Author's Note: 3.29.2015 - Gosh, I'm sorry, guys. I'm so busy at school. But here's Chapter 7! Chapter 8 will be where this story gets interesting. ;)
Chapter Seven
A few moments pass and Haymitch and I separate from the hug. He's agreed to help me, that much is for certain, but I can't fathom how long that will last.
He promised to keep Peeta alive over me during the events of the Quarter Quell and he couldn't even do that. Then again, it was sort of my fault too. I push the thought from my mind. Even though Peeta is alive today, Haymitch lied to me and betrayed me and broke his promise. He was on the outside looking in during the Quarter Quell and Peeta and I were the ones in the arena, stranded and only able to count on each other against a group of supposed allies whom I didn't even halfway trust.
We were the ones in constant danger, whereas Haymitch was probably sulking in a drunken stupor, watching the Games from a TV safe somewhere. He and Plutarch took all the time in the world to try and convince others to join the cause that would lead to the rebellion and keep Peeta and I from knowing about it... and yet he couldn't secure our safety. He couldn't tell us, he claims, or otherwise President Snow would have found out. Even if he couldn't have done that, he could have at least used our fictional baby to sway viewers, curb the Capitol's cruelty in the Games toward us, and allowed us to play out the act like in the first Games, like a good mentor would've.
We could have gotten food, weapons, and most of all, we could have stayed together. We could have left the arena together. Peeta wouldn't be nearly as screwed up as he is now. He would never have been hijacked, never would have been damaged to the point of near-irreparability. He and I could've lived in District 13 together and we would've fared it together. It was hard enough for me to agree to be the Mockingjay in the first place but his presence at my side would've made the choice much easier. I would've done it for him, for whatever future we were supposed to have together.
Everything I did... I did for him. For my love. For Peeta.
I feel so lied to and used. Why should I put my trust in Haymitch? He can't even keep a promise, bottle of alcohol in him or not.
"Hold out your hand." Haymitch tells me.
"What?" I ask.
Not knowing what he's up to, I shake my head. "No."
"Just do it." He insists gently.
I extend my arm, wary of the swarm of geese surrounding us. I've only ever hunted birds like these let alone fed them. Haymitch places a handful of what appears to be a mix of coarse, gritty seeds and tiny bits of bread in my palm and I have to hold back any words of protest from slipping out of my mouth now.
"Go on." He motions toward the geese pecking at the ground with one quick swing of his elbow. "It's for them."
I glance at him hesitantly and hold out my hand to them, trying to control the visible shaking.
"No." I want to scream at him but I don't want to frighten the birds surrounding us and so I force my voice to remain quiet, level even. I furiously shake my head, reinforcing my refusal.
"Come on."
"No!" I repeat more forcefully, wanting to chuck the feed at him.
"You're so stubborn!" Haymitch huffs impatiently. "Just listen to me and feed them. They won't hurt you."
"Why do you want me to do this!" I bark at him, narrowing eyes in his direction. My reply comes out of my mouth as more of a command than a question.
"I'm doing this because you have to start trusting me. You also have to listen to me if you want me to help you." He takes another handful of feed and holds it out to the geese who have no problem rushing over to him and devouring the feed right out of his hand. He doesn't even flinch, but I do, and I watch in amazement at his calm demeanor.
"All right..." My reply is barely a whisper as it escapes my lungs.
One goose off to my left notices my hand and immediately waddles hurriedly toward me, craning his neck and plunging its beak into my hand. I sit there terrified and unmoving. The bird's beak nips my palm and I almost exclaim in pain but I catch a glimpse of Haymitch's current expression. He's sitting there silently observing and shakes his head. I cover my mouth, the pain of the pinching sensation of the goose inadvertently biting my palm driving me crazy. I have to keep my hand steady and level until the bird finishes off the food and watch as it waddles away.
"What are you so afraid of?"
"I don't… I don't like geese." I huff at him.
He responds quietly. "Uh huh."
"I hunt them, Haymitch."
"Well, all right, but if you hunt any one of my geese, we're going to have a problem."
"I won't hunt them. It isn't worth the trouble."
