I do not own 'Hunger Games' or anything related.
As I laid there on the couch, my mind drifting back to 25 years ago, I realised that I couldn't hide in my compartment forever. I should probably make some effort in being around. Sitting up, I walked out of the door and –
Aw no.
I've just caught sight of someone who was undoubtedly the boy tribute. Now I knew this blond haired and blue eyed person was definitely Town Folk. I've seen him work at the bakery. Peter, I think his name was.
Damn. I forgot my own rule about never naming the tributes.
For a moment we just looked at each other.
Nope. On second thoughts I'm not up to seeing the tributes together right about now.
"Gonna take a nap," I muttered as I walked back into my compartment. Hopefully it looked like I only just went in as opposed to coming out only to retreat back in. I laid back down on the couch.
Although I rarely got town kids, it did happen. It was annoying when it did. See, whenever the tributes die, guess who gets blamed for not preparing them, for not getting them gifts from sponsors who could have helped them survive? Already I was banned from butchers, the apothecary, the sweet shop, and the undertakers (Which was going to be a huge problem when I finally kicked the bucket. Despite being filthy rich, sadly that income ends when you die. Not that I want a fancy funeral. They would probably throw me in a ditch somewhere). Not that I would ever frequent those places often, it was just annoying when it did. Guess I'll be adding the bakery to that list.
As if it was my fault they all died! As if there was nothing I could have done to save them! And I tried, I really did. When I first became a mentor, I was confident in thinking that I could teach future kids how to survive. At first, after the first couple of defeats, I thought that maybe once I was older than the tributes they would listen to me more, and not just look down at me just because I was younger or came from the seam, but it didn't make a difference. I told them to avoid the cornucopia, they died. I tell them to go for the cornucopia, they died faster. I tell them to make allies, they died. I tell them to go it alone, they died. I tell them to look fierce, they died. I tell them to look vulnerable, they died. I tried to be hard, I tried to be pleasant, no matter what I path took, what strategy I adopted, eventually, sooner or later, every one under my care was slaughtered. It probably didn't help that I drank more later to calm my nerves. After the tenth hunger games I was mentoring in, and my kids died in front of my eyes on the screen, I just gave up even trying. From that point on, the only advice I would ever give to any future tributes was 'stay alive'. As good as it did any of them, as without my guidance they just died faster. Well, better sooner than later I thought. At least that's what I tell myself. I thought about Raybearta, the previous mentor before me, and how she couldn't make a victor out of the numerous tributes under her care. Of course, she won because of her heritage. I only won because I did something that, had I known the consequences, I wouldn't have dared to, and I wouldn't tell any of the tributes to follow in my footsteps.
Coming to, I sat up and found it was night time. Had I really fallen asleep a few hours ago? Well, better sooner than later to introduce myself. I wondered if I had missed supper? And along with that any drink available?
Eventually I came to the carriage where the tributes were having supper with Effie.
"Will Haymitch be joining us?" I heard the girl ask.
The boy mentioned how he had seen me before, when I said I was going to take a nap. Later the two of them made fun of me and how I'm always drunk. I smiled. At least my presence gave them something to laugh about. However Effie then spoke, reminding them it was my job to get them sponsors, whose gifts would be a matter of life and death.
Life and death.
Her words sobered me. I walked in.
"Have I missed supper?"
I looked at the tributes. Imagined what their future would be. Dead, bloodied, sprawled on the floor. The boy and the girl.
Everdeen's girl.
I threw up and collapsed on the ground. As I laid there on the floor, I was aware of someone tiptoeing around me, likely Effie. Next thing I knew were someone helping me up. Probably the tributes. They helped me back in my compartment and into the bathtub. I heard the boy dismiss the girl. She offered to summon the servants.
"No," The boy told her, "I don't want them."
The boy helped me get undressed, washed and in bed. Probably trying to garner favour with me. How is he gonna feel when he discovers it was all for nothing?
