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


"Are you friends with Mel?"

Maysilee seemed startled by the question.

"What makes you say that?" She asked.

"For one thing, you keep calling him Mel. Only his friends call him that."

Maysilee had the look of something who realised they let something slip.

"Well, what if I was? You think that you're the only one who was Mel's friend outside of his circle?"

"Sorry. It's just…I can't really imagine it. A seam and merchant kid being friends."

"We seem to do just fine. Sorry, I forget we're only allies."

It seemed she hadn't completely forgiven me over my outburst the day before.

"Well, the arena's different. But in District 12 where there's so many kids that aren't thrown together in a life and death situation? Wait. Do you like him?"

"What? No, of course not!"

"Come off it. Mel has a lot of admirers, I'm sure even a merchant girl like you hasn't noticed that-"

"Haymitch if you don't stop this line of conversation right now I am going to blow one of my darts at your neck!"

"Okay, okay!" I laughed, raising my hands defensively.

I didn't know why she was reacting this way. It can't be because he's seam, because as she made perfectly clear she has no problems with that. But from the way she was reacting, you'd think they were-

Oh.

OH!

My jaw dropped. I looked at her incredulously. I could see that Maysilee realised that I realised the truth, and she nodded. I wouldn't expose that to the rest of the world. Not that sort of scandal. But it made sense now. How they were friends yet the idea of being attracted to him repulsed her.

It was because they were related.

That wasn't too implausible, I guessed. I mean, it did happen now and again, when someone from the merchants would run away with someone from the seam. But the question was how were they related. Cousins. But where and how? As far as I knew, both of Mel's parents came from the seam, and Maysilee's parents both came from merchant families.

Or did they?

I thought about the blond-haired woman who came to Mel's old man's funeral, and how I figured out that she must have been Maysilee's mother. She always struck me as odd. Whenever we would gaze at some of the items on display at the shops, and the shopkeepers would catch us, they would shoo us away like we were vermin. But not her. Whenever she caught us, she would tell us kindly not to go looking for things we could never have, and that sweets weren't so healthy to eat anyway. I also thought about how although she had the pale skin and blond hair of a merchant, she didn't have blue eyes. She must be a mongrel! I also thought about how Maysilee said that her mother was the most persistent for her children to eat the stale sweets, because they should be glad that they have something on their plate instead of anything at all. Because she knew what it was like to go without food for days. That must be it! Perhaps a parent, or even a grandparent, had run off with a coal miner, and even though she came from a poor background she was attractive enough and looked merchant enough to pass as one! I then thought about her reaction with Mel's mother. If they are related, then they must be sisters at least, even though it looked like there was a decade between them, but they had grown apart as Maysilee's mother assimilated herself into a merchant family. It may also explain Mel's mother's unique appearance, too! I didn't want to say anything, but she never looked like to me a normal seam person.

"Anyway, you must be good to your girlfriend too. And your mother…"

She trailed off after she saw my reaction to that.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just…we hadn't been that close for years. Not until I was chosen."

"Why?" Maysilee asked.

I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her everything, but I couldn't. Because if I did, I would expose my mother's crime in covering up a murder. It would be different if everyone wasn't watching, including the peacekeepers at home. And I got the feeling she knew that I couldn't tell her with everyone watching. But I felt like I needed to tell her. The day before I got the feeling that she really wasn't supposed to tell anyone just how much ends meat her family were really making, or any merchant really. For a moment, no sound passed between us.

"Tell me a story."

"A story? What kind of story?"

"Anything. Anything that means that much to you."

And that's when I understood. She was giving me a way to tell my story. It was different if it was portrayed as happening to a fictional family, and even if people did connect the dots the peacekeepers wouldn't waste time on the death of a town drunk. It would be different if it was outright told.

