AN; Hey guys, this is my first ever attempt at a Hunger Games fan fiction. It is slightly AU so I am aware of any 'inaccuracies' imagine Woody Harrelson as Haymitch, he did such a darn good job I couldn't resist! I also apologise for anything my characters say that sounds slightly odd. I am British so I'm not completely aware of American speech patterns etc. Please enjoy and read and review. I'm more vulnerable here than any of my Harry Potter fan fictions.
DISCLAIMER; All Hunger Games related goodness belongs to the amazing Suzanne Collins. OCs and the basic plot belong to yours truly.
CHAPTER ONE; RIPPER'S NUMBER ONE CUSTOMER
Opening their eyes, a young woman sighed in disappointment as she scanned the only room of her small shack. Her bed was low to the ground, a thin scratchy mattress lay atop with an even thinner blanket to keep her warm. Aged photographs decorated the fireplace that had not been lit for months. A small storage cabinet stood in the corner of the shack, containing her food and other worldly possessions. After stretching and yawning, she scratched her curly black hair and buried her head in her hands. She smiled softly as a black and white cat wound its way around her legs, purring contently.
"Hey there Orchid," she said quietly, petting the cat's head.
Flossie Goldenwood was an 18 year old girl who lost her father and brother in a mining accident several years ago. Her mother died a month ago from pneumonia, leaving Flossie to fend for herself. Unfortunately Flossie was barely adept at looking after herself, although she held a relatively steady job working for Ripper at The Hob and she had good trading links with the butcher and the bakers. Flossie was only just learning to feed herself and not others. Flossie regularly did go hunting in the woods surrounding District 12, none of the Peacekeepers seemed to mind as she supplied them with squirrels and rabbits. Whilst Flossie wasn't as good with a bow and arrow like the Everdeens but she was still a dab hand at throwing knives.
Flossie got up and rooted around in her half-empty storage cabinet.
"Let's see if we've got anything for you today," Flossie said to the small cat.
"Ah, here we go," Flossie said, ripping off some meat from a 2 day old bird carcass and tossing it to Orchid. Flossie crouched down and stroked the cat as it hungrily devoured the meat. Orchid looked up at Flossie, its bright yellow eyes looking at her expectantly.
"I'm afraid that's all I can give you Orchid, I need the rest for myself," Flossie said sadly. Her stomach rumbled and Flossie sighed.
Flossie went back to the storage cabinet and pulled off some more meat for herself. She picked up a half empty bottle of water and took a few sips for herself. Looking down at the half-starved kitten, Flossie poured some water into the cap of the bottle and allowed Orchid to drink from it.
"That's it," Flossie said with mock sincerity and crossed her arms. Orchid mewled pathetically and Flossie tilted her head sympathetically.
"I've got to go Orchid, I've got to go work," Flossie said, throwing on a pair of jeans and a relatively clean shirt. She tied her curly black hair into a messy bun and tied her sturdy pair of boots.
As Flossie left her shack, she turned back to look at Orchid before waving goodbye.
The hot summer sun shone down on The Seam, Flossie watched as apathetic looking miners prepared to work, school children walked uniformly to their school. Flossie dropped out of school after her mother died, knowing that she needed to work rather than learn. Flossie walked briskly to the Hob avoiding the moans and cries of the homeless as she walked past. Flossie shivered, knowing very well that she could be joining the homeless soon.
"All right Floss?" Greasy Sae said as Flossie walked past. The Hob was bustling with employers, employees and citizens of District 12. Several Peacekeepers were sat on stools at Greasy Sae's enjoying a bowl of soup each before going back on patrol.
"Hiya Sae, how's business?" Flossie shouted as the made it to Ripper's stall where she worked.
"Morning Flossie, grab us that crate will you?" Ripper said, the one-armed woman who sold alcohol to the citizens of District 12. Flossie complied and lifted a heavy crate from the floor to the counter.