Have I really become this pathetic? Only 40, always drunk, throwing up all over the place, unable to get up from my own puke, needing a couple of kids to even help me stand up, bathe and dressed? I wasn't always. There was a time that I didn't drink a drop of alcohol, not even when it was offered! The first time I was on a train, on my way to the capitol, they offered us all kinds of food, and I ate a bit of everything. I stuffed myself, knowing that it would be good to gain a few pounds, and that I would likely starve in the arena. But not the wine. Never the wine, or any form of alcohol. That was the one thing I didn't touch, as I vowed that not a single drop would pass through my lips (Another promise that I would eventually end up breaking). Two of my other fellow tributes also ate like there was no tomorrow, much to the disgust of our escort, Eulalia Charm, or requested to be referred to as 'Mrs Charm'. A middle aged, portly woman, she had blue, short hair, white make up, bright red lipstick and fingernails the same colour has her hair.
"Well, I can see at least one of you was brought up with table manners!"
She was referring to Maysilee Donner, the only tribute this year who came from a merchant family, who although ate as quickly as she could, at least used a knife and fork, ate from a plate and used a napkin, whereas the rest of us just used our hands when we could, grabbing what we could and stuffing it in our mouths. Bits of food and juice were on the faces of my fellow seam tributes as I'm sure were on mine, but this was our least concern. Well, could you blame us? Barely having enough to eat before suddenly having more than we ever had in our entire lives? People probably have more time to worry about table manners when you had enough to eat like in a merchant's family, like Maysilee's family! I always took a little satisfaction whenever a merchant kid was chosen. Let them scramble for survival like the rest of us! I don't know why she was eating like she had never had anything to eat like the rest of us. Especially since she worked in a sweet shop she should be used to nice tasting stuff!
I noticed that she had a brooch. It was made of gold, and had some kind of bird. It was probably meant to be her token. It was so like the merchants. Having something that could have fed a family bread for months like jewellery! I don't know why, but it looked familiar, but I couldn't pinpoint where I've seen it before.
"Will Raybearta be joining us?" Maysilee asked.
Come to think of it, I hadn't seen Raybearta since the reaping.
"Oh, um, I'm afraid Miss Wallace likes to keep to herself on the journey to the Capitol."
"Well, I just thought that since she is our mentor that she should be here to mentor us," Raybearta reasoned.
"Yes, well, um, she takes a more laissez faire approach when it comes to mentoring."
Mrs Charm looked annoyed as she saw most of us didn't understand what she meant.
"What that means is-"
"It means she's too busy getting drunk on her ass while the rest of us die!" I shouted.
Everyone else looked shocked when I said this. Mrs Charm composed herself.
"I would prefer, Mr Abernathy," She told me, "That you would refrain from using such coarse language, especially regarding your mentor. She is, after all, the one responsible for securing sponsors for you all, which will lead to money for gifts that could end up saving your life in the arena."
"Well then we're all pretty much screwed, aren't we?"
The other girl tribute, Leslie Herlihy, burst into tears. Maysilee, to my surprise, tried to comfort her. I always thought that merchant kids preferred to avoid contact with us if they could. I felt bad, making her cry, although I did my best to conceal this.
"You're a jerk, Haymitch!" Maysilee snapped at me.
"What?" I shrugged, "I'm only just saying what we're all thinking, right? Or did any of you actually think that one of us would be coming home?"
I really hoped that wasn't the case.
"Just what is your problem, Haymitch?" The other boy tribute, Mat Rayburn, demanded to know.
"Hey," I laid back in my chair, acting more casual than I actually felt, "I just think the best thing we can all do right now is just accept our inevitable demise."
Awful, I know, awful thing to say, but once I'm going I can't stop, not even when someone was crying even more because of me. I did my best to hide this affecting me as it did.
"Now now, there's no need to despair!" Mrs Charm tried to comfort, "The other districts have at least two victors! District 12 is definitely up for another one anytime soon!"