"OK. Once upon a time," I started, as that was how all stories began, "There was a family. A mother, an old man, and two boys. The old man was a drunkard. He always came home at night drunk, and he would beat his wife and his eldest son. But not the younger one. No, the older one made sure that he never touched his little brother, always taking the blows for him. For he swore to protect his little brother, that no harm would come to him, but he was afraid of the day when he wouldn't be able to. So he had a plan. Every night, when everyone was fast asleep, he would punch the weakest part of the wall. And then came the day when he couldn't protect him, when his old man got to his younger brother before he did, but before he could lay a single blow on him, the elder brother took the nearby kitchen knife and plunged it into his old man's back. The old man screamed. Now he had his attention. He chased after the boy, but the boy was too quick. Eventually he stopped, right in front of the wall he weakened. The boy said what kind of man beats up his wife and children, at which point the man threw a punch, but the boy duck away in time, and the man's fist was caught in the wall. The boy tried to get the knife out of his back, but it was too high up. The man pulled out his fist, and staggering back, he slipped on a pile of puke he vomited earlier, and the knife went through his body and burst from his chest.

The boy tried to comfort his mother, but she told him to get away. She loved that monster more than her own son, who only did what he had to to save his brother and her other son. She couldn't look him in the eye, and the son was so upset that he decided she was dead to him as well. So in a way, the boy lost both parents that day."

After I had finished, I noticed that Maysilee, in tears, had her mouth covered.

"So that's what – I mean, I've heard this story before, I've heard many versions, but not that one!"

"Well," I shrugged, "You're the first."

"But what about your family, your friends, your girlfriend?"

I shook my head.

"My family might have known some details, but you're the first I've told the whole thing to, by me."

"You know, the elder son didn't really kill his old man, according to the story you've told. It was an accident."

I laughed.

"You think that matters? The boy meant to kill him, and if the knife wasn't so high, he would have. The old man wouldn't have died if he hadn't put it in there, and tricked him into punching that wall."

"Haymitch-"

Maysilee stretched out her hand to place on mine, but, thinking better of it, retracted it. I wanted to take that, tell her that it was okay, but that would give the impression that she was trying to comfort me over something that had happened to me when this was supposed to happen to someone else.

"Why did you save me from that career?" I asked her.

Maysilee shrugged.

"Allies help each other, right?"

"But we weren't even allies yet. You could have just gone your own merry way."

"And I wouldn't have had you as an ally,"

"Maysilee."

I knew she wasn't being honest, and I felt like since I had just poured out my own soul to the whole of Panem, that she needed to be honest with me as well.

"Why did you do it?"

She seemed to struggle for an answer.

"Because…. because I realise that beneath all that bravado, you are a good guy. And I didn't want a good guy like you to die."

"You know, you're the first person to call me a good guy."

"Well. You are."

The broadcast went.

"I should stand and watch. You should go to sleep."

"OK."

I started to think that for a merchant girl, Maysilee was pretty attractive, but then I pushed the though instantly out of my head. Allies was one thing. Friends another. But I couldn't afford to be attracted to her, when there was no future. Besides, I already had a girlfriend, one who saw me for who I was. Mind you, Maysilee also saw that – No, stop it, Haymitch, stop it! I also remarked what it must be like for Mel, to have his best friend and cousin getting along like this. Then I realised how hard it must be for him, as only one of us could come out of this alive.


The next day, I was becoming concerned about Maysilee. We had already finished our remaining food. I gave her the rest of my share, and even though I knew she wanted me to have it, accepted it. I may be used to not having this much food this long, but she wasn't. And practically, I was worried what effect that hunger was having on her. I didn't want to risk her hitting me instead with one of her darts because she couldn't concentrate. But where to find food? From what we gathered from the last tribute who fought us, no one had any food, but that wasn't going to stop them from killing others just for the off chance that their victim had something to eat. The only ones who were bound to have food were the careers, the people who assured they had plenty of food to eat. But their food source was destroyed by the lava over a week ago, and even if they had any on them, even if they rationed it, they would have surely eaten it by now. If so, they must be as hungry as the rest of us, but then I realised their mentors wouldn't let them go hungry if they could stop it-

Of course! Sponsors! The mentors would have gotten gifts and money from their sponsors to get food for their tributes. I likely hadn't thought of it before, given the absence of our mentor! Yes, people would be showering the favourites 1, 2 and 4 with gifts, and even if the odd other district received them, the mentors would likely be saving that money for other means, thinking that as long as they have water they'll be alright. So it seemed the only way we were going to assure to win was if we were going to kill a career and take their food. I explained my idea to Maysilee, and we came up with a plan.

We returned to the woods, but this time we weren't trying to find another way to get to the edge of the arena. This time we were hunting careers. We heard the canon go off, before the hovercraft came and collected the body.

