Panem

by gethsemane342

It is the people who make the country and thus it is the people who should be examined. A series of 44 oneshots, featuring most names on the character list plus a few extras. Would be every name but it was written before the list updated.

23. Haymitch Abernathy: Essence

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.

A/n: Possibly dodgy proof-reading due to tiredness. Enjoy :)

23) Haymitch Abernathy – Essence

In the days after their deaths, Haymitch locked himself away from the rest of District 12. Not that anyone much cared. By then, people had gotten over the idea of having another victor. Someone – he thought it was probably Al – occasionally knocked on his door, but he ignored that. He wanted nothing to do with these people.

It was strange, in a way, that three deaths could cause such a reaction in him. It hadn't been long since he'd taken part in the Quarter Quell and seen death close up or since he'd watched the recap and seen forty-seven teenagers die – some for the second time in his life. He thought he would be hardened to death by now. But, no: it was like a dull pain which never went away. Maybe because this was his mother, brother and girlfriend who had died and not some kids he barely knew. Maybe because they died because he dared to live.

He couldn't bear to go outside. That was where they were: his family roamed the coal-dusted streets of District 12. The mines and the roads leading to it carried his mother's weary trudging and constant worry. His brother ran around in the schoolyard, trying to get with as many girls as he could manage. His own girl was in the main square, looking at the shops and talking about the days when they would be able to afford all of it – the days which would never come.

Even with people in the district, he could see his family. Every couple walking through the district was him and his girl, lost in their own world. His mother was chatting to other people in the Seam and bringing home the occasional miner as his new father, just like the woman on Elde Street. His brother was sitting with the teenage guys, trying to think of a way to avoid the mines and feed their families. Plotting pointlessly, in other words.

Maybe this house isolated him from society but the thing was, they had made almost no impression there. Their essence was there – of course it was; it would never leave him – but not so much as to make it unbearably painful.

The only way to get rid of their essence – if only for a short time – was alcohol. None of them had ever been able to afford it to drink. He told himself he would only use it until he could walk around the district without seeing them. As a way of helping him to cope. A short term thing.

He never gave it up.