"Yeah?" I questioned, "And how is that supposed to happen when the one person in District 12 who actually survived this thing is locked in her room getting drunk on her ass?"
"Mr Abernathy, please, language!"
I laughed.
"You think I care? About good manners? If I speak politely, or use a knife and fork and napkin to eat my food? How is that supposed to help me in the arena? What, the careers won't kill me if I ask them not to do it nicely?"
I could see that Mrs Charm was doing her best to remain patient with me.
"First of all, I would like to assure you all that these stories you've heard about 'career tributes' are unfounded myths. All tributes have an equal chance of winning from any district."
"Then how come most of the victors come from 1 and 2?" I accused.
"...Secondly, sponsors tend to favour those tributes who are at least able to present themselves well."
"I repeat, how are sponsors supposed to help me if the one person who seals the deal is too busy getting drunk off her-"
Given that I had already used the word 'ass' twice, I decided to go for the rudest word I could think of, one that caused shock from everyone and Mrs Charm to almost faint.
"Mr Abernathy!"
"Mr Abernathy!" I imitated her high voice. Honestly, the look on her face was worth it.
"Well excuse us if trying to survive in the arena and killing the other tributes isn't a big deal to the rest of us!" Mat shouted at me, "Then again, we all know that you have no problem with killing."
That touched a nerve. And I could see from the boy's face that he instantly regretted his words as I shot up and lunged at him, despite Mrs Charm's cries of "No! No fighting amongst tributes!"
"Keep it down, will ya?"
There was banging behind me when my fingers were just a few inches from Mat's neck. I turned around. Raybearta Wallace, who was supposed to be our Mentor, was at the entrance. An elderly woman in her sixties, she had the seam appearance, mind you she looked much older, with her saggy skin and missing the odd tooth. Around her neck was a necklace with a cross. In her hand was a bottle of liquor. You could have smelled the fumes over here.
"Some of us are trying to sleep!"
"Oh, I'm sorry," I replied sarcastically, "Interrupted your beauty sleep, did we? It's not like you have anything do, like teach tributes how to survive or anything."
"Mr Abernathy!" Mrs Charm said again, "I am terribly sorry for this one's behaviour, Miss Wallace."
"Thank you, Eula, but I can take care of myself thank you very much. How's the food?"
"Why don't you come join us and find out?" I dared.
"No thanks, I've got all the sustenance here."
She held up the bottle.
"Tried the wine?"
"No," I said.
"Oh. You might do. Eventually," She tells me.
"What? And risk becoming a sad drunk like you? No thanks," I tell her.
"Mr Abernathy!" Mrs Charm said again, but Raybearta was laughing.
"What? I am a sad drunk. This boy here, he's very perceptive."
I was pretty sure she was making fun of me right now.
"Well, I'll leave you to it."
She turned to walk away.
"Um, are you sure you wouldn't like to join us, Ray?" Mrs Charm asked.
Raybeart continued to walk away, raising her bottle. That would be a no, I take it.
"I am awfully sorry, children," Mrs Charm apologised, "Miss Wallace is in a much better mood when she hasn't been drinking."
When would that be? I thought to myself.
"Well then, the reapings should be on soon, let's watched those."
I continued watching Raybearta walk away and disappear from view. I was expecting this. But still, the way she just walked out on everyone when she was supposed to be helping with keeping us alive. It's no wonder we haven't had a victor since her! Course, I didn't let it show that it bothered me. It was a good thing that she came in when she did though, as fighting between tributes before the arena is illegal. Usually I don't care about breaking rules, but I'm pretty sure that if I had pinned to the wall it wouldn't be good for me. I turned around and found that all my fellow tributes had been killed. Blood from their mouths, their eyes wide open. Matt, slumped down on the table. Leslie, tears still pouring from her eyes. Eula was sitting down, old and bloated, laughing as she helped herself to a piece of entrail coming out of Leslie, cutting it off with her knife and placing it on her plate.