"This way!"

We ran in the direction where the tribute was killed, looking out for any enemies. We then saw the smoke rising. A fire. The arrogance! As if they felt like they didn't need to conceal themselves! Another tribute probably was drawn to the fireplace too only to be killed by the career. We approached quietly, and saw them. Two tributes, a boy and a girl. The boy from 2, the other from 1. They were joking about their latest kill. I gripped the tree. I wasn't exactly innocent of killing anyone, but I never took pleasure in what I did! Maysilee grabbed my hand.

"I know," She told me, "But we have to remain focus. We can make them pay for what they did."

Our only chance was to wait for one of them to get far away enough. They decided to split up, to cover more ground. Again, the arrogance! Like they think they don't really need each other to take down the other tributes. This alliance was really an agreement not to kill the other until all the other tributes were dead.

As they split, we decided which one to follow.

"We need the one most threatening. I'd suggest we'd follow the 2."

"Why because he's a boy?"

"No, because he's the bigger and more muscular of the two."

"Size and muscle don't make the winner."

"No, but it's all we've got to go on, plus he's from District 2, so can we make a decision before they disappear?"

"Alright, 2 it is."

And we followed him. We waited until his partner was out of view and far enough away to not hear any commotion, as if we killed him later it would just make her concern that something has happened to him.

"You think you can make a clear shot?" I ask her.

"I think so."

Maysilee raised her blow dart and prepared to fire. That was when a pack of squirrels decided to attack him. He hacked and slashed at them, even getting his sword stuck in a branch before yanking it out. Maysilee couldn't get a clear shot, and if she tried to shoot him now and missed it would just alert us to his presence. He had just finish cutting down the last squirrel when he spotted us. She shot, but he blocked the dart with his sword. He approached. BLOW. BLOW. BLOW. BLOW. With each blow he blocked with his sword until he was sure she was out of a round and then moved in to strike. I moved in between them, using my knife as a shield, but this didn't work as well against someone who had been training all his life to kill. I was knocked to the ground. He tried to plunge his sword in me but I rolled out of the way. I looked at his ankle and thought I just needed to cut close enough to slice when Maysilee hit him with the branch that he hacked in earlier hard on the head. Disoriented, he turned towards Maysilee, at which point I leapt on his back, wrapped my legs around his waist and my left arm around his neck As I stabbed him furiously. I was reminded of the time I showed off my skill to the gamemakers, stabbing the mannequin repeatedly as I was stabbing this guy here. Eventually, he slumped to the ground, but I move my legs and arm in time so that they weren't crushed under his weight. Breathing heavily, the 2 attempted to crawl away. I knew he didn't have much time left. Attempting a mercy kill, I knelt beside, yanked his hair up and sliced his throat. I meant to make his death quick and painless as possible, but I don't think I did it right, as I could hear him gasping for breath. His eye went wide before the canon fired.


You're shocked, aren't you? I can tell. Let me guess. You thought that I only killed out of self-defence? Well I hate to disappoint you, but that's the Hunger Games! It made killers out of anyone! It's not always Careers vs the innocent non-careers! Katniss and Peeta have no idea how lucky they got, to get out of the arena with their souls relatively untainted, that they only ever killed in self-defence, or accidental, or out of mercy. The rest of us weren't so lucky.


After taking the backpack, we went through what he had. Yes! This was more like it! A proper meal, a feast made up of rolls and cheese, apples and the like! This should keep us going for a couple of days, once properly rationed. I tried to give Maysilee the larger share.

"No. We should equally divide the spoils."

"I've told you before, I can handle being hungry-"

"I don't care! You listen to me Haymitch Abernathy! You may be more used to handling with hunger, but we both need food equally! No buts!"

I could see that I wasn't going to win this argument.

"Fine. But if after a couple of days you're complaining about being hungry, don't come crying to me."

After eating our first portion, we went through what else the 2 had. There was a blowtorch. A blowtorch. Hmmm. That gave me an idea.

We returned to the maze, but this time we didn't go left or trying in vain to continue moving in the same direction. This time, whenever we came across a wall, I would use the blowtorch to burn a hole through the wall. And when we got to another hedge, I burnt through another. Then another, then another, until finally, we were out of the maze, but not back in the woods.