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Fractures

3rd Quarter Quell Announcement

I clutched the bottle to me as if it were my only lifeline. It was still cool to the touch, but its contents burned through my entire body. I felt hollow, as if the only thing remotely alive in me was the alcohol that dulled the pain in my head and heart.

The boy had already come to see me. He no longer begged for me to help him, but demanded that he go back to the arena instead. He had prattled on a list of reasons: physical fitness, my reliance on the bottle, the friends I've known for years that I would have to kill in order to save her.

I took another swig.

None of it matters anyway. Whoever's name gets pulled first knows the other man will volunteer right away. I'll save them both if I can.

Another long drink.

Damn her to hell for being so selfish. That boy cares more about her that his own damn life, and she can barely look past her own fears. Well, we all have fears, and I'll be damned if she's the only one who get's to wallow in self-pity.

The bottle clinks that it is empty, and with a yell I toss it hard against the opposite wall. It shatters into pieces. Just like the rest of my world. I grab another, preparing myself for when she finally pulls herself together to see me. I know she will, because we are too much alike, and I know exactly how she thinks.

It's another hour at least before she arrives, and by that time I'm drunk, sad, and angry. I could give a fuck how she feels right then.

I see her wander into the kitchen, looking lost and frightened. One of her hands was bleeding, but she doesn't even glance at it. I grip my knife tightly in my hand, reminding myself that I have just as right to be as pissed and frightened as she does. That this was not just about her.

"Ah, there she is," I say sardonically. "All tuckered out. Finally did the math, did you, sweetheart? Worked out you won't be going in alone? And now you're here to ask me...what?"

Katniss winces but says nothing. She stares around the room, as if trying to find an answer to her question. She wraps her arms around her stomach tightly, digging her nails into her ribs. I watch her try to keep herself together, but by that time I've stopped caring.

I take another gulp, watching her shiver in the chill from the wind. "I'll admit, it was easier for the boy. He was here before I could snap the seal on a bottle. Begging me for another chance to go in. But what can you say?" My voice slices into her, and I silently relish the fact that I can hurt somebody, anybody, for this unfair torture that has fallen on me. On us. Her nails dig harder into her skin. There are sure to be bruises in the morning.

'Take his place, Haymitch, because all things being equal, I'd rather Peeta had a crack at the rest of his life than you?'" I put on a high-pitched voice, mocking her while she struggles to find something to say.

However, she surprises me. As if realizing there was nothing left to do, she pulls herself together with a shake of her head and says, "I came for a drink."

I start to laugh. It's too much. She's already given up, just like I have. How similar we must be if this is where she finds herself, wanting to escape into the bottle. I want to hit her for giving up so soon, but I pass her the bottle with a laugh as she sits. She's still hunched over, holding the fracturing pieces of herself together, but I watch as the alcohol slowly seals over those cracks.

She took a few more hurtful comments I threw at her: Peeta thinking about her before himself, actually wanting to go in to protect her. How she needed to know that she would never ever deserve him. She takes them all, denying nothing. I watch as the alcohol slowly begins to numb her as well. Her grip begins to loosen on her ribs.

Then she snaps me out of my drunken, pissed off state of mind by asking me one thing. "If it is Peeta and me in the Games, this time we try to keep him alive."

My grip tightens on the knife in my hand, and my jaw clenches. Unknowingly, Katniss has dished all the pain I had been giving her tonight right back.

Damn her.

The Train

My heart nearly lodges itself in my throat when a scream shatters through the night. For a second I think that it might have been part of my dream, but then I realize tonight I wasn't tortured by the images of the past. The Capital's wine had done a good job numbing my brain tonight.

Another scream slices through the silence of the night.

I jump out of the chair that I had deposited myself in before I passed out, and yank open the door to the hall. I pad lightly down the corridor, and am about to completely turn the corner when I catch sight of a figure out of the corner of my eye. I pull back, using only my head to peer around the corner.

Katniss is standing in the doorway of her chamber. Her body is leaning against the frame for support, and she is clutching the handle of her door as if it were her lifeline. Her breathing is coming shaky pants, as if she had been running or crying for an extended amount of time.

My heart constricted in my chest. I knew what those nightmares were like. It was no shock to anyone that they were why I turned to the bottle in the first place. Watching Katniss trying to pull herself together in that doorway caused the faces of so many long gone to flash in front of my eyes.

I watched as a small chill ran up her spine, and looked at her robe as if she just realized it was there. Offering a small amount of protection, she pulls it tightly around her and makes her way in the opposite direction down the hall.

I watch her turn the corner towards the television room, and considered turning back to my own compartment. I was unfit to offer any sense of comfort. How could I console a girl who was barely keeping herself from breaking down, when I can't keep the same horrifying nightmares away myself? What could I possibly have to offer her at this time?

And then I remembered how similar the two of us were. Her focus would be on Peeta's survival. If there were anything I could offer them that could distract and soothe their troubled minds, it would be advice on how to stay alive. Review some more tapes with them. Peeta was probably still in the television room anyway.

First, however, I'd need another drink.