Drunken Thoughts
Bottles
Written by: HappyHowler4myLuver
*HG-CF-MJ*
"Sometimes you tell the day
By the bottle that you drink
And times when you're alone
And all you do is think."
-Jon Bon Jovi
Monday
I reach for the bottle clumsily as Katniss' screams continue. Another night, another nightmare. Nothing new for either of us, but it'd be considerate if she could do it more quietly. The rough taste of whiskey suffocates my tongue, but unfortunately not my ears. It's bad enough to hear the voices in my head without her contribution.
The screaming subsides, and I can only guess Peeta is with her. Only a few years after the games and she's still as lost as she was when she was first participating. Of course, that's only natural. I never got over my experience. Katniss is stronger than anyone gives her credit for. She's stronger now than I've ever been, but I'll never say it to her face. Satisfaction would do nothing emotionally for us, and so I swig another gulp of whiskey.
Whiskey's always been a personal favorite of mine. It's harsh and unforgiving, but rewarding if you can stand it. Pungent, like the smell of blood at the Cornucopia. It's also cheap, another way whiskey and I are similar. When the screams reawaken, I finish the bottle, not caring that the liquor is running down the ends of my mouth. I just want to escape, to leave, to die here and now. But dying would be too easy, and who knows if the next world I'm headed to is any better.
Tuesday
I hate sunlight. It's just a futile reminder that once again I've received the sentence of living another day as a free murderer. I curse as I fumble down the stairs. I'm in no mood for talk from Greasy Sae, but luck has returned for me. I nearly climb into the fridge to find something to calm my shaking nerves, and settle for an opened beer in the back.
I don't hate beer, it's just not as strong as my usually preferences. I finish the drink in a single swallow, forcing the alcohol to take command of my brain and memories. My headache lessens and I kick away my shoes as I walk out the door. My hair's not combed, I'm wearing clothes that are a few days old, but they understand. Except they don't. They never can, lucky bastards.
The bartender grabs a beer before I can fall into a stool. I stare at the bottle, confused.
"Wha's this?"
"Beer. It's Tuesday."
Tuesday? What the hell's Tuesday got to do with anything? Damn Tuesday! But I take the beer anyway, finish it, and a few more. Once you've had a half dozen, the taste slowly vanishes, and it's almost like you're not drinking weak piss water.
Fine. I do hate beer.
Wednesday
I remember when I first took a shot of vodka. Absolutely hideous when you drink it alone, but it works a hell of a lot faster without the weak additions.
It was sometime after my reign as Victor, and I kept to myself about most things. The contestants meant nothing to me at the time, and it's a solid argument if they do now. But she never left my mind, and that's when I discovered the magic of alcohol. Magic, good or bad, saved my life, although once I grew into the drunken asshole I am now there's not much reason to save me anymore. Yet I'm still alive, still breathing the polluted air and drinking the same poison my fallen comrades didn't have the opportunity to enjoy.
Vodka isn't for the fainthearted, but I guess being completely heartless makes you immune to the rule. I may have looked out for Katniss, but it's because I saw in her what I once had the possibility to become. I never saw her as a daughter, per se, but as a second chance at a life I could never know. Keeping her alive is probably the worst decision I'll ever make, but I couldn't regret it.
I can't afford vodka, no one can outside the first two districts, but they have no need for the liquor's true strength. Nostalgia brings me back to vodka days, and even though I recall nothing of that era, I look back on the time and smile. Maybe if I'd been drinking during the games, I wouldn't need the bottle now.
Friday
"Get off your lazy ass and do something for yourself!"
"Yeah, because you do that so well on your own."
"I hate you, Haymitch! I hate you more than that Trinket bitch!"
Ouch. Now that's hurtful.
I'm not sure exactly what Katniss is yelling about, but I shrug it off and slip into my liquor cabinet. I pull out a bottle of cheap wine, red I think. I'm not entirely sure, but I do now the slow stupor I'm sinking into is as a close to an escape as I'll ever be.
I'm not even sure why Katniss is in my house. Unless I'm in hers, and then I'm not aware of how I got here in the first place. Maybe that's why she's upset. Maybe Peeta upset her, but then again how can the angel boy do any wrong in the princess' eyes? God, the lust between them makes me sick. I'd vomit if I had the will to waste the alcohol that's currently invading my veins. I take another drink, but slowly, savoring the taste.
Katniss bangs on the door. "Haymitch, you said you'd pick up the shipment on Thursday!"
"It is Thursday."
"It's Friday, you brainless moron! Can't you even tell what day it is?"
I look down at the bottle in my hand, grinning. "It's Wine Day! Drink up, sweetheart!"
Saturday
The bartender passes me a glass of caramel colored happiness. I tip back my head a bit as my tongue sinks into a bliss the rest of my body will never know. My tongue laps in the swish of the liquid and I swallow with momentary gleefulness. Bourbon makes a man happy.
The older man moves on to the rest of his customers, chatting occasionally. I'm glad I'm not under obligation to banter about frivolous subjects not even worth mentioning. However, as my glass nears empty, I garner the bartender's attention for another. He reaches for the bottle, but pauses as he stares. Just as I'm about to lash out, he sets the bottle of bourbon down beside my glass, returning to his conversation. Instead of taking back my words, I change the victim and curse out Snow as I lift the bottle. Dead or not, he's still a jackass.
Sunday
I sit calmly, listening to her cry. It's not an insanity inducing scream like the nightmares of the Hunger Games, but rather a nostalgic recollection of her old life. I don't hold Katniss, or speak when she's silent, because we understand the other. We understand that we will never repair the gaps in our lives, and so we know better than to try.
"I miss Prim."
"I know."
The bottle is in my view, but Katniss is too strong to take up alcohol, and so my pride prevents me from taking it at her weakest moment. Mentor or not, I wanted her to represent the Mockingjay against her initial will, and I remember the young girl she should have died trying to protect. She pulls her body closer to her chest.
"I miss my dad."
"I know."
I clench my fists as I lower my head. My own memories burst to the forefront, threatening to explode after so many years of being repressed. I never knew her father, I can't even remember the man's name, but I know from her tears he was a good man. If he had been alive, he could have saved her from a rough childhood before her entire life ended in her teenage years. But for us, pondering over what ifs only worsens our conditions.
"You need a drink."
"I… what?"
Her hands shaking from crying, she manages to walk over and lift the bottle without any risk of dropping it. I take it eagerly, unwitting to what I was consuming. But I drank it without worries, and I drowned my pride with ease.
"I miss Gale."
I lowered the bottle, shutting my eyes. I can't lie and say it'll be okay, but you're never alone, Katniss. I'm here, and as long as I'm still alive in this God forsaken town I will be here. I understand, and I won't let anymore pain come to you. I'll tear down anymore battles that show up at the door! Because whether you've got Peeta, or Greasy Sae, or anyone, you know you're all I have, and you're all I've cared about since my games. It's not okay, but you're not alone! I open my eyes, the tears never forming. Katniss is still rolled into a ball, and I take a breath, knowing what she wants to hear.
"I know."
*HG-CF-MJ*
Thank you all for 1,000+ hits on this story! Keep reviewing and alerting, and keep the memory of Haymitch Abernathy alive in case the movie doesn't do him justice.
~HappyHowler4myLuver