I do not own 'Hunger Games' or anything related.


I was staring at the ceiling of what was undoubtedly my compartment on the train. It took me a moment to remember what had happened before. I rubbed my head. I wasn't sure if the pounding headache was from a hangover or from the fall.

Probably both.

Hopefully my making a fool of myself gave the girl the moment she needed to compose herself without anyone paying attention. If we were on the move, then the boy tribute must have already been chosen. I wonder if anyone had bothered to volunteer for him as the girl had for her sister. Somehow, I doubted it. I can only imagine the shock, denial and dread that he felt, as all tributes felt when their names were called out. Mine was worse. Every time, waiting for the name to be called out, afraid that it would be your name, feeling your heart beat furiously against your rib cage, as if it was aware that depending on whose name was called out, pretty soon it wouldn't be beating anymore, before hearing the name called out and it's not yours, feeling that relief, or a mixture of sorrow if you knew the person that was chosen. Now imagine going through that again before you had a chance to recover. Of course, I didn't let anyone know how scared I was. I just treated the whole thing as no big deal. It always annoyed people that I did that, telling me that I wouldn't be so brave if my name was picked. But every choosing ceremony, I would tell myself that if my name was picked, I wouldn't cower or cry like so many tributes. The capitol may take my life, but I would not give them the satisfaction of showing them how scared I was. I would stroll up to the stage, and not show a hint of fear. Besides, any sign of fear would be picked up by any other tributes as a sign of weakness. Then the second male tribute was called out.

"Haymitch Abernathy."

At first I was sure I must have misheard. It was only because I've been thinking so much of it, I was sure of it. But when everyone turned to look at me, I knew I hadn't. For a moment, I thought that I would end up breaking down, even try to run away. No, I thought to myself as I forced myself forward with my hands in my pockets. I would not show fear. Not in front of everyone here, not in front of the district, the capitol, the other tributes, and certainly not in front of my family! I walked up and took the stage, keeping a scowl to hide my real emotions.

"Any volunteers?" The escort asked.

I looked for my brother, to see if I can stop him from volunteering. Instead I noticed Mel, and how his hand was shaking, and I realised what he was doing.

He was going to volunteer.

Don't you dare! I shot him a look. You volunteer and you're dead!

Which was a pretty empty threat considering that if did volunteer he would be dead. I sighed relief when he put his hand down.

I wonder if people would be glad to see me gone. The teachers especially, after all the trouble I caused at school!

I was taken to a room where I was left alone. Soon, everyone I cared about would come to say their goodbyes. I took advantage of this moment alone to take in what had happened. Falling on one of the seats, I had my eyes to the floor as my hands shook and my body rocked back and forth.

I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

Maybe I could make it. I'm tougher than most of the district here. And I know how to use a weapon. Of course, some would hardly consider a kitchen knife a weapon. But a knife was a knife and a knife was a weapon. But I would also be up against the careers, who tended to win every games. No, I could survive. It's not the first time I went up against someone bigger than me. And I could kill. I have killed. Even though technically it was an accident.

When I was small, I remember being terrified of my old man, who would come home late at night, violent, his breath smelling fowl. Every time he yelled at me, or hit me, I was sure at first it was something I did wrong, but my Ma comforted me, assured me it wasn't.

"He's just had a bad day," She would tell me.

It seemed like he had a bad day every day. There was hardly any day when he wasn't drunk. Come to think of it, I don't think there was any day when he wasn't drunk! Then when my Ma was pregnant, I was worried that he would cause a miscarriage. When my brother was born, he was so tiny, even then. As I held him tightly in my arms, I promised him that I would never let any harm come to him. Whenever he was crying, and my Ma's breast failed to make him stop, I would be there to calm him down, or take him out of the house. Whenever our Ma was hit it would cause him to cry. When that happen I would take him out of the room. He learnt not to cry so much after one incident when my old man got to him before I did, and I had to insult him to draw his attention away from him. That was the day before me and Mel became friends. I remember my brother hugging me, saying sorry. Sorry for only being upset about our Ma being hurt! I did my best to protect him, to keep him out of the way of our old man, to take the blows intended for him, even insulted him whenever he threatened to hit him. I grew to hate him. Really hate him, for the way he spoke to Larie, for the little things he did. I swore to myself. If he ever laid one finger on him, then I would kill him before he laid a single blow. I meant it. I practice with the kitchen knife, imagining the different ways I could kill him. I also found something else. Part of the wall was worn. Every night, when everyone else was fast asleep, I would punch the piece of the wall that was on level with my head, until I was sure that one more blow would break it.

Then that day came. My old man had come in late from Hob drunk, as usual. He vomited on the floor as usual. My mother would try to clean it up.

"Leave it," He snapped.

"This will only take a minute," She pleaded.

"I SAID LEAVE IT!"

