I can assure you, Katniss certainly didn't feel loved, she nearly killed Peeta, afterwards. I decided Haymitch had to learn a lesson for keeping me out of his plans for my Tributes and i do not speak to him. This leads to him banging on my door, drunk one night. "Efffffie!" He shouts "Go away Haymitch" I shout back "Effie you walking corset answer me" "Haymitch you drunk, I have answered you and I requested you leave me alone!" He gets more and more aggressive and starts to shout unspeakable things, some I don't even understand, but I know that they are disgusting. I do not like to admit it, but they hurt me so badly it felt physical. The next day I barely talk to anyone and avoid eye contact with Haymitch, who is suffering from a long hangover. Good, I think. He deserves to feel horrible. He should regret every single thing he had said to me the previous night. Katniss and Peeta seem to be on speaking terms. Did I mention that Katniss had nearly killed Peeta after the interview, she was so furious that it took Haymitch to restrain her from doing anything stupid. On the agenda today, Training. From now and until the Games begin, I am not needed for anything more than making sure my Tributes are on time. Haymitch however has to pull his socks up. He has to give them tips on survival, training and making allies. He also has to talk to Sponsors. However, he is not conveying a very promising attitude. The responsibility of keeping Katniss' and Peeta's spirits high mainly rests on him. I have done my bit. I take a seat at the table across from Haymitch. I watch him swirl the liquid in a mug round and round, his eyes bloodshot. I shake my head disapprovingly. "What are you shaking your head at, Sweetheart?" Haymitch hisses. Katniss snaps her head up "I wasn't…" I cut her off, she was obviously thinking Haymitch was addressing her. "I was shaking my head at you" I say steadily. "Why, don't tell me you are disappointed?" Katniss and Peeta abruptly leave the room, I don't watch them go, I keep my eyes on Haymitch, though he is still staring at his mug. "Actually I am, Haymitch. You need to pull yourself together. Look at yourself" I say "Don't patronise me. Have you even seen yourself? Always dressed up in your horrible dresses and dreadful wigs…" He stops when he looks up. Since I don't have to be seen in public, I hadn't bothered wearing a wig, nor a lot of make-up. Haymitch looks me up and down. "Is this supposed to be 'the new you'?" He asks mockingly, and that comment starts me off. "Shut up Haymitch, just shut up! You need to stop this moping around all the time. Those kids need you, need us to be behind them through this okay. There is something about them that I believe in so you need to grow up, got it?!" I shout, raggedly. Haymitch begins to smile, which is unnerving, "Have I ever told you how attractive it is when you shout, Sweetheart?" He says. I sigh and slump into a chair, "Don't even start that. We can't afford to keep arguing, you're going to get me fired" "Who could fire you, Sweetheart?" Haymitch grins "Seriously though, Haymitch, one day someone is going to witness one of our fights and report us" I say. "Don't worry, perhaps this will be our last year of working together, those two have potential" I feel myself tear up, the thought of either Peeta or Katniss dying is too horrible. "Oh Sweetheart, we'll still keep in contact, we won't miss each other too much" Haymitch tries to be funny, but somehow he sounds depressed, thinking the same thoughts as me. He stands to leave the room, walking bare foot across the marble floor. Before he leaves he turns back and puts his hand on my shoulder, "You're doing great Effie" Is all he says and then walks out. I wasn't the only one apparently doing great; Haymitch manages to get Katniss and Peeta through the final part of their training. I didn't sleep well the night before. I sit on the edge of my bed, it is only maybe 6am, but my body is anxious, my brain continuously going over the dreaded thoughts: either Peeta and Katniss both die, or one comes out alive meaning I may never see Haymitch again. I should be opting for the second option with all my heart, but both options seem so horrible that there is a physical pain in my heart. Someone is squeezing my chest so tightly that it is blocking my air supply. The mirror opposite my bed contains a reflection I do not recognise. I am pale and tired. I should have gotten married and forgot about this job, forget about the people involved with it. Haymitch, his name replays in my head over and over every day. His face flashes before I sleep, in my dreams. Surely, surely I do not feel anything for him. I cannot feel anything for him. Yet, the idea of him surges a wave of electricity through my body. Lately there has been too much on my mind to focus on these feelings, but now, hours before the games begin with nothing left on my part to do, I must confront them. I fall back onto my bed for the hundredth time, my eyes following the tiny specs of dust dancing in the air, a streak of dawn's sunlight lighting their way. I take a deep breath, ready to confront myself when I hear a bang. I sit up straight away, staying as quiet as I can. The noise maker cursers, Haymitch. Grabbing my bath robe, I head to the door. "Haymitch, what on earth are you doing?" I ask as I scan the hallway. Haymitch is dressed, quite finely compared to his usual outfits I may add, looking down on a broken vase. A dozen white roses spill around the mosaic of glass, a wet note adjacent to them. "An Avox gave me these, I'm assuming they're for you" Haymitch grunts. "Why would they be for me?" I ask, putting my hand to my chest, slightly hoping that they were for me. There is nothing sweeter than receiving flowers, but roses, roses are special. Haymitch smirks and picks up the note- Effie Trinket "No other person has such a ridiculous name." Haymitch says handing me the note, "Says Haymitch Abernathy…" "So pleasant in the morning aren't we?" Haymitch bends down to pick up the roses, he gathers them into a bunch and pushes them toward me, "from your secret admirer" It was supposed to sound like a joke, but it came out harsh and something flashed in his eyes when he too realised how bitter he had sounded, "You should get some sleep, it's going to be a rough day, Sweetheart" He says, and then slips into his own room, leaving behind the broken pieces. I open the note carefully as soon as I get back into my room. The note is barely damaged, my name written in fine ink. Carefully I unfold the envelope, and take out the note. It slips from my grasp as soon as I read it: Think carefully Miss Trinket, we do not mix with their kind. President Snow