Drunken Thoughts
One in the Same
Written by: HappyHowler4myLuver
*HG-CF-MJ*
She sits quietly, both hands grasping the glass as the condensation rolls over her knuckles. The bar is relatively empty as the morning arrives, but the darkness remains. She hasn't moved for a while now, but the bartender knows her kind. She never participated in the games, but Effie Trinket has seen as much blood and scars as any tribute. Ever since its end, she's lived with relief and guilt, but more than anything, she's lost. Without the Hunger Games, without the war looming over her head, Effie no longer knows what her purpose in life is. Perhaps she never really had one.
The door hastily swings open and Haymitch Abernathy staggers in. Already thoroughly drunk, he raises a finger as he steals a bar stool. The bartender hurries with a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey, but Haymitch stops him with his incoherent blabber. The older man sighs before handing the entire bottle of liquor to the victor. The drunk drinks for countless moments before pausing to breath. For the first time, he gazes around the room and finally spots the former announcer.
She knows him, he knows her, but neither knows how to address the other. Eventually Haymitch steps down from his seat, barely catching himself before falling on his ass. He sways to the chair just two away from Effie and slumps against the bar to hold him up. She's never moved an inch, her palms growing numb from the increasing cold. Haymitch motions to the bartender an understood gesture.
"Lil far f'om home," he slurs, taking a gulp of his whiskey.
"What home?" she murmurs. Haymitch ceases his drinking, studying her. She turns to face him, shocked by the serious expression etched across his face.
"Th' one ya lived in, back 'n District 2." She can't even smirk as she takes a small swig of her beer. Haymitch waits until the bartender brings him a bottle of vodka and two regular-sized glasses. He pours two drinks, never spilling a drop. He picks up the cup and hands it too her. She finally releases her beer and takes him, holding it up with his.
"Cheers," she states, and he nods before they both drink. Effie's clear inexperience is written across her visage and Haymitch smiles. "What brings you here this late at night?"
"Late? It's one 'n th' morning—I'm early, sweetheart."
Effie chuckles. "I see. So why so early? Afraid the booze will disappear without you here to drink it all?"
His face darkens. "Don' even joke 'bout such tragic affairs." However, he smiles as he finishes his vodka, his speech miraculously sobered. "It's the only bar in town, and this shipment usually arrives before my personal deliveries. But enough about me, what about you? Why so far away?"
"I was traveling on the train, waiting until I saw somewhere that reached out to me to get off and stay."
Haymitch's eyebrows raised. "And you chose this town? District 13's doing better than we are."
"District 12's never appealed to me, no offense intended."
"None taken, it's never appealed me to me either."
"I guess I figured that this was the only place left in Panem that wouldn't condemn me to Hell for coming."
Her hands return to their former position, wrapped tightly around her new glass. Haymitch smirks frighteningly. "You figured wrong. I've hated you since I first heard your voice. However, here in District 12, the majority of us know where we're going in the end, so we'd rather get along in this life so it's not awkward in the next."
Effie returns his darkened expression. "I'll toast to that philosophy." Their glasses clanked and both down the liquor. Effie sighs, letting go of the glass. "How do you do it, Haymitch? How do you manage to get through to see the next morning?"
"I don't, that's why I drink. I killed so many people, so many innocent kids, just so I could spend the rest of my life wishing I was dead."
"I feel like I was in them. I'm a monster, and no matter what I do from this moment on, I can never redeem myself. I'm such a beast no God would filth his hands by saving me." Haymitch watches her, waiting for her to explode in anger, rage, and tears. But she continues to stay in her position, her eyes never wandering from her hands.
"We're all monsters. Who knows, maybe you're right," Haymitch responds, raising his glass a few inches before setting it down without taking a drink. "We know we're not at fault, we killed because we were forced, and yet we're the guilty ones. Damn Capitol. I almost wish they'd get saved, just so I don't have to spend an eternity with them. But you, on the other hand," he pauses, staring straight ahead. Effie watches him from the corner of her eye, waiting for him to spew out curses she's never even heard.
"I wouldn't mind having to see you for the rest of my existence."
Effie feels her entire mind halt. Despite knowing their rocky relationship, or rather their rough moments as acquaintances, the confession contains a hint of truth to it. They both regret the Hunger Games, for reasons spoken and not needing explanation, but she never would have thought that a former tribute could come to tolerate her after her unforgiving actions as the announcer.
"I'd have to agree with you there, Haymitch, but I can't quite understand how philosophical you're sounding with all this alcohol in your blood."
He smirks, taking another swig. "The more I drink, the more sober I get. I drink to forget, but each day, when that damned sun rises, I realize you can't forget your past any easier than you can erase it. So, I've accepted the fact that I lived through a shitty childhood and a murdering adolescence which led to my pathetic adulthood. In the end, no matter what, the only thing left for me to do is nothing, because that's all I can do about it."
Effie exhales deeply and quietly as Haymitch stands, swaying on his feet. He nods to the bartender, slurring his words and fumbling over a combination of his feet and the floor.
She knew it was an act, Haymitch knew it, and the bartender knew it. But after a person knows him, truly knows his past, they can't blame him for his perspective on life. Effie grips the glass in her hands, replaying her darkest moments in the spotlight.
She hates to admit the truth after so many years of lying with a smile, but when the night ends and the liquor's gone, the only truth that she knows for certain is that she and every other tribute is one is the same. They will never stop regretting their past, and they will regret that they can't stop.
*HG-CF-MJ*