I would have died
I would have loved you all my life
I wake with a start the next morning, which may or may not have something to do with the fact that Marianna is banging loudly on my bedroom door.
"Maysilee!" she shouts. "Get up!"
I groan and literally fall out of bed, onto the cold wooden floor. Needless to say, last night was not a good night. I barely slept; and was kept awake with nightmares about the deaths of my loved ones - my parents, Madeleine, Carrie. I'm pretty sure even Haymitch made an appearance.
I force myself to get up and jump into the shower, letting the warm water ease the stress and the pain of the last two days off of my mind. It works for a few minutes, but then the water shuts off and I am left just as distressed and wounded as before.
My hair dries quickly, with the help of some high-tech Capitol technology, leaving it fall in a shiny, glossy curtain around my face. When I retreat back to my bedroom, I find a strange set of clothes on my bed, which I know can only be my training uniform. It consists of a tight black t-shirt, with '12' printed on the shoulders, and black trousers.
I head down to the dining room, where, yet again, I am last to arrive. Of course, Haymitch, Trey and Astrid are dressed identically to me.
"Saved you a seat, sweetheart," Haymitch says as I sit down beside him.
"Oh, aren't you kind?" I say sarcastically.
Things have been a little tense between us ever since last night, when he confronted me about my implying that I find him attractive. I feel bad, though, about lashing out at him like that. But I was just angry. And scared. Scared, because I don't want to get wrapped up into an even deeper longing for Haymitch, because I know that we'll only end in tragedy.
"Today's your first day of training," Brandon announces, as if this is news to us. "And I want you all to show your strength. Those of you who aren't experienced in the way of weapons, do your best to try out each and every station. It's very imperative that you do so." He smiles a little nastily in Haymitch's direction. "You'd have to be an idiot not to."
A soft growl escapes the back of Haymitch's throat, and I get the sense that these two do not like each other very much.
"Well!" Marianna breaks the tension hanging in the air. "I'd best get you kids down to Training! Follow me!"
In less than a couple of short minutes, we're standing in a huge room, surrounded by weapons of every kind. Axes, maces, bows, swords. A madman's dream come true. But weapons aren't the only thing on display in this twisted gymnasium of sorts. There's also stations where we can learn how to ignite fires, climb trees, tie knots, and more.
The other tributes stand around talking for a little while, until Atala, a dark-haired woman, calls us to order. She begins to read down through the list of rules, which I'm not really listening to, since I'm a sickeningly obedient person and I probably won't be breaking any of these regulations. The last thing I want to do is draw any unwanted attention towards myself.
As she's talking, my eyes flit around to my fellow tributes. The fact that there are more than double the amount of opponents this year is all the more frightening than usual. My heart sinks as I realize that almost all of them are bigger than me.
I think back to what Brandon said:
"Well, you look like a strong girl. I'm sure you'd be able to hold off any attackers in a hand-to-hand combat situation."
But holding off any of these monstrous giants before me seems an almost impossible feat, now that I am witness to their size and their intimidating muscles. If I'm feeling this way, I can only imagine what tiny Astrid – who is trembling in fear beside me – must be thinking.
I notice a couple of the guys – namely the ones from 2 and 10 – looking me up and down, smirking. I glare at them, teeth clenched, knowing that they must be thinking of my costume at the Opening Ceremonies. Ugh. I will never live that down. If, in the unlikely event that I make it home, I know that Madeleine will never let me forget the horrors of that revealing outfit.
But then I'm brought back to reality, because Atala is telling us that we have until lunchtime to train vigorously. She advises us to sample each and every station – even the survival-based ones – and sets us free.
I watch, numb to the bone, as the brutish pack of Careers run to the deadliest looking weapons in the gym. They're like twisted demons, laughing and joking as they slice the heads off dummies with their new-found axes and spears. I can't help flinching as the girl from 1 drives a mace deep into the heart of a dummy.
