Disclaimer: I had way to much fun writing this chapter.
About a day before our prep teams and stylists come to re-make us, Gale says that he wants to talk to my father about something.
It stings because I haven't talked to him since before my mothers death.
"Why?"
"I just need to talk to him." He says simply.
I shrug. "Okay, but I don't know where he'll be. I haven't seen him in a while."
I turn on the back porch to watch the snow fall onto the already snow-littered ground. Gale leaves me be and leaves.
That's when I decide that I need to do something. I need to go visit my mother.
I hadn't mustered up the courage to yet because I was afraid that I would breakdown and hurt myself, but I know I'll have to someday. And today's gonna be that day.
After I change into my jacket and pants, I trudge into the snow, pulling on the knit cap my dad got me one year. I hadn't like it much then, but now, in the below freezing weather, it's pretty nice to have something covering my ears.
I can hardly see my way to the graveyard, but I know it by heart. Once there, I walk to her grave like I have been going for years, even though this is the first day. Shea buried next to my aunt.
Oh, how that hurts.
I kneel down next the grave marker and run my fingers over the freshly ingrates words. 'Maryland Donner Undersee. A loving mother, wife, and sister.'
Even looking at the words makes me want to cry, but I know I have to remain strong for her. I pull my knees up to my chest and speak in a strangled voice.
"Hey, Mom. You used to love this time of year. My earliest memory of you is the two of us sitting by the fire in our house just talking and drinking hot chocolate. You told me something that day, something that I didn't come to understand recently. You told me that you were going through a hard time in your life and several mountains in front of you. You said that the only way to get over the mountains was to keep climbing and holding your head high. I didn't get it. But now I do. It means that every person has problems in front of them, and the only way to move on, is to climb over them. Even if you have problems, it doesn't mean you should give up."
"By turning down President Snow, I essentially killed you. And I'm sorry. So sorry." My voice breaks. "I know I wasn't the best daughter ever, but I tried. I tried so hard to help you. And all I ended up doing was killing you. I'm sorry."
"I don't know if you really knew who I was when I sat by your bed, or when I helped you with the morphling. But I knew who you were. You were my mom, and I loved you. I don't care if you didn't know who I was, because I Love you."
As I talk it feels as if a ginormous pressure in my chest is ebbing away slowly, becoming nothing more than a small mountain that I will have no problem getting over.
When I'm done, I take off her necklace and bury it as deep as I can in the frozen dirt between her and my aunts grave.
Believe, it says. I believe that I will be okay. I believe that they will be okay. We will be okay. The snow is falling thickly now and does good obscuring my silent tears. I'm glad I went to see her. I would've been moping to myself for the next couple of weeks on the Victory Tour.
Once I'm back at my house, I quickly start a fire and in no time, the living room is lit up with warmth and shadows lurk on the walls. But I'm not afraid. I make some tea and change out of my wet clothing and put on a fleece sweatshirt and jeans.
I then curl up on the couch and open up some of the old photo albums featuring me, my dad and my mother when our broken family was pieced together.
The first picture I see makes me laugh out loud. It's a picture of 3 year old me and my mother, both dressed up in crazy costumes, probably imitating Capitol residents. I have on a bright pink skirt that goes to my ankles and bright green platform heels. My shirt is some glittery thing. My face is the most crazy. I can tell you this: bright pink lipstick, orange eye shadow, and purple blush do not go well together.
My mother is dressed almost identical to me except her hair is spiked up in odd places. We're both smiling widely. Oh, the fun we had together.
The next picture is me curled up in my fathers lap, obviously asleep, and it looks as if I'm covered in flour.
The next picture solves why I'm covered in flour. It's my father and I, trying to make cookies, but having it turn into a flour war.
The usually sparkling clean cabinets and ground is covered in gritty white and the occasional bit of sprinkle or something. It looks as if my dad had just thrown flour at me because I have a shocked expression, but smiling all the way.
There are several more pictures of that day, including the final product of our cookies, which basically look like rock cakes or something.
Then a picture of my mom trying one. Her face is pinched up, like she just squeezed a lemon into her mouth. I take it they didn't taste good.
I flip the page and is mortified. It's me in the bathtub around age 4. I quickly turn the page and decide not to look at those.
Next, are pictures of me and occasionally Peeta and his brothers. We seem to be having some cookout in my backyard. Peeta and I are attempting to do handstands and such as his brothers attempt to push us over when we finally manage it.
