The summer had passed into the dead of autumn far too soon for his liking. The trees that had, this time last week, been stunning, covered in bright green lively leaves, were now full of crackled ones, reds and yellows and oranges that looked too much like the fire that had caused him to be here; at this triple funeral, seeing as they couldn't afford to have three separate ones.

He should've known that the Capitol was going to try and get him back for how he had made them look when he had won the Games. He should've known they weren't just going to let it all slide off the plate; he should've known that they were going to come after him. But it was just so ruthless and horrendous and if they had been trying to punish him, they were welcome to come and kill him. But no, no, killing his family would hurt a hell of a lot more.

There were nearly five hundred people surrounding him, all offering their sympathies seeing as there was no one else to give them to. He didn't want them – he didn't want people to feel sorry for him, and he didn't want people to pity him anymore than they had when he had come home from the Games.

He hadn't been home or remotely near home in two weeks; he had just been sleeping in the woods, shivering in the night at the raucous memories he relived every second - the faces that appeared in his mind; those two Careers, Gabriella, his mum, his brother, and Noe. The people he had killed, and although he hadn't directly killed her, Maysilee made some appearances in his nightmares as well, yelling at him for abandoning her in the arena, alongside the shrieks of his family as they burnt alive, human torches, when the house exploded in flames. He remembered, with a shudder flooring through the whole length of his spine, that distraught moment when the house had erupted into a vicious babble of fire…

The explosion had knocked him backwards off the fence and sent him hurtling into a tree which severely winded him. The bottle of whiskey had shattered, but the other had fallen into a pile of mud. He quickly set it aside and sprinted towards the house, leaping over the two metre high barbed wire. The heat ravaging the whole building was intense, and he felt his skin bubbling like the least dense liquid in the whole of Panem. He could feel blisters forming on his hands, but he had faced worse pains inside the arena.

Without a second thought, he burst into the house, dodging the plinths of wood burning above his head that could fall at any second and either crush him or set him alight; just another piece of coal collected from the mines and distributed to the Capitol. Just worthless. Haymitch jogged through the house, blocking his nose and mouth with his shirt to prevent his frantic coughs as he tried to manoeuvre around the flames. They leapt up all around him, like the great dancing fire mutts he had encountered once before, and a black acrid smoke was billowing through the shackle of the house.

The windows had all been blown out by the explosion, and the house was just one pillar from just collapsing and flattening everyone to a crisp. There was only one thing that could've caused this kind of damage: fire bombs. And guess who had exclusive access to them? Bay had been right – the Capitol was coming after him. This fuelled him with rage, and when he caught sight of his brother, only nine years old, Haymitch let his shirt fall from his grip and he ran through the flames, licking at his skin, and scooped the little boy into his arms, running back through the blazing house. He left him outside, unconscious from the fumes, knowing he was going to have to go back inside for both his mother…and Noe.

Haymitch watched, feeling his heart contracting and squeezing tightly, as three people carefully deposited his brother's body into the ground. He looked older in death than he ever had in life. The young boyish innocence was vanished. His deep brown hair was splayed with ashes and strands of tousled locks had been completely burnt away. His cheeks were still black with dust, and the burn all up his arm was not healing. Now it never would.

He had died from smoke inhalation. Despite Haymitch having dragged him from the building, the second explosion had sent his unresponsive body hurtling into the barbed wire just a few metres away. But he had been dead before his big brother had salvaged him from the building, so maybe it wasn't too bad.

His brother was like him in the way he looked, but in spirit, he was completely different. He hardly spoke, something called a 'mental Avox' caused by trauma, which must've been the death of their father all those years back. He had been bullied at school because of it, and he had been a traumatised child. But when he was happy, that nine year old, then hook him up to the mains electricity supply because he could light up the whole Capitol if he had the opportunity. But all gone now. His brother, the person he wanted to do well and be happy; now hopefully happy wherever he had come to be.

He took but a few seconds to recover before he saw the second Capitol helicopter hovering over his home. His voice was raw and damaged, his throat burned and scorched, but he still managed to let out a cry of horror before they dropped the second fire bomb. It fell before Haymitch could register it, and, as a result, he was once again sent flying off his feet. This landing was far worse than before, having been closer to the attack, and for the first time, Haymitch thought about Bay. But his house was okay, the fire hadn't yet spread that far although it had set the two nearest homes ablaze, making the whole Victor's Village a place of complete danger and travesty. That wasn't going to stop him though.

