Another quick update, to make up for leaving it to choke for several months.

Chapter 6: Would you believe…?

"HAYMITCH DARLING!" shouted Prisindia. "I've missed you!"

I hide a grimace. Definitely NOT the person I wanted to run into after being the opposite of Cupid.

"C'mere honeysugarpie" she cooed, wrapping her arms around me.

"Buzz off, Prisindia!" I snarl.

"C'mon Haymitch deary. You're not nearly as fun sober" she pouts.

"Sure, whatever" I say, shaking her off roughly. Maybe a bit too roughly, but hey, cut me some slack, I've been going for a good two hours without a lot of alcohol in my system. I'm severely hung over.

I stomp off down the hallway, managing to track the bits of remaining mud off my boots and onto the blood-red carpet with a gold-leaf swirl pattern running through the middle. Hrmph. I liked my simpler rugs back in my house.

I spent the rest of the night trying to drink myself silly, so I wouldn't have to focus on what I had been doing and what I still had yet to do. Ruining those kids' feelings toward one another was callous, some might even say sadistic. But it was something that had to be done if I wanted to get one of them out alive. Keeping up the façade of a loving relationship while destroying any real feelings would not only pull in sponsers, but it would also increase the chances that one or the other would manage to possibly make it to the final eight.

Around my fifth bottle of raw alcohol, I could barely keep standing, let alone manage to walk back to my room. The bartender was used to it by now though, and he rolled his eyes and sent one of the waiters to escort me back to my room. I remember stumbling in, hearing the door slam behind me, then pitching face-first down on the bed and everything going completely dark.

I sighed. We were halfway through the first day of training and already things weren't looking too good.

I had managed to pick a fight with the District 5 boy over a sword on the weapons rack, and then we both got put on the sidelines to "cool down" for a quarter-hour or so, only to rejoin the trainers to find that someone else had taken the sword-fighting station ALONG with the sword I had been practicing with.

I glance up at the boy from District 11, who was at the archery station with me. He was actually pretty good, managing to out-do me and everyone else who tried shooting. He was a dark, brooding fellow with a strong jaw and a short, jagged scar on his left cheek. The only one who came close was his twin sister. I realized with horror that neither of their family would be leaving alive if everything I hoped for transpired. The thought made me break out in a sweat, with beads of it running down my face and leaving little tracks in the dirt that accumulated there during the camouflage station.

Fortunately, the District 11 boy didn't notice that I was hardly even close to breathing heavily or any of the other signs of a physical workout; that my reaction was from inner turmoil.

Stepping away from the archery station, I glance around and see the District 7 boy working at the knots training station. I briefly consider going over there, but decide against it, and then look around the training center for Melissa. I spot her over next to some chairs, leaning on her hand against the wall, talking to Finnick and some other Careers. I decide not to go over and talk.

"No sense making things harder on her than they already are." I mull.

"Hey, kid, come over here!" someone shouts at me from across the room.

Oh great, what did this guy want?

I walk purposefully over to the man and stare down at him.

"Yes?" I smirk

"I-I…I have this message for you from Haymitch. Here!" he says, shoving it at me and quickly walking away, throwing a quick glance over his right shoulder as he distances himself from me.

"Wonder what this could be." I mutter out loud.

"Bet it's something inane" I predict.

I rip open the envelope and unfold the cream-colored paper.

As I read, my brow gets more furrowed and my fingers tighten into fists until I've practically ripped the note in half. This can't be right. IT CAN'T BE.

See, sonnyboy? She's already avoiding you and cuddling up to the Careers. Is what I said before finally getting through to you? She doesn't care anymore; she already gave up on you for Finnick. Think about who should get out alive. Would you believe it now? Should it really be someone that abandons you for others as soon as she can?

Signed: Haymitch

I rip the note into tiny pieces and violently throw them into the blued metal trash can placed in the corner.

This can't be happening. But it is. I stalk off the training room floor, heading for the elevator to the District 12 floor. Haymitch and I are going to be having a LONG talk about this.

I can hardly breath, talking to these Careers like this. But Haymitch did say to buddy up with them, so I'm giving it my best shot. Well, I was until I saw Matt stomp off after receiving and reading some note.
I think back to what Haymitch also told me, and wonder if maybe my allies in these games SHOULD be the Careers. They're strong, powerful, and intimidating. Ditching and running seems like a good strategy IF I wanted to have a chance at winning. Which I don't really want…do I? I don't even know anymore

"…And that's how I managed to win the competition to get into these games." finishes Finnick.

"Finnick.." I start

"Finn. Just call me Finn."

I blush. "Alright, Finn, I have to go now. Mentor stuff ya know."

I wink at him, and I think I catch him winking back before I turn and head towards the elevator.

I punch the button for our floor, but the elevator is slow in arriving, so I busy myself by looking at an abstract piece of art painted in neon colors; mainly pink and green. It's disgusting, but I have to do something while I wait, don't I?

The elevator finally arrives and I hop in, riding it to the District 12 floor. What I hear upon exiting shocks me enough that I have to catch myself against the wall before I slump to the floor. Matt and Haymitch are arguing over…me.