There's one of me, feet straight up in the air, as Peeta's older brother is coming at me. The next is me flat on my back, while Peeta and his brothers roll around in laughter on the ground.
I find that I'm smiling at all of these pictures until I find one that puzzles me. Haymitch is in one. He's holding a baby, with bright blue eyes and rosy red cheeks, as if they were just born. I realize that it's me. Hump. Haymitch knew my mother then. I wonder why that was never mentioned. My mood is forgotten when I get into my baby pictures.
First, there's me after I was just born, screaming and wailing my head off while my mother is collapsed in the bed. I can see the remains of shattered objects on the floor in the room.
Then, me in my mom's arms. She looks so happy to see me. Like I'm the only thing that mattered into the world at the moment.
Next one is my dad holding me and he looks the same way. It carries on with more people holding me until we get to very old people in hospital beds holding me. They must be my grandparents. They died when I was very young.
It goes through my life, starting with my first steps, to my first tooth, to losing my first tooth, to starting school, so on and so forth. There's one that really catches my eye though.
It's my father and me, in my bedroom. We dont seem to realize that someone is taking the picture because we're engrossed into a bedtime book that's titled "Little Sally Gets Home." I seem to be struggling to read it with my dad nodding and helping me pronounce the words in the book. Before I know it, I'm wiping happy tears from my face. The front door opens and closes and my dad's voice rings throughout the house.
"Madge?"
"In here!" I call back, trying to suppress my grin. I hear two sets of feet come down the hall, one quieter than the other, which I know is not my father. He could never control how loud his footsteps were.
"What are you doing?" he asks, as he walks into the room, with Gale behind him.
"Nothing. Just looking."
"At?"
"Pictures." I keep turning the pages as my dad sits on one side of me and Gale on the other.
My dad chuckles. "I forgot we had these. I haven't looked at them in years." he says as he slides a picture of me with put my two front teeth out of the little slot thing and examines it. "You lost all of your teeth at one time and could only eat mashed potatoes and such for a while."
I laugh and take the picture from him."Was I sick of them by the time I could eat real food again?"
"Never allowed us to have them again." I laugh again and slide the picture back in the slot. I turn the page and immediately wish I hadn't. Its baby me in the bathtub. Wailing my head off. I feel my face grow hot as my dad laughs and rips the book out of my hands.
"You never shut up." he chuckles and I groan as Gale laughs.
"She never does now."
"Shut up!" I elbow Gale in the side. My dad turns the page again and I groan again as this time its Gale who takes the book.
"Was that you?" He asks in disbelief as he points to a picture in the right corner. It's me and Peeta again, both of us covered in dirt. I have grass stuck in my hair and dirt all over my face. We're under a table lying next to each other, laughing hysterically at something.
"Oh my gosh, that is! I forgot about these!" my dad says quickly.
"When was this?"
"You were about five I think. We were over at the Mellarks because John invited us." I know that is Peeta's dad. His mother must not have been around. "Jake, Peeta's brother, had tried to make a pyramid with you two, with him on the top."
He points to another picture with Peeta and I groaning under the weight of him. Our 'pyramid' isn't actually a pyramid. It was more of a blob on the ground. We direct our attention back to the other picture. "This was after when you saw Jake roll down the hill by their house."
"Adorable..." I hear Gale say under his breath. I smile to myself.
We keep looking at pictures with the occasional comment about something when we get to the really embarrassing ones, which include me with a pie on my head and my mother, who has just begun to lose herself, smiling faintly from above me.
I look about seven, with some teeth missing here and there. Then there's some more in the bathtub stuff with I automatically skip through as Gale and my father laugh at me.
Gale looks at my red and fuming face and speaks. "Aw, you're cute when you're mad." He brushes some hair out of my face.
"Then I'm about to get real adorable." I growl and they just laugh more. There's one of me on the roof.
"How on earth did I get up there?"
"You were a little monkey. Climbed on chairs, trees in the yard, and yes, roofs." My dad says, chuckling.
"Explain to me why I can't do any of that now?" I giggle and my dad shrugs.
"One day you could and the next well, you couldn't." The pictures continue with embarrassing ones and my mother is slowly fading out of the pictures.
It's getting into more recent ones with me either reading, or playing the piano, or trying to hide my face from the camera. The last picture in the book looks the most recent.
