Thanks so much to Ro-Lee, Randommmfanatic, and my guest reviewer!
Sloth
The skin of her wrists is smooth and milky white, as if she'd never slashed a dagger through them. The Capitol's doctors are excellent at their trade, reviving dead men walking and disguising the fact that any injuries ever occurred.
Maysilee would have preferred the scars.
She woke along in the Capitol. Twelve's mentor Alasdar was the first person she saw, a strange and unnerving man who hadn't been much of a mentor at all, but he at least told her that Haymitch was alive and warned her to keep up the star-crossed lovers' act before a nurse bustled in with some light fare. Although she was no longer in the arena, Maysilee was still in survivor mode then, and surviving meant putting on a smile and hearts for eyes and nothing less than utter happiness when she and Haymitch had the grand, publicized, onstage reunion.
It isn't until they board the train and pull away from the Capitol, heading for home, that Maysilee drops the mask, shattering it on the ground. She turns to Haymitch, relieved they no longer have to pretend that they've forgotten the horrors of the arena, that they're naive as to what will happen to them next, that they haven't been smashed into a million pieces.
He drops her hand gracelessly and makes a beeline for the bar.
Ah.
Maysilee stands alone there for a moment. She glances over at the table laden with mouthwatering delicacies. Her stomach roils, and she pads silently over to a window seat instead. There, she wraps her arms around her knees and stares, unseeing, out at the blurred landscape.
Dinner is served. Haymitch remains at the bar, cleaning out bottle after bottle. Maysilee stays curled up on the leather bench. Only Alasdar sits at the dining table, half-heartedly poking at his pasta before wandering back into his room.
The ghosts of Sorrel and Donall, the other two tributes from Twelve, starved children from the Seam, linger over the abandoned food.
That night, Maysilee tiptoes to Haymitch's door and knocks. No answer. Hesitantly, she tries to doorknob. Locked. "Haymitch?" she calls out softly.
Silence.
If she screams bloody murder, like she did in the arena, would he come running for her? But she isn't cruel enough, crazy enough, desperate enough to do that to him. Instead, she returns silently to her room and curls into a fetal position on her bed, where she lies awake for the whole night.
Maysilee pastes on a beatific enough smile when they arrive in Twelve, posturing for the cameras. Haymitch holds her hand again, a grin on his lips, but his eyes are dead. Then her sister and Rose and her parents whisk her away. Maysilee has a house now in the Victors' Village, but her family has chosen to remain in their old home in town until Maysilee decides otherwise. The bright colors of the candy shop hurt her eyes, and the smell of chocolate and caramel and sugar remind her of Capitol decadence. When it becomes clear that Maysilee isn't interested in answering their questions or eating her favorite foods that they've set before her, her parents exchange worried looks, and Marj and Rose whisper to each other.
When it's time to go to bed, Maysilee wordlessly drops a pillow and a blanket on the floor before curling up in her nest. Marj watches her with concern, but her gentle prodding elicits no answers. Maysilee presses her face to the pillow and inhales the familiar scent of laundry soap and cedar. She would rather have a boy who smells of the forest.
She is left to her own devices for the most part, but she notices every effort they make to coax her out of her malaise. Marj often plinks along on the piano, while Maysilee's old cello is left conspicuously out; she never goes for the bait. Rose asks her once if she'd like to join her and Jon on an adventure past the fence, but Maysilee shudders at the idea—she's had far too much adventure for one lifetime already—and Rose never brings it up again. Her parents ask if she would be interested in helping to watch the store, and her lack of response is an answer itself.
Then one day Maysilee hears the word 'Haymitch,' and it's like color has come flooding back into a world of black and white. "Haymitch?"
Rose and Marj's jaws drop simultaneously. Rose collects herself first. "Um, yeah. Jon says he's worried about him. He hasn't been that great since you guys came back."
"Maybe it would help if you two talked to each other?" Marj suggests.
Maysilee blinks slowly. She looks between their hopeful faces, and she sees the bags under their eyes, the lines of exhaustion and worry. She clenches her fists—oh, when did her nails get so long?—and kicks herself mentally. This is her fault.
Haymitch.
"Okay," she mutters.
Rose practically runs out the door then and there in search of Jon. Marj pulls her to the piano corner, urging her to play a duet. Maysilee shakes her head, but she listens—really listens—as Marj plays.
When Rose finally returns, she has a troubled expression on her face. Maysilee's stomach lurches.
"What happened?" Marj asks quietly.
"It might be better if I told you later—"
"No." Maysilee stares at her friend. "Tell me everything."
Rose glances anxiously, sorrowfully at her. "Jon and I went to Haymitch's house," she begins haltingly. "His… His girlfriend answered the door." Maysilee's nails dig into her palms. "While we were talking, Haymitch came over. He didn't—didn't look good. And he said...he said...that he's not interested in talking." Rose gulps. "To you."
Maysilee blinks at her once. Twice. At first, she feels...nothing. Empty. Hollow.
Then it all comes rushing at her: dark blue grief, scarlet anger, crimson pain, violet regret. And there's someone sobbing, and Marj and Rose surrounding her with sympathetic words and hugs, and everything hurts.
Eventually her weeping quiets down, and the only noises left are the chirping of her pet songbird, poor, neglected Orpheus. Maysilee gazes as the canary flutters about in his cage, as if trying to get out. Poor Orpheus. She would set him free right now, but he wouldn't survive a day in the wild. He's better off in his cage.
As for herself… She is no coddled songbird. She knows the world now, and the horrible things in it. She could open her cage, right now, the cage that she put herself in, and step out.
There is no we. There's him, and there's me.
"I need to pack."
"What?" Marj and Rose chorus incredulously.
"I have a house waiting for me in the Victors' Village. It's time I moved in. I think I earned it."
Moving into the Victors' Village will bring her close, far too close to Haymitch. But all the better for him to see how well she's moving on and living.
Thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated, and I'll send you a very short snippet of the following chapter!