Helloo!
So here's the new chapter!
It's a shorter one. And it's slightly diverging from the original plot. At first I wanted to write the whole story (or all the chapters, whichever way you prefer) as POV of different people as they watched Katniss. However, once I started writing, there were just so many ideas that came to my mind and that weren't directly about Katniss that I couldn't just pass the oportunity to write them. And so, behold, here is the result!
Some of the other chapters will also follow this tendency (this 3rd person watching the 2nd person watching Katniss).
Also important, and I already mentioned it before, is the fact that I will diverge from cannon (it'll be more obvious in the next one).
And last but not least, thank you for all the positive feedback (reviews, follows and favorites)! (Special thanks to Nikkette, who is the one responsible for making the paragraphs more reader-friendly ;) ) (BTW, you should totally check out her stories, they're great! I haven't read them all but the ones I did read were really good.)
'Till next time ;)
xx
They Watched
Hazelle
Hazelle Hawthorne was a busy woman. What with four children to take care of. Especially since her husband died in the mine. Fortunately her eldest was now old enough to take care of the family and of himself. Well, for the most part. As strong as he was, both in body and mind, and despite the fact that he had been the one taking care of and providing for them, Hazelle knew that he was still just a boy. She saw it in the way he would play with his brothers and his sister. She saw it the way he would always ask for her opinion on something. Most of all she saw it as he struggled to understand his feelings for the girl he met in the forest.
Little Katniss. Oh she wasn't so little anymore but Hazelle had known her since she was a child. She had never really spoken to her before but the Seam wasn't that big. And her husband and the girl's father were both miners and friends. However, she wouldn't have thought that her big boy would end up falling in love with her. Hazelle saw her grow into a strong and fierce young woman. She knew Gale would succumb to her months if not years before he did, or at least before he realized he had. Hazelle loved the child. She was such a sweet person when you got to know her. She was always caring for the children, always giving them the fruits she found in the forest, dividing them equally between Prim and the younger Hawthornes. Hazelle watched fondly as her boy became entranced by the younger girl. Hazelle was happy. She would be a fine woman to spend his life with.
On the day of the Reaping, while relieved that her family was safe one more year, she couldn't help but hurt for the two remaining Everdeens. She also hurt deeply for her boy, who had left just after the train to go into the forest. When he came back it was already nighttime. His jaw was clenched. His eyes glaring at everything. But Hazelle knew. As a mother she knew that her baby boy was hurting. That he was scared despite all his bravado. And who wouldn't be? The one he loved had been taken away to fight over two dozen people to the death.
Hazelle watched the Games. She watched them every year, like everyone else. They didn't have much of a choice. But this year she really watched them. She watched as her son cringed and swore and clenched his fists in fear and anger. She watched as the strong but sweet Katniss was killed. Oh not physically. But Hazelle wasn't blind. She had watched almost forty years of Hunger Games. She had known Haymitch Abernathy before the second Quarter Quell. She knew how destructive the Games were – and she wasn't even thinking about those who never came back from them.
Weeks passed and turned into months. She watched as Gale slowly came to realize that his Catnip might not have come back from the Games. She was now Katniss Everdeen, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. She watched as this fueled Gale's anger at the Capitol. She agreed wholeheartedly with him on the principles but she dearly hoped that he would not do anything foolish. Especially now that new Peacekeepers were here. Of course that had been wishful thinking. In a sense she was proud of her boy for being so loyal to his beliefs but she was a mother and could not help but be terrified he would one day go too far.
When she started working at Haymitch's place she didn't know how to feel. She did not know Haymitch anymore. Only as the drunk he was. But as she spent more time cleaning his house she started to view him differently. Without a doubt his screams and muffled sobs when he didn't realize she was there helped this new understanding along a lot. Hazelle knew he was a broken man but never before had she truly understood the extent of the damage.
One day Katniss came in. It wasn't the first time but this time she asked for a drink. Hazelle was working in silence in the kitchen, none of the Victors realized she was there. Her first reaction was to stand up and go and scold Katniss but something in her voice had kept her away. This had not been the voice of a 16 year old girl. It was as broken as too many people's in the Seam. Too old. Too aware of the cruelties of the world. Haymitch had chuckled, "Be my guest, Sweetheart" he had said. They had drunk in silence for a few minutes. When they started talking Hazelle listened but remained seated in her kitchen chair. It wasn't in her nature to pry but Katniss was someone she had come to care deeply for and she was worried. She couldn't hear everything that they had said but she understood the main ideas. They were talking about the Games. Not the Games per say but their consequences. One of Haymitch's sentences had been slightly louder than the rest: "there are no victors, Sweetheart, only survivors". His voice was dry but soft at the same time, resigned. Hazelle had the feeling this was not the first time he said it. After seeing Haymitch every day she now believed him.
Her heart lurched for Katniss. For her family who would never truly get her back. For her son, who would have to watch her wither away. And most of all, for Katniss herself. Hazelle, after the third time she found the two of them drinking, knew without a doubt that Haymitch and Katniss where very much alike. She would wither away and would never recover from her Games. Hazelle didn't think that she'd become an alcoholic, but she was undoubtedly broken way beyond repair.
Because she spent so much time at Haymitch's Hazelle knew fairly quickly what her son took months to figure out: a Victor never leaves the arena. She could see it in the way Haymitch always checked every exit in a room when he entered it, no matter his apparent level of intoxication. She could see it on the way he jumped when something slipped her hand and banged on the floor (after one week she made sure never to drop anything again). She saw it in the way he always managed to have something sharp within reach. She saw it in the way Katniss walked. In the way she was always aware of her surroundings (it must be exhausting to live like that). She saw it in the small scratch on his ear Gale came home with one Sunday (oh she didn't resent Katniss for that – she actually thought Gale had taken a risk by approaching her silently). She saw it in the way Katniss would wake up Haymitch most of the time (always planning an escape route before anything and always mindful of the knife that would always slash the air, sometimes even knocking it off the hand holding it). This routine was very telling in itself. Hazelle had half a mind to have Gale watch it so that he could understand better. Katniss had become a fighter.
The poor kid had been in survival mode since her father died. The Games had only just sent her deeper and now she was struggling to come back.
The day they announced the Quarter Quell Hazelle watched Gale explode. She had closed her eyes for a few seconds, hurting for Katniss. Gale had cried that evening. Hazelle had held him as the tears ran down his face. Gale wasn't stupid. He knew that she would not get out of the arena this time. As she held her eldest son while he mourned for the one he loved Hazelle let a few tears of her own slip on her cheeks. She could not imagine the horror the Victors must be feeling right now. Not only Katniss and Haymitch and Peeta, but all of them. They were supposed to be safe and be left in peace (little did she know that one Johanna Mason would spit these exact same words to Caesar Flickerman a few months later).
Hazelle Hawthorne was a busy woman but she saw a lot. She could speak for hours about the things she saw, about Gale, about Katniss, about Haymitch. But all the things she had seen would not prepare her for what was coming: once more she would have to watch her son watch his Catnip fight. Once more she would have to watch this butchery. Only this time Hazelle would have to watch as a 17 year old girl entered an arena full of experienced and angry killers. This time, Katniss Everdeen would not come back.
A/N: small reward for bearing with my long A/N : sneak peak : the next chapter will be ...
*suspense*
Prim's POV!