I'm sleeping on our couch, curled up into a ball with a blanket curled around me. My hair is all over the place, but mostly in my face. Gale chuckles. I ignore him and turn to my dad.
"When was this taken?"
He shifts uncomfortably. "The night before you got reaped." Oh. The day my life turned upside down. Gale takes that as his cue to leave. I walk him to the door and onto the porch. I shiver in my bare feet.
"See you tomorrow then?" Gale says as he embraces me.
"I guess." I sigh. He kisses the tip of my nose.
"You two have a lot to talk about." he whispers and I nod. "Good luck." he smirks and I roll my eyes.
I know I have to talk to my dad about everything. Today's that day. I go back inside the house and shake off the bits of snow that fell on me and pad back down the hall to the living room to find my dad looking at the pictures.
"You were an interesting child." He chuckles as I sit back down next to him and pull the blanket around me again.
"I think we need to talk, Madge." he says suddenly putting the book down on the coffee table. I nod. We haven't actually talked since before the reaping.
"You really like him don't you?" He asks and I know he means Gale.
"I love him, Dad."
"I can tell. I see it in the way you two look at each other that you look at each other." I feel my face grow hot again. "It's not something to be ashamed of, Madge."
"I know."
"Another thing, your um, episodes." I groan and bury my face in the blanket. I know what he's talking about. When I claw myself to death because of a dream or something. "You have to stop it, Madge. Maybe talk about it, but anything but hurting yourself."
"It's hard. Everything I see reminds me of the arena. It's never going to stop."
"All memories fade. Soon, the dreams will come once a week, then once a month, then every three months and so on. Eventually, maybe you will forget the worst of it."
"It's been 25 years for Haymitch, and he still calls me Maysilee." I spit out and he looks shocked.
"What?"
"He still calls me Maysilee at times. The memories will never fade."
"They will Madge, hopefully soon. I don't like to see you hurting yourself."
"You sound like Gale." I mutter under my breath and my dad cracks a smile.
"Looks like we care about you. Speaking of Gale, he came to talk to me."
I raise my eyes and look at him. "About?"
"The marriage." I groan and divert my eyes.
"I told him that you were only 16 and much too young to get married.""I'm almost 17, though." it's true. I would turn 17 just days after we get home from the Tour."
"Still. He also said that there was another option, but that you two declined that instantly. If you don't mind me asking, what was it?"
Well, I probably shouldn't lie to him about it. "That I got pregnant."
He freezes quickly and looks at me. "I'm good with the first choice."
"Uh-huh."
"So what's supposed to happen?"
"No clue. Haymitch has been too intoxicated to tell us anything about it. Speaking of Haymitch," I pull the book out of my father's hands and flip to the page with Haymitch on it. "Explanation please?"
He shifts uncomfortably again. "Your mother was friends with him."
"Friends? Why was this never mentioned?" I study the picture while my dad struggles to find the words. Haymitch looks younger. Not as out of shape, but younger. His hair is still shaggy and I know that even then he was a drunk.
"He-well-your mom was friends with him after the Quarter Quell and-" He abruptly tries to explain everything but I cut him off.
"it's okay, Dad, I get it."
"No, Madge, I need to tell you. Haymitch is well, your Godfather."I freeze on the spot and turn.
"He's my what?" there is so much ice in my voice the fire might freeze over.
"Your Godfather." in an instant, I'm pulling on shoes and charging out the door to Haymitch's. Soon enough, I've made it through the mountains of snow to see Haymitch's house come into view. I wrench the door open and the foul odor of stale liquor and just pure neglect hits me. I gag.
"Haymitch Abernathy!" I shout through the house to find silence except for my voice echoing. I charge into the kitchen to find Haymitch passed out on the table, liquor in one hand, a sharp knife in the other. I rip the knife out of his hand and it clatters to the ground. I dump ice cold water on him and the comes up, shouting every word of profanity I have ever heard. Through his blurry and red eyes he deciphers me.
"Hey, sweetheart."
"Don't 'sweetheart' me, Abernathy." I hiss out and he looks amused.
"Well don't get your panties in a twist." he stands up shakily and walks to the dirty cabinet, and pulls more liquor out. I grab it out of his hands in a flash and throw it on the ground.
I jab a finger into his dirty undershirt and just yell. "Godfather? What the hell does that mean?"