"You know, sweetheart, I used to think the same thing about you."
"Thanks."
"I know I was a major jerk to you when we first met… but that isn't the way I feel about you…"
"Save the sentimental stuff, Haymitch. I can't handle it right now."
"You don't like anything nice that anyone has to say to you. I don't know why I bother."
"I'm sorry."
"No. No, you're not. You're still the same after all this time. You mope around here like you did in 13. When are you going to realize other people care about you and when are you going to let them in again? Huh? You can't keep pushing people away. You have to tackle this depression- this PTSD- whatever this is- head on- you can't live like this anymore. I agreed to help you get better, and I won't give up on you. Do you understand me?"
"Yes."
"You can't push me away, Katniss. I won't allow you to. You need someone to help you because we all know we're both the most screwed up around here. We need each other to lean on."
"All right."
"All right... Now is there anything else you would like to tell me? Any thoughts of yours, any feelings, news, what have you- anything you'd like to get off your chest?"
I raise my head and take delight in thinking of what his reaction will be since he doesn't know anything about what I'm about to tell him. "Effie's coming to visit."
Haymitch freezes, looks to me, and drops a handful of feed to the ground.
Effie and Haymitch.
They're a dangerous combination.
Somehow I have to keep them apart... or at the very least not let them kill each other. That'll be quite a task. I survived two different Hunger Games but neither of them has prepared me for this. I might as well be going back into the arena at this point. At least that would be a familiar experience. I think I'd rather get stung on the inside of my throat by tracker jackers and suffocate to death from the sores swelling rather than babysit these two.
"Come on, Haymitch." I tell him as I rise to my feet. "We should go get something to eat. Let's go to the square."
"Right behind you." He gets to his feet beside me. He then throws the rest of the contents of the bag to the frigid ground and stuffs the bag into the pocket of his coat. The geese swarm around us honking and pushing each other out of the way, and pecking each other, a flurry of feathers in the chilly afternoon air. "Where to in the square, sweetheart?"
"To the trading post near where the Hob used to be. Greasy Sae has some food for us, I'm sure."
"All right. Let's go."
We begin walking parallel to the houses off in the distance and silence surrounds us. Haymitch has never been one for prolonged conversation and my mind begins to wander with all the possible outcomes of this promise he has just made me. I know he means it when he says he'll help me but I can't help but feel scared anyway.
I don't voice these thoughts because I know where it'll land me.
I'm just not sure if I can ever shake this feeling of foreboding. It's odd. Peeta and I spent all that time acting for the Capitol, for President Snow, and the districts... it was difficult and somehow we pulled it off but now that we have an actual life to build together, everything seems impossible. Like I would still be acting if I said I loved him. Nothing would seem genuine. At all.
But I did love him after the war ended. I did. We were so happy together. We each understood just how screwed up the other was.
Then everything changed.
What happened to it? I think to myself. How did I lose it?
It was like I was hijacked, like I went through some of the horrific things poor Peeta endured in the Capitol.
I desperately hope my love for Peeta is just buried under confusion like Haymitch said it might be. Otherwise... otherwise this all might have just been a huge waste of time. If I don't truly love him, if I can't prove to myself that I do, if it doesn't come back and I get myself straightened out... I would just be better off moving on with my life. He deserves someone that will truly love him and make him happy instead of freak out on him and cause him pain and misery like I do.
I walk side by side with Haymitch toward the square, the frozen grass crunching beneath our feet, and I try to put my mind at ease even just for the time being. The square looms closer and closer with every one of our steps and my heart sinks even more when I see people all around us when we enter the center of the square. My feet come in contact with the cobblestone, the rough surface a sudden departure from the crunching soft grass, and I feel the stares of the passersby boring into my body on all sides. I know what they're thinking. I decide to ignore them.
"It's Katniss!"
"Look! Katniss Everdeen!"
"Mommy, Mommy, it's the Mockingjay!"
"What is she doing outside of Victors' Village?"
"She hunts the best game I've ever tasted!"
"I heard she's a mute! The war screwed her up so badly she doesn't talk to anyone."
