Abernathy Aftermath
The room goes quiet. The Fiftieth Hunger Games have ended. The nightmare is over for Haymitch Abernathy. Or is it? How can he live with himself? The Games conclude with bountiful fanfare as Haymitch is lifted out of the arena via hovercraft. Then, the screen goes black.
"We're rich!" my father hollers around the house, "We're rich!"
My mother simply does not know what to do. She sits in a proper manner, her legs crossed at the ankle, eyes trained on the black screen.
"What's that dear?" she asks my father.
"The City Circle! I have to go. I have won a tremendous amount of money. We are rich, rich, rich!" he jumps about the room.
Alfie and I cannot react. I have no understand of what has happened. We share a glance of confusion. All I know is that Haymitch won. My father runs out of the house, whooping loudly. All hell broke that day loose.
My mother came back to reality. During my father's absence, she cleaned and reminded us of our manners. Upon his arrival, she stopped cleaning and ran to the window. He had returned with eight large vans, each filled with his winnings. Winnings on a tribute that I picked. A tribute whose odds of winning were slim to nothing.
The realization of our situation hits me. We-my father and I-bet on four children from our own nation to kill forty-four other children. In reality, we hoped for the death of innocent lives. The Hunger Games, our national pastime, is a game that kills innocent children on live television. And to the monsters that watch and worse-those that bet on who will survive, how can you live with yourself? How can I live with myself?
Of course, I did not know then what I know now. I was a naïve girl of seven who could not tell right from wrong. Oh, the humanity. But, I did not know then what I know now.
We concluded the Fiftieth Hunger Games by watching Haymitch's interview the following night. Dressed handsomely, he relayed the horrors of watching Maysilee die and the brutality demonstrated in the fight that led to him winning. Caesar Flickerman showed the clips of Haymitch's mother talking about how much she loved her son, Haymitch's brother speaking of pride for his sibling, and Haymitch's girlfriend discussing her anxiety for his safe, timely return.
"Where does he go now?" I ask.
"Home, dear. He goes home," responds my mother.
"He will be back," says my father with a tone of neither resentment nor hate, "Victors' must travel back to the Capitol again for the Victory Tour."
Haymitch Abernathy returns to District 12. Our lives return to relative normality. The Games, a frequent topic around the Capitol, become the subject of discussion for months. With our game winnings, my father purchases a large house in the City Circle. He becomes one of the elite-a bigwig as citizens call him, which proves ironic because he takes up wearing one. My mother picks out new schools for Alfie and me. Our last name appends an epithet-the distinguished Trinkets.
My life changes considerably. What was once a friendly person of middle status evolves into a privileged princess. I became selective of my associates in lower school. I minded my manners to a tee. People I grew up with became those with whom I would not associate. By the time I reached upper school, I was Effie Trinket-the epitome of the perfect Capitol citizen.
When Haymitch Abernathy returned to the Capitol for the Victory Tour, he made a spectacle of himself. He seemed distant-more so than usual, and often showed up drunk. Even his once handsome face had diminished. One interview in particular stood out.
"So, Haymitch," a Capitol reporter shoved a microphone into his face, "What are your thoughts on being back in the Capitol?"
Haymitch stood in silence for the better part of five minutes.
"Is it a bad time? Can you spare a few words?" the reporter repeats the question.
"Why not? The Capitol already took everything else from me," Haymitch suddenly snaps.
His escort runs to his side and comments, "Don't mind him. He's drunk as a skunk."
"No, I'm not," Haymitch replies from behind his escort, "I'm sick of –…"
The interview ends. It played once on national television and then never again. Haymitch Abernathy disappeared.
My obsession with the Hunger Games grew after we moved. My rationale was that the Games had positive effects on all who participated. Capitol citizens had a sport to honor, tributes to bet on, and money to make. Districts had the opportunity to shine with each victor they collected. Like trading cards. Victors, of course, won all the honor and glory that went along with living. And the dead tributes? Well, they probably would have starved anyway.
The years went by slowly and eventfully. Nine other tributes had claimed the title of victor. Countless others had died in what had been increasingly boring Hunger Games. Well, boring for my standards anyway. I had better things to do then watch tributes maul each other to death with hunks of wood. My mother and my father became Mother and Father. I rarely spoke to Alfie.
Along with reaching sixteen, I became somewhat of a queen in upper school. Often, I find myself reminiscing about my youth. Looking back, I wish I had made better decisions.