The Undeserving Victor

by Wildmagic-Warrior

Haymitch Abernathy wasn't always a drunk. He wasn't always a pessimist, either. But being in the arena, living through that hell, it does things to you. Changes you. Makes you something you never thought you'd be. This is the story of a man who was so much less than a man, and the people- the person- who helped him to survive.

14. Haircut

"No! No, Effie, stop it, I don't want to-"

"Haymitch Abernathy, sit still and stop being such a baby! It's just a haircut." The shorter woman shoved him back into the chair and came at him once again with her scissors. The mentor tried to squirm away, but Effie locked her hand around his shoulder and snapped, "You can let me cut your hair or you can wiggle until I accidentally stab out your eye."

Haymitch let out an angry sigh and slouched forward. The escort's grip tightened, forcing him to sit up straight.

Snip, snip, snip, snip, snip.

"There," said Effie, voice smug as she let the man go. "Isn't that better?"

"No," muttered the mentor petulantly, looking himself over in the mirror. "It's too short."

"At least I didn't shave you bald," Effie quipped with a slight smile, putting the scissors back into her makeup bag.

Haymitch stuck his tongue out at the woman, but her back was turned and she didn't see.