"Hey," Haymitch whispers, coming up from behind me. "So uh, where do you want to start?"
"You want to...train with me?" I ask in disbelief.
He rolls his eyes, like this is plainly obvious. "Well, seeing as those two are gone off together..." He points towards Astrid and Trey, who are over by the fire-starting station. I distinctly remember that Trey has a little sister back home. Maybe Astrid reminds him of her, I think sadly.
I turn back to Haymitch, and he's looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. I hesitate, taking a moment to think this through.
If I train with Haymitch, it's more likely we'll get closer and get to know each other better. And I don't want to get close to that boy. Well, I do. Believe me, I do. If we weren't being forced into an arena to fight to the death together, that is. I know that us getting closer, becoming friends, even, will only result in heartbreak.
So I do the logical thing.
"Sure, Haymitch," I reply.
Training with Haymitch isn't as bad as I thought it would be. We try out as much stations as possible, and when either of us run into trouble at a certain weapon or skill, the other immediately rushes to help.
We reach the archery station, where we spend roughly an hour attempting to yield a bow. It takes me about ten short minutes to come to the conclusion that archery is most definitely not for me.
"Shit," I mutter, as I shoot, watching as my arrow misses the bulls-eye by a long shot.
Haymitch, noticing my struggles, comes over to me. "You're putting too much pressure on the bow."
I'm about to protest that it's not his place to tell me what I'm doing wrong, as, like me, he's only just learning how to handle a bow and arrow. But I quickly realize that I'm in no position to refuse his help, because he's hit the bulls-eye four times in a row already.
Damn.
"Here," he says, stepping a little closer to me.
My heartbeat quickens rapidly as he places his hand on the handle of the arrow, right on top of mine. His olive skin tone contrasts greatly with my pale one.
His other hand comes to rest on my waist, sending jitterbugs running through my body.
"Now stand, feet apart," he tells me softly, and I obey his orders.
"And release," he whispers in my ear.
And I do, letting the arrow go flying into the air. I watch as the tip of the arrow buries itself slap-bang in the middle of the bullseye.
I turn my head to thank Haymitch, but I stop myself, noticing how close we are. How our lips are practically touching. All I have to do is reach out and...
Suddenly, the whistle is blown, signalling lunch time.
I sigh to myself, laying my bow on the shelf. I whip around to see Haymitch with a hint of a blush on his cheeks. Haymitch Abernathy is blushing! Actually blushing! Because of...me?
Biting my lip and desperately trying to avoid his eyes, I follow the long line of tributes heading to the dining hall.
I quickly dump a large portion of pasta onto my plate and take a place at a lone table in the corner, far away from the other tributes. I pick at my pasta with a fork, which I don't really feel like eating, for some reason.
Maybe it's because I've spent the entire morning attempting to yield weapons. That's bound to put a downer on a girl's appetite.
I startle a little as Haymitch sits down beside me, his tray clattering to the table loudly.
"Sorry," he apologizes quickly. His nostrils are fuming and his jaw is tightened.
"What's wrong?" I wonder aloud.
"They're what's wrong," he snarls, turning round in his seat and pointing towards a gang of Careers. They're over by the buffet table, pushing and shoving other tributes out of the way.
"What did they do to you?" I ask concernedly.
"Made some comments about my 'slutty' girlfriend," he growled.
My cheeks turn pink. "M-Me?"
"Yes, you," he sighs.
I chew the inside of my cheek - an old habit of mine - and twirl a forkful of pasta around and around. "I'm guessing they...saw what happened, back there?" I look up to check his reaction.
He blinks, swallowing. "Yeah, I guess they did."
"It doesn't matter, though, does it?" I say hoarsely. "I mean it's not like..." I trail off awkwardly.
"Yeah, you're right." Haymitch forces a tight smile. "It doesn't matter."
A/N: Yay! Leave a review telling me your thoughts on this chapter! :)