A/N: Hi! Welcome back! :) Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, its plot, characters or world because I am not Suzanne Collins. :(
It's In The Past.
She keeps them all under her bed, in box she's locked with a key. Nobody has ever seen the content of this box. They've seen it, many times. But not once have they seen the content. So when she's busy, she hardly notices that her key is gone. The key she keeps around her neck is missing.
He, meanwhile, is in her room, determined to find out exactly what she's hiding in that box and its secrets. He needs to know. He suspects it could be anything from pictures of her as a young child, her and an ex she was never too keen to mention, a possible miscarried or aborted or adopted child of hers, her parents, her siblings, her grandparents or maybe she's a jewel thief. Anything could be possible. He never would know. So he sneaks in and pulls her box out. He hesitates, wondering if he should invade her privacy like this. Curiosity beats him to the punch. He unlocks the box and lifts the lid. Inside are magazines, photographs, award certificates, newspaper clippings and letters. He lifts a newspaper clipping and unfolds it, wondering what it is. He sees a picture of her smiling, wearing some monstrosity of a dress and heels, striking a pose for the camera. It's an announcement of her retirement and transition. "She was a model?" he whispers, amazed.
He lifts a magazine and is reading an interview with her and watching her poses when a high-pitched voice asks "What do you think you're doing?"
He looks up, shocked and ashamed of himself as he meets the stunned gaze of this same woman. "Effie," he greets and he winces to hear his own guilt and see her glare. "I was-"
He falters under the glare that would have had him lay on the floor dead, were looks able to kill. "I can see what you're doing, Haymitch Abernathy. And I will thank you to put that back, along with the newspaper clipping. There is a reason all of this is locked away," she tells him, her voice like a knife, cold, sharp and unforgiving.
"Why'd you stop?" he asks, curiously.
"It's in the past," she deflects coldly. "Just put my things back and forget everything you saw."
"Not a chance," he tells her, putting her things back and locking them away. He pushes it back under her bed, stands and gives her the key back.
"Thank you. Please don't tell anyone else. I've tried to leave it behind me and it's only just died out," she tells him, her eyes almost pleading under the heavy blue glitter lashes she's wearing.
He nods. "It doesn't leave this room," he promises, nodding at her as he moves past her to leave. As he grabs the door handle, he looks back at her. "For what it's worth, Effie, you're still pretty enough to model."
He leaves before she can respond. She stands in silence before allowing a small smile to appear on her lips. Some things would never leave that room. And for that, she was truly grateful.