"Oh Mr Abernathy, please be a dear and pass the Maysilee, won't you?"
I turned to Maysilee, who sprang to life despite the hole in her neck, although I knew she wasn't going to last long.
"Haymitch," She begged, her bloodied hand raising to me as she got up.
I screamed, sitting up. I was in my bed in my compartment. I fell back, my hands to my face.
A dream. A nightmare. Unfortunately unlike most nightmares, where people only faced potential or imaginary foes, mine always had an element of truth in them. I don't remember getting in bed. Mind you I have problems recollecting a lot of things nowadays. I think I recall someone helping me get ready. The boy, maybe? He was probably trying to garner favour with me. He will learn soon that helping wash my filthy body was all for nothing! It was day time. Well, there was no point trying to get back to sleep! Getting up, I went to breakfast. See, Raybearta? At least I make the effort to be present! Deciding I needed to get some food in me, I took my selection from the buffet, helped myself to some orange juice, and poured my choice of spirit in the glass. The boy was already there. The girl later joined us. I beckoned her over. Well Raybearta. I turned out to be better than you after all!
After she finished her breakfast, the girl asked me the question they always ask me. And I just told them the same thing I tell every pair.
"Stay alive."
I couldn't help but break down into laughter, over the futility of that statement, how none of them stayed alive. At this point they'll break in tears.
"Yeah. That's funny. Except not for us."
The boy knocked the drink out of my hands.
I thought about what just happened. That had never happened before. No one, not even the most foolhardy tribute, ever dared to stand in the way between me and my drink. And I also thought how I was annoyed that he had done this, so I punched him in the face. I reached out for the bottle.
The knife barely missed my fingers. I looked up, into the eyes of this girl. That look. I had never seen that look before, not in any previous tributes. But I had seen that look before...
Something in me reignited.
"What's this? Have they actually sent me a couple of fighters?"
The boy went to put ice on his cheek.
"Stop!"
I got up to stop him, the mentor in me awakening, the part of me that I thought I had extinguished with time and drink. I told him it will look like he got in a fight with another tribute, and even though it's illegal, it will look like he got away with it. I asked the girl if she could throw the knife. It landed deep in the wall.
Yes, I thought. Could it be?
I took a good look at the tributes for the first time, checking their build. Though medium build, the boy was quite stocky. Probably through years of carrying bread trays and having enough to eat. The girl, although smaller, had a fair amount of muscle on her too, likely from the time she spent hunting in the woods. Both were fairly attractive, which would make getting sponsors for them more likely. And so I made a deal. They wouldn't get in the way of my drinking, and I would remain sober enough to help them. They agreed. At once the girl went into asking about the strategy regarding the cornucopia before I stopped her. One step at a time. First step, I told them to do whatever the stylists wanted, not matter how much they wanted to complain. And with that, I took the bottle with me to my compartment. If I was really intent on becoming sober later on, then I was going to have to enjoy the rest of this bottle.
Maybe it is just because I'm drunk. Or that I'm old. But I had seen something in those I had never seen before in any of my tributes. A fighting spirit. And if there was a chance that there could be a victor this time, shouldn't I take it?
Ow. My hand stung. I looked at my red knuckles, seeing where I had hit the boy. I had hit the boy.
I didn't mean to! I was just annoyed that he knocked away my drink! I wouldn't have done it if I was sober! It was only because I was drunk!
Because I was drunk...
Part of the reason why I never had a family, was that I knew that I would need to choose between the drink or having a family. I couldn't part with the drink, so I couldn't have a family. I couldn't bear the thought of beating up whatever sorrowful woman who thought it was a good idea to marry me, with our children only a few feet away, the younger looking terrified of me, the other full of hate, wanting me dead. The image was too much to bear. As I washed my knuckles, I looked up, and thought I saw my old man looking back at me.
"no," I whispered, "I'm not you. I'm not you!"