He smacked her so hard she fell to the ground.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!"

My old man looked at who it was. It was my brother.

No no no no. Larie, what have you done?

"What d'you say to me?" My old man demanded to know.

I could see from his face that Larie instantly regretted his outburst.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He begged.

"WHAT D'YOU SAY TO ME?"

He advanced on him. I tried my usual tactic of drawing the attention to me, but he was too full of rage to listen. My old man grabbed my little brother by the throat and pinned him to the wall as he raised his hand.

"No!"

Grabbing the knife from the table I plunged it in his back between the shoulder blades. He screamed like a wounded animal, trying to pull the blade out, but it was out of his reach. He looked at me, his eyes full of rage.

"You little brat! Come ere!"

He tried to grab me, but I was too quick for him.

"Come here and get hit!"

He was older, and worn down by drink.

"Stop!" My mother screamed.

Eventually I stopped. He looked at me with a greedy look.

"Finally stopped running, eh? Finally decided to act like a man?"

"What kind of man beats up women and little children?" I retort.

That sent him in a rage, just as I had intended. Because I hadn't stopped running to take his punishment. I had lured him into my trap. I dodged the punch he threw, which smashed through the wall, trapping him. He tried to pull it out, but it was stuck.

"Stop it!" My ma continued to plea, but I wasn't listening. Now it was time to finish him off, but my weapon was still lodged in his back, and it was too high for me to grab. Eventually he managed to pull his fist out of the wall, staggering backwards. He slipped on the pile of vomit he puked earlier, falling backwards to the floor. The knife burst through his chest. He stared at the blade, shocked over what had just happened. Then he looked at me. I did not look away, I want to make it clear that he was dead by my hand, and I was glad. He gave me this confused look, as if he couldn't believe that a boy shy of being 12 had just killed him. He then out what sounded like a gurgling sound, then his head slumped back.

"NO!"

My mother ran to his side, clutching his body.

"No!"

"Haymitch!"

I turned to the cries of my little brother, taking him to the other room, hugging him.

"Shh. It's over now. He can't hurt you any longer. He can't hurt anyone any longer."

I can't remember how long I held him in my arms as we remained in silence, before he asked me.

"What are we going to do now, Haymitch?"

"It'll be okay. Ma will get a job, and just to make sure we're okay I'll take tesserae when I turn 12 next week."

"No!"

He hugged me tighter.

"No, I don't want you to!"

"It'll be, okay, Larie. Lots of people take tesserae."

"I'm sorry, Haymitch! I shouldn't have yelled at Dad!"

"No," I told him, how could I fault him for doing that, "No, it was about time someone stood up to him."

Soon the peacekeepers had arrived. Ma had covered up my actions, removing the knife, wiping off the finger prints, taking my old man's hand and pressing it onto the handle before placing it back in through the front of the chest. She lied to the peacekeepers, saying that my old man had come in drunk as usual, waving the knife around and taking out his anger against the wall, only for his hand to get stuck and when he pulled it out he slipped on the vomit he puked earlier and in the fall the knife ended up in his chest. Everyone knew he was the town drunk, and that he was prone to violence, so none of the peacekeepers questioned her story. After his body was wheeled out to the morgue, my Ma had broken down into tears. I reached over to comfort her.

"Ma-"

"Don't touch me!"

She smacked my hand away. I was shocked.

"Ma?"

"I said get away from me!"

The look she gave me. Ouch. It hurt. It hurt that she loved that monster more than me, when I had only done what I had to to save my brother, her other son.

The next day, word spread in the district. No one knew what exactly happened. There were different versions, but most of them agreed that I had brutally murdered my old man and got away with it. Some included that I did it to save my little brother, but overall that didn't seem to matter. Children started to avoid me, while others whispered 'killer' behind my back. Not that I cared.

When Recess started I didn't want to be anywhere near the other children, or even members of the staff that believed the rumours too. I escaped school, and ran as fast as I could away from it, away from the town, away from everyone! Eventually I found myself in the meadow. It was quiet and peaceful there, away from any human contact. I just stared at the horizon. I could hear someone walk up to me. I didn't need to turn around to see who it was.

"Mitch."

"What do you want, Mel?"

Mel seemed to struggle as to what to say.

"Come to ask what happened, did you? How I murdered my old man?"

"No."

I looked at him. He really didn't seem to care what happened. It annoyed me that he didn't care.

"You should probably stay away from me from now on. I'm no good to be around."

"I don't think that."

"Will you stop it?" I turned to look at him, "Just go, will you? Go and hang out with your other friends."

"Mitch-"

"I SAID GO!"

"Okay. Okay."

He turned to walk away. No. That wasn't what I wanted.

"Mel, wait!"

Mel turned back to look at me.

"I'm-"

I couldn't manage to say the word. We just stared at each other. It was Mel who broke the silence.

"You called me your friend."