He just laughs at me. "It was your mothers idea. Apparently I'm supposed to watch over you if something were to happen to your parents."
"Well, you could've told me like a long time ago! Why didn't you tell me?"
"You would've thought I was responsible for you." He slurs and reaches for another bottle. I smash it again.
"No more liquor, Haymitch! I'm sick and tired of you just drinking to drown your sorrows! And yes, Haymitch, you are responsible for me because my mother is dead and my father is probably on the way to it! Or we're you to intoxicated to notice that my mother died?!"
I'm just shouting and shouting letting off a steam of anger while Haymitch jeers back at me.
"I knew. Just didn't feel like paying my respects."
"Ugh! Haymitch Abernathy, I hate you!"
"Now, sweetheart-" I glare and he stops. "If glares could kill, I'd be dead. Anyways, you can't hate your mentor. You still have a lot of years to go and when I'm dead, you'll miss me."
"I don't think I'll miss a drunk." I say coldly and Haymitch loses it.
We're in a full blown shouting match at each other. "The only reason I drink is because I see your aunt in everything! I can't stand the memories!" He bellows in my face; spit flying everywhere into the grimy kitchen.
"Well, whoopdedo for you! That's great to know! That's great to know that everything reminds you of her, because everything reminds me of Rue and I'm never going to forget it!" I don't know how we went from Godparents to the arena, but we did.
"Yeah, you never will because the memories never go away! They've stuck with me and they're going to stay with you because you loved someone also! It's not just you!"
Something inside of me breaks and I'm screaming again. I don't even acknowledge what he said because I'm storming out of his house and slamming the door with a satisfying bang. I'm charging through the snow and back to my own house.
Once in my house, I kick off my shoes and stalk up the stairs, ignoring the shouts from my dad. I slam my door and collapse on the bed burying my face in a pillow and screaming. I just scream and scream and scream.
I ignore my dad when he calls me for dinner. I'm not hungry, I'm too angry at Haymitch for everything. He knew all this time that he was my Godfather or whatever and never told me. Did he expect me to do nothing about it?
It finally strikes me on what he meant. He loved my aunt. This puzzles me, because I know he had a girlfriend when he left. That's what my dad told me. Then I get it. He loved my aunt like a sister. Like I loved Rue.
The thought that Haymitch could actually love someone shocks me.
I don't know why, but it makes me mad. When my anger has finally subsided a little, I decide to go downstairs and eat something because my stomach is grumbling and tomorrow is going to be Lot of work. My dad is still up. He takes in my wrinkled clothing and matted hair.
"Were you... Shouting at Haymitch?"
"Yup. Is there any food left?"
"Why? And yes. There's some in the fridge. Just heat it up."
"Several reasons. I'll just eat it cold." I sit down by my dad again after piling some chicken and green beans onto my plate.
"I could hear you two screaming."
"Lovely." I say dryly while shoveling cold chicken into my mouth.
"The Hawthorne's could hear you too. Hazelle called and asked why you were screaming."
"Well that's just great. I'm going to bed." I stand quickly and my dad doesn't protest. I throw my dishes in the sink and stalk back up the stairs. I slam my door again and flop back down onto the bed.
I groan into my pillow when the phone rings. "Will everyone just shut up?!" I shout to no one in particular.
I hear my dad coming up the stairs. His voice is muffled through the door. "Yeah she's here." He knocks on my door. "Madge? It's Gale." I groan and slide off of the bed and open the door.
My dad hands me the phone and leaves, closing the door again.
"Hello?" I huff through the phone
."Madge?"
"It's me."
"This thing is weird." I don't respond. "You're in a mood."
I'm about to retort when he speaks again. "What were you and Haymitch shouting about? We could hear it here."
"So I've been told." I say bitterly. "I don't want to talk about it." I say while lying back down.
"You know that you can talk to me about anything though, right?"
"I know. I just don't want to talk about it at the moment." I know I'm sounding mean and cold but I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone. Silence on the line.
"I'm gonna go now. Love you." Even now it gets my heart racing and my stomach doing gymnastics inside me.
"Love you too." silence on the line when I hang up. I throw the phone across the room. It lands in my open closet with a satisfying thud.
A/N: BAck! OMG, 100 reviews! I freaking love yall. Anyways, there might be some mistakes becasue i wrote this on my phone. Thoughts? Believeable? what about the whole thing with Haymitch?