Okay. I have no excuse except: Life has been absolutely insane. I went from working part time and going to school full time to quitting school and working full time, I got promoted, and I went back to california.
I am now back, settled, and ready to start a new adventure in my life, which includes (hopefully) doing more writing. No promises, because I know I can't keep those when it comes to writing and I will do spurts of really consistent writing that gets more and more lax over time.
How about I treat you guys to a nice, long chapter of Haymitch's life.
Again, come follow me on tumblr at haymitchabernathyisbae (I cannot put the link here or in my bio, but I will do more posting there more often because it's easier to use on my phone. I will try to post once a week, hopefully friday nights while I'm at work.
I love you all so much for sticking with these stories, I know I'm a little more unprofessional than I should be. I'm gonna try to get as much of these stories finished before I get back into a bad spell though.
I'm also going to put a list of stories I want to do up on both my profile and on my tumblr. So please follow me there for more steady updates, and I love you. Stay sane, friends.
~B
This story contains mature topics regarding alcoholism, the effects of war, death, abuse, and attempted suicide.
I do not own any of Suzanne Collins' works or characters, and I am not a paid publisher of fanfiction.
This chapter in particular is set during The Games themselves. You will get a paragraph of background, and the rest is set in the past. Thank you for reading.
I sit at the table, surrounded by the wealthy community of Eleven, which seems to be smaller than that even of Twelve. The mayor, his wife, and their young daughter stare me down with the same round, brown eyes and out-of-place smiles. We eat our salad in silence. Even Verida, usually up-beat and pert, never not talking, seems to take the silence in stride and chews her slightly wilted salad. It's all I can do not to scream. The thought of sitting here with the same people who have so little care and so much disregard for the state of their District fills me with such contempt, rage…
I swallow a bite that has turned sour on my tongue and reach up, napkin in hand, to wipe my face. I clear my throat and open my mouth when my escort shoots me a stern, long, reproachful look. She shimmies a bit in her seat, swallowing and clearing her throat in turn.
"Mayor Turner, may I ask you how it is you have such lovely oranges in the height of winter?" Veridia says.
"Well," he responds, looking pleased. His tone brightens as he begins a long-winded speech about greenhouses, climate, the seasonal difference between this part of Panem and ours, deeply hidden in the mountains. I groan internal and return to my salad, wishing to be anywhere else. As my mind begins to drift, I look across the table to the young girl who resembles so heartily the child that was killed in the bloodbath of The Games. She stares me down, not eating, but looking at me in such an intense way I can almost feel her fury emanating across the table.
"I knew her. I knew all of them." The girl interrupts her father's rambling speech. Her voice is light, as though talking about the weather, but I can see in her eyes she is all spit and fire. "They were good people, and they died, and we're just sitting here talking about oranges." She shoved her chair back and stormed out of the room. I'd never seen someone act that way before, especially not someone of merchant class.
The mayor sits in silence, eyes wide. "I am, oh goodness, I am so sorry about Rose. She's not usually that way." He excuses himself, and two Peacekeepers follow him out of the room. His wife smiles at all of us in a small, meek way.
"Well, I suppose I should escort you all to the train. Thank you very much for coming tonight." she says, lips and fingers trembling.
The walk out to the train, which is stationed just behind the mayor's house, is a short but tense one. The sound of Veridia's clicking heels and the Peacekeepers stomping boots has me shaking in an almost uncontrollable fury. I slam onto the train, ignoring the cameras trained on me. No use giving the impression that I'm happy about my situation, not that it matters much. The Capitol already loathes me for my win.
I sink onto a bed that has been changed since I was on the train but four hours ago. The feathery quilt is a different pattern now, too bright for sleep, yet I sink underneath it, flask clenched too tightly in my hand. I drink long, deep pulls, and wait for the sweet alcohol to lull me into sleep.
"Good evening everyone! Welcome to the Second Quarter Quell. Please remain stationed on your platforms and wait for the countdown. You may now enter the tubes."
I look to my stylist, who nods and gestures me a little to energetically in. My stomach hurts. I try to remember my plan, but my brain is fogged with fear and a hangover so deep my eyes burn even at the artificial light. I step into the tube and await its slow ascent.
"Ten seconds."
I stare down at shoes that contour to my feet, not quite the boots from home; these are stronger, thicker, have more grip. They almost stick to the slip-proof surface of the elevation platform I stand on. Slowly, it begins to rise. I kneel down, feeling sick rising in my throat. The last thing I need is to throw up in this closed tube. The chute opens and bright yellow sunlight streams onto me from above. I stand just before reaching the top, shielding my eyes from the light of the Arena.
The Cornucopia is bigger than anything I had ever seen, a massive structure that is surrounded by fifty platforms, all bringing up children and almost-adults of different heights and builds and - with some - terrifying strength. I see Maysilee standing just four people away from me, shaking with fear. She catches my eye and jerks her head just slightly. I jerk my head in the direction of the other two from twelve slowly enough to make it look almost natural. She nods imperceptibly. We stare at the giant, gold horn, filled to the brim with things that, from this distance, I can barely make out. I look around us; we stand in a meadow, shimmering in an almost irridescent way. I squint; there is a mountain in the distance, tip submerged in pearly white clouds. To the west is more of the same, shimmering field. To the north, a forest which leads to the mountain. I turn my head slightly. Just to my right, tall, thick grasses that scream to be hidden in.
"Ten."
I recount the plan in my head.
"Nine."
The plan me and Maysilee had thought of on the roof the night before.
"Eight."