"So?"

"That's the first time you've ever done that."

I thought about what he said. I had considered our friendship had started after that fight, when we respected each other's fighting capability. Although we never officially became friends after that. More like sparring partners. It took longer for us to confide in each other, to even hang around like friends. I think the time when we officially became friends was at his Dad's funeral, even though even after that we never outright said we were friends.

"Well? Aren't we?" I snapped.

It annoyed me that Mel had to even take time considering that.

"I guess so."

"You guess?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Well yeah. Even if you can be an asshole."

That caused me to laugh, and he laughed too. I sat down, watching the horizon.

"Mind if I join you?" He asked.

I shrugged.

"Do what you want," I told him, instead of saying, yes, I don't want to be alone right now.

And so he did. Instantly we started talking about other things, as if nothing had happened.

Ma started to work in the mines. Between the tesserae I got and having someone supporting us who did not spend all of the money on drink, we managed to get by. However, my Ma could never look at me again, and I was so hurt and angry about it that I decided she was dead to me as well! We became strangers living in the same house. In a way, I lost both parents that day.

The door opened, and at once I straightened up, banishing any fear I had behind a smile. My Ma and brother had entered.

"I'll leave you two alone," Said a peacekeeper who had escorted them in.

The door was closed behind us.

Larie burst into tears.

"I don't want you to die, Haymitch!"

"Hey hey hey! Come on!"

I bent down so we were at face level.

"You're going to be the man of the house when I'm away, so no crying, ok?"

I wiped the tears from his face. He sniffed.

"Ok, Haymitch. I promise."

I placed my hands on his shoulders.

"Just think. When I win, we'll be able to move into a big house! And have so much money we won't know what do with it!"

I was just saying this for his benefit, when I knew my chances of surviving were low to nil. At once he hugged me.

"I love you, Haymitch!"

"Okay, Okay," I tell him, untangling him from me, because I was afraid that if he hugged me any longer I would break down into tears.

"Larie, can you wait outside, please?" My Ma asked him.

He nodded, and walked out. Now it was just the two of us, and it was as awkward as you can imagine. For the first time in years, I looked at her straight in the eye, before looking away. Putting my hands in my pockets, I slowly looked up.

"Bet you'll be glad when I'm gone, eh M-"

She hugged me.

"I'm sorry!" She cried, "I'm so, so sorry, for keeping my distance all these years! You must have thought I hated you, but the truth is I never stopped loving you! And now there's no more time…"

I was stunned. It had been so long since I felt her embrace, her hands that comforted me when I was little. I hugged her back. For the first time, I broke down, letting my mask fall away.

"I'm scared, Ma."

"I know you are. I know."

Eventually she said "I forgive you."

That urked me, that she forgave me for protecting Larie, but at that time I didn't care.

We heard the door start to open.

"Haymitch."

She looked at me straight in the eye. There was a hardness in her that I rarely saw.

"Haymitch, listen to me! You can win," She shook me slightly, "You are strong. You are fast. You are resourceful, you are smart, and what's more you're a-"

She didn't finish that sentence, as she was pulled away. And then they were gone. I thought about what my Ma had said. And I was concerned about what she was going to say. Because I realise how she could be certain that I could win.

She was going to say because I was a killer.

Later, Rachelle had come to visit me. For a moment, we just looked at each other. Then, starting to cry, she strolled towards me and we interlocked lips. Then our hands were all over each other. I pulled her in tightly. The kisses were mixed with tears. For a moment, I had forgotten where I was, or that I had been chosen. All that existed was me and her in a tight, blissful embrace. I could have stayed there forever. Then the door opened again, and the little bubble was burst, and I was back in the room, about to be readied for slaughter.

"Haymitch! Haymitch!" She shouted as she was dragged out, "I love you!"

"I know! I know I-"

For a moment I didn't know what to say, as she was taken away, out of my life. I didn't get a chance to say it. I had a final visitor. It was Mel. For a moment we just stared at each other.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I should have volunteered. If I had-"

"No you shouldn't have. Someone needs to look after your mom."

For a moment we just looked at each other. Then we walked towards each other and hugged each other, patting the other on the back.

"I love you, man."

I was startled by this sudden expression of affection.

"Alright, get off," I pushed him off, "Before we both start growing lady parts."

He looked at me. And nodded.

"Take care, Haymitch."

He walked out. I stared at the closed door. Why? Why did that have to be my last words to him? Why couldn't I have said I love him too, tell him how much his friendship has meant to me, how it helped me get through even the darkest parts of my life? Everyone I cared about, each of them told me they loved me in their own way, and I couldn't even say the words back to them. Too busy looking tough, appearing tough. They must know I love them too. Right? I swore to myself, that if by some miracle that I survived this, when I came home, I would tell each other them that I love them too.

Sadly, though, I would only ever do that with one of them.