I hear them loud and clear but I pretend not to. It's nothing I've never heard before. What they don't know certainly won't hurt them. They fear me, or so it seems, and that makes me somewhat glad since it probably means I won't have to interact with very many people while I'm out and about today. I haven't ever done anything since the war to make myself look bad so I figure I should just take what they say and whisper about me with a grain of salt.
Off to the right is the alley that leads to the trading post and Haymitch follows right behind me as a part forms in the sea of people around us. People nearly scramble out of the way at the sight of me, allowing a decent amount of space on either side of us for the two of us to pass. There's whispers, some gasps, and a few of the children with their parents attempt to follow me but they're pulled away at the last second. I pretend like they're not even there. They may as well just be trees on either side of me that squirrels whose trunks squirrels scale up and down and deer and other prey animals hide behind, running at the change in scent on the wind.
Whatever I can tell myself to ignore the stares works and makes it easier to press on through the alley until I catch a whiff of the smell of some kind of stew. Off to the left is a large area, in what used to be a warehouse, is the trading post. It looks similar to what the Hob used to look like but the ceiling is much higher and there is a second level, a loft looking down to the first level, that's solely devoted the sale of crops. It seems to be packed at the moment but I remind myself I'm here for the back part of the trading post, the back end where Greasy Sae slaves over her pot on the fire day and night like she always used to at the Hob.
Just like in the square, people stare, whisper, and move very quickly out of the way when Haymitch and I enter. Nevertheless I press on through the dingy light of the building, pass the strong aroma of leather and polish, pass various children that play tag and completely ignore me, weaving past me they squeal in delight and laugh. People to the right of me clamor over various trinkets and hanging things, beads of all sorts, necklaces, bracelets and precious jewels in bins and nets, most likely brought in on the train from the various districts and the Capitol itself. To my left are all kinds of vendors selling knives, crossbows, bows, arrows, and trapping mechanisms.
Traps. I immediately think of Gale.
I remember why I can never think of him in a positive way ever again, why we went our separate ways.
Shoot straight. His last words to me echo in my already congested mind.
Prim's face flashes before my eyes.
Immediately I feel the heat of the blast of District 13's bombs and I have to close my eyes as I continue walking to prevent tears from forming in them. Then I see the flash of fire that ignited Prim's body and ended her young life. I stop, unable to block out anything else. I open my eyes and I realize that Haymitch and I stand only several feet away from Greasy Sae's stall where she's busy trying to stoke a small fire under her black stew pot. It seems the whispers around us have gained her attention too because she immediately stands up, places the metal spoon in her hand on the counter, and whips around on her heel. She faces my direction, looks around, spots me, and smiles.
"Katniss!" She cries. "Wonderful to see you."
"Hello, Sae."
"I'm glad you're here! I just made stew out of the..." She rattles on until she sees Haymitch and she begins to trail off. She always told me she refers to every piece of game I bring her "beef" but I know she's trying to indicate the deer I brought her yesterday. "... Mr. Abernathy. Hello."
"Hello." Haymitch stops beside me and nods to her. In all of his years of living in District 12, it's strange to me that these two have never met before. "You can just call me Haymitch."
"What can I do for you today?"
"We'll have some of that beef stew you've made." I tell Sae, winking, causing her to smile. I turn to Haymitch who's facing off to the left to the many rows of clear bottles containing all kinds of different liquors. I don't have to guess what he wants with his soup. "Is that all right with you?"
He reaches over to the bottles and selects two large ones. "Yep. Fine with me." He looks to Sae. "These two for me too, please."
"Coming right up." Sae tells me.
She turns away, snatches up two bowls from the counter next to her, and goes to the stew pot.
I place a handful of money on the counter before I glance at Haymitch.
"Is that really necessary?"
He looks at me and seems somewhat embarrassed. "What? This is my way of beginning to help you. Let me have my liquor. Don't question my methods and we won't have an issue, sweetheart." He takes one of the bottles and tucks it under his arm, unscrewing the lid from the other one. "Once I'm all loose and drunk, I'll help you deal with Peeta."
I roll my eyes. "It wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary."
Haymitch only smirks at me.
:) Hope you all enjoyed! .|||.
