clear liquid. I poured myself a glass and downed it in one, feeling the sloshing in my empty stomach as it mixed with the food I had just consumed.

"How much food can I eat?"

"As much as you want, Sam my dear." Effie replied, happiness suddenly spreading across her face. "But be careful – we don't want it coming up all over your new outfit now do we?" I picked a few more things off the table, now placing them carefully on my plate, and grasped hold of the knife and fork, hoping I wouldn't make a mess.

As the train drew up into the station suddenly my stomach was filled with something other than food. Butterflies. The last time I had been here we had been leaving – not knowing if we would ever see our families again. And now only I had returned. The train halted and immediately Effie rose to her feet. She had barely touched any of the food so looked pristine and immediately began reeling off a list of instructions to people that suddenly appeared from all corners of the room. I felt a little off balance, being twisted this way and that, but Haymitch appeared to make sense of it all.

"Come this way Sam." He said, waving me over. I moved, a gaggle of people following me as I did so, and when we joined up eyed him with concern.

"What's happening?" I asked. Haymitch clapped me hard on the shoulder.

"You're coming home."

It wasn't until I reached the outer doorway to the train that I heard it. The low rumble of chatter. For some reason I hadn't expected a large turnout – the crowds of the Capitol too grand for me to even fathom something like that back at my home District. But gradually I began to realise that this was something big – children would have been given days off school for this, miners would have come out of their underground holes. Everyone was here to see my return. When the doors finally opened I was met with them in full force.

It was funny. I didn't receive the screams and cheers of adoration the Capitol had given me. For a second I was a little disappointed, then I looked back at the hundreds of staring, amazed faces and realised. This wasn't adoration. This was respect.

"Hello!" Effie said cheerfully, suddenly by my side. I hadn't noticed her approach so jumped, causing a few people to laugh, but then I returned my attention to the crowds again. They stretched back further than the eye could see – much more than when I'd made the first journey from here. They were all here to see me, to congratulate me.

"Well come along, keep moving!" Suddenly I was ushered forward by Effie. Almost stumbling I managed eventually to regain the movement of my feet. I had been given funny Capitol shoes that were too shiny and pinched against my toes. I couldn't wait to be rid of all these things and back into the loose fitting clothes I wore to school. If I were ever to go back there of course. As I moved forward people parted to let me and my team pass. Nobody really said anything – there were whispers and murmurs amidst the crowd. But I received nods and smiles of appreciation. Effie led us forward, beaming at anyone who would tear themselves away from me to look at her, then I watched as she climbed the steps to the main stage. Christ. They still had the stage. The one I had been reaped on. Was this where I would make my address? I didn't think I could do it, I didn't think I could go up there again. Suddenly Haymitch was beside me. Obviously noticing my distress, he had picked up his walking pace and now stepped in sync with me.

"This is the last time you have to pretend." He murmured, too quietly for anyone else to hear, but loud enough that I would. "For a long time, this is the last time you have to pretend that you're ok." I nodded, gritting my teeth together and curling my fists into balls. As my foot hit the first step I closed my eyes, rather like I had when the platform had risen and I'd been revealed to thousands upon thousands of adoring Capitol fans. Now it was my people, my family. My feet shakily moved me up, until there was nothing left to step onto. Then I heard the announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you're winner of the 74th Hunger Games – Sam Evans!"