Not thinking about himself yet again, Haymitch leapt through the front door, just as the final splint crumbled into ashes and the house came tumbling down upon him. The wooden door frame came crashing down upon him and smacked him on the shoulder, forcing him to his knees and a huge gash to appear on his skin, seeping blood all done his arm. He coughed loudly, pounding his fists on the smoking ground as he let the toxins from his body. It didn't matter though, he had to find his mother. And he did…lying buried underneath a wall of bricks that had collapsed on top of her, a small trail if blood seeping out…

The death of his mother had crushed him. She had been his rock, the person he went to if he was hurting or had hurt someone else. She was the one who looked after the family, struggled on as the death of her husband and his father crippled them. She did everything she could to bring the money back in, to try and fill up the hole left in their family when dear daddy died.

He couldn't even look when she was lowered into her plot in the cemetery. Apparently, her body had been remoulded beyond recognition by the bricks that had fallen on top of her, killing her immediately. At least it had been quicker for her, even though he couldn't think of a worse way to die – save, maybe, being torn apart inside the arena with the whole of Panem watching them. He shook violently, and he could not stop his hands quivering as a weak Bay clasped his hand on his shoulder and gently did his best to comfort Haymitch as he lost yet another member of his family to the earth.

Every single person stared at him intently as the last body started the process of being buried. This was possibly going to be the most tormenting of goodbyes, one that caused a spring of tears to appear in every mourner's eyes, except, perhaps, the boy who had been affected the most.

He stood in shock, staring at what was remaining to be seen of his mother, and remained rooted to the spot before part of the bedroom upstairs collapsed down right next to him, alerting him to the fact that Noe was still in here. She was probably already dead, and although his feelings towards her were not the most positive at the moment, he would never forgive himself if he didn't find her and she was still alive.

Haymitch struggled through the rest of the house, jumping aside when other parts of the building fell next to him, and when almost the whole house was just flattened, burning wood splayed across the landscape, he finally caught sight of her right next to the front window. And believe him when he said Noe didn't look good. He rushed over, praying that his ideas were about to be scuppered, but as he dropped down to knees beside her, he knew this was bound to go wrong.

Noe had been standing next to the window when he has passed, and she had evidently still been there when the first bomb had exploded. A piece of glass, large, around four inches by three was stuck in her throat, embedded deep into her skin, and she was rasping trying to breath, coughing up blood all the while. Her pale cheeks were splashed with the crimson liquid, and a large bruise was accumulating across her hairline.

Her frenzied eyes caught hold of his, and she grasped his hand, her whole body trembling and shaking, and she couldn't stop herself. He brushed her hair back with his hand, steadying himself and trying not to throw up. The flames were not so bad this very front part of the house, but he couldn't stay long. But he couldn't move her – that glass was in a precarious position as it was.

'Haymitch, I'm so sorry,' she gasped, her lips turning bluer and bluer as the glass began to asphyxiate her. He tried to shush her, telling her that he forgave her and it was okay, because in all honesty what else could he say to her? 'Noe, it's okay. You're going to be fine,' he whispered, scanning the glass, trying to alleviate the pressure it was having on her vocal chords and oesophagus. She winced in agony, and he set his hands on her wrists by the floor, and she gently nodded her head and replied, 'No, no I'm not. You know I'm not.'

She coughed from the fumes, and a huge splatter of blood emerged from her mouth and splashed across her face. 'I was only here because…' Noe began hoarsely, but Haymitch begged her not to talk, not to put her into any more pain than was, but she was persistent and continued. 'I was here to say sorry. I was so stupid.' He shook his head, brushing his hands over her cheeks, wiping away her wet blood from her face, but Noe hastened on, her breathing beginning to falter. 'I love you Haymitch. Just don't forget me.'

'I won't Noe, I can't forget you. I promise,' he replied, and she looked less distraught, but still restraining how much pain she was in. He sat with her whilst the house blazed and burned and crashed to the ground, but they were protected, inside an invisible bubble. Her eyes closed involuntarily, and her breathing began desperate gasps for air. She was almost gone. He squeezed her hand even tighter, resisting the urge to beg her not to die. 'I love you,' he whispered, and a ghost of a smile appeared on her lips, and she opened her eyes to reply, before her heart stop beating and she stopped breathing for the last time, still looking up at him, her Victor.

When Noe's body was in the patch reserved for her, Haymitch finally accepted now was the time to say goodbye. Before they began shovelling the dirt on the bodies, burying them underground forever, Haymitch stepped forward and whilst the cemetery had been quiet before, now it was as silent as the grave. He kept walking until he reached the podium, and he put on a strong and calm demeanour before beginning.

'Thank you all for coming,' was all he could say, and he cleared his throat before just managing to stutter out, 'It means a lot that you all care.' He couldn't do any better than that. Instead of continuing, Haymitch, as a young sixteen year old boy, tortured by the world, raised his left hand to his lips, pressed his middle three fingers to them and then raised them out into the crowd. And row by row, every person in the five hundred strong crowd did the same, saying their last respects to his mother, his brother, and Noe.

And Haymitch Abernathy shed a single tear, because that's the most he ever could.