Grab the other members of Twelve -
"Seven."
together, try to get something - anything from the Cornucopia -
"Six."
and run -
"Five."
don't die -
"Four."
don't fight -
"Three."
don't even make eye contact with each other -
"Two."
just grab each other, grab something -
"One."
and -
The gun goes off, a bang so loud it rings in my ears, and I bolt off my platform so fast I feel my feet catching in the shining grass. These shoes were not made for fast travel, but long. I keep going, swinging my arms hard to keep myself balanced. Robert is next to me in an instant, but I see Annabelle rooted to the spot on her platform, crouched with her hands over her head. I can hear her screaming, but make a beeline for the Cornucopia.
"HAYMITCH!" Maysilee is pulling Annabelle off the platform, sprinting away, running from the Careers and the Bloodbath, and me. I look to her, taking my eyes off the Cornucopia just long enough for a tall Career to throw all his weight into me and knock me breathless, off my feet, and sprawling into the shining grasses below me. I scramble away, Robert dragging me up with him, and turn, and we dead sprint away from the Cornucopia into the tall grass. It covers me up to my shoulders, Robert just above his head. Maysilee is crouched fifty feet in, a tired yet stern look on her face. "What the FUCK were you thinking?!" she whispers, but it feels like a yell.
"I was doing -"
"That plan was as good as thrown out the window when Annabelle couldn't get her ass off the platform and away from the Bloodbath." Annabelle sobs harder into her hands, eyes wide and red. "Shut up! Jesus, you'd think you want us all to die!" Maysilee turns and pushes through the grass.
We take turns watching for a while at the divide between the tall grass and the empty stretch of field. We wandered for a while before finding ourselves back at the Cornucopia field, tired, hungry, and having listened to the Bloodbath cannon blasts. They still rang in my head. Which eighteen children had died? Who had come away victorious? Were we the only district that was still together? I can see the Careers from my place stationed at watch, yet I'm too nervous to move out subtly to count them. The darker it gets, the more I want to move into the woods. The woods are where it's safe, where I'd always felt safest with James, with Maggie, even with Evie, my girl. I looked back to where Robert and Annabelle lay together, almost sleeping. Maysilee has her eyes trained on me, and I look at her, smiling.
"What?" she mouths, crossing her brows. I suppose smiling isn't the proper response to the situation I was currently in, but the harder and longer I look at her, the more beautiful she becomes. I shake my head and look away, trying to think harder of Evie.
"Look, Haymitch, I see the way you look at Maysilee. Why haven't you talked to her yet?"
"Evie, you're my girl."
"No, Mitch, I'm not. We're just friends, remember?"
"Ha, alright."
"That's what you wanted before this Reaping! You're scared you'll be drawn or I'll be drawn and we'll be alone, isn't that what this is?"
"Evie, shut up, alright? Just friends, got it."
"Plus, you've always loved Maysilee. You never stay when she's with Maggie, you've never even spoken to her. It's like you're afraid."
"I'm not afraid of shit."
"Then fucking do something!"
Evie storms out of my bedroom. I hear the front door slam, hard and loud against its wooden frame. I lay back on my bed and stare at the ceiling.
"Haymitch." Maysilee's hand on my arm stirs me.
"Hmm? What?" I say, distracted by my last memory of the girl I was supposed to love.
"Let's move, the Careers are all sleeping. We can slip down to the edge of the grass and cut across behind the 'copia." she whispers, and then moves to wake the other two. "Remember," she says, hushed. "Careful."
We move together towards the edge of the tall grass, and the hurriedly, and hunched over, sprint behind the Cornucopia, into the woods. We all spring upright fifty feet in and run as fast as we can, as hard as we can, until all we can see around us is woods. A stream trickles nearby, and Annabelle runs to it before Maysilee can grab her, dropping to her knees.
"Annabelle, no-" Annabelle dips her hands in and moves them to her mouth, drinking deep and hard.
"What?" she says, looking back. "It's just water." Maysilee's expression turns sad, almost hurting. Annabelle shrugs and turns back to the water, drinking more and more. Maysilee shakes her head. Suddenly Annabelle freezes, back rigid.
"Fuck." I mutter as Annabelle coughs and sputters and falls face first into the running water, which turns red after it passes her. The cannon blasts.
"What-" Robert starts.
"Everything in this forest - everything in this Arena will kill you. The only food you will find will be at the Cornucopia. Which means I was wrong bringing us in here. Fuck!" Maysilee kicks a rock, which rolls away a little. I move towards her as she begins to break down. "What the fuck do we do?! The Careers will guard that Cornucopia until-"
"Let's break up." says Robert, a little fearfully.
"What?"
"The kid's right. Let's break up." I say suddenly, moving away from her.
"What are you talking about?"
"Just for now." I murmur to her.
"Fine, whatever. Good fucking luck." Maysilee storms away and soon, she is lost to the trees.
"Kid, good luck." I say, turning to him.
"What? I only said that to get her out of here. She's a bitch, and we don't need her. I want to win, and you're gonna help me." says Robert, voice stronger than it had been since I'd met him on the train.
"Uh, no." I say, laughing.
"Uh, yes. You're stronger and smarter than me, and you're going to help me, or I'm going to kill you." Robert lunges forward, grabbing me and throwing me to the ground. "Got it?" He sits on my chest, hands around my throat. "GOT IT?"
I push against him, grabbing his shirt and struggling against his weight. "F-fine." I splutter. He pushes up off of me, choking me for a moment. I lay on the ground, stunned.
"Let's go," he says. "I have a plan to get food and weapons from the Careers." He turns his back on me and begins to walk away. I watch him from my spot on the ground and think, hard. A dangerous, reckless twelve year-old was the last thing I needed to keep track of in the games. I'd be better off on my own. My heart begins to race as I realize my only option. He had to die.
Again! I'm so sorry for not posting. I try to promise to make posts more consistent. I love you all. Please read, favorite, follow and review. I am planning out a writing schedule and will try to post one chapter for each story a week. Follow me on tumblr: .com .