"How are you Ripper?" Flossie asked after lifting several more crates.
"Good, good. You're looking a little thin Floss. Why don't you go back over to Greasy Sae and see if she can get you anything. My treat," Ripper said with a pat to Flossie's fragile back.
"Oh Ripper, I couldn't. No way," Flossie said shaking her head.
"Come on Floss, you know what's happening in two weeks. I just want you to be well fed and safe. Just in case you know?" Ripper said with a shrug.
A chill ran down Flossie's spine. In two weeks was the reaping for the 66th Hunger Games. It was the last year Flossie had a chance of being entered, being 18 years old. But unlike Effie Trinket's famous saying 'May the odds be ever in your favour' they were not in Flossie's. Flossie's name was in the bowl 30 times, she had applied for tessera at least 3 times every year, they were mainly used to help Ripper and her late mother. Flossie hadn't taken out tessera since her mother died, feeling that she could cope without it. Her bony figure and gaunt face was starting to tell her otherwise.
"I, please Ripper. I'm fine," Flossie said with a sad smile.
"Nope, my mind couldn't handle it. After all your family have done for me, please. Go," Ripper said with an air of desperation. Flossie, not wanting to aggravate her employer nodded and walked back over to Greasy Sae.
"Oh hiya love. Wanting anything to eat?" Greasy Sae said with a smile as Flossie reluctantly sat on an empty stool.
"Sure, Ripper sent me," Flossie replied giving an aggrieved look back at her employer.
"Loosen your pride girl, she's just looking out for you. You know she wouldn't if she didn't want to," Greasy Sae said seriously, putting a hand on top of Flossie's.
"I know, I just don't want her to be put out you know? I can pay for it," Flossie said, nodding her head and sighing.
"Come on, that's bull and you know it," Greasy Sae said with exasperation. Flossie pursed her lips and then shrugged her shoulders.
"Yeah I guess so," Flossie replied.
"Good, now eat," Greasy Sae said, pushing a bowl of broth in front of Flossie. Flossie inhaled the smell of the broth and felt her mouth start to water in response. It was no secret that Greasy Sae used prairie dog in her broth but the famished state of the residents of District 12 meant that they were more grateful that they had food in their bellies than what was contained in the actual broth.
Flossie almost drank down the broth, finishing it within minutes. Greasy Sae stood watching, amused at how Flossie ate. It was not unusual for people of District 12 to eat in such a way.
"Enjoy that?" Greasy Sae asked as Flossie slammed down the bowl.
"Yes ma'am, that was delicious," Flossie said with a sincere grin.
"Want any more? It's on me?" Greasy Sae said, tempting another bowl of the broth in front of Flossie's hungry eyes.
"No, no way. I must go back to Ripper now. Thank you for your kindness," Flossie said suddenly, getting up and nodding at Greasy Sae in appreciation.
"That girl will be the death of me," Greasy Sae muttered to herself as she watched Flossie march back over to Ripper.
"You're going to hate me for this," Ripper said ruefully. Flossie raised an eyebrow.
"What is it Ripper?" Flossie asked, trying to coax the information out of her.
"I need you to deliver these crates to someone," Ripper replied, pointing to 3 crates piled up on the counter.
Flossie exhaled, she had a good idea who she was going to deliver to.
"And who is that?" Flossie asked, crossing her arms.
"Haymitch Abernathy," Ripper said with a sad smile.
Flossie pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. Haymitch Abernathy was the only living victor of District 12 after winning the 50th Hunger Games almost 16 years ago. He was a hateful man, sour, acerbic and a raging alcoholic. However, he was one of Ripper's main customers, he ordered several crates a week and was perhaps one of Flossie's least favourite people in District 12.
Haymitch was a good friend of Flossie's late father, much to her displeasure. They would often be seen propping up Ripper's bar stools together. Flossie's father was no alcoholic, but the strain of the mines often saw him take comfort in a large bottle of white liquor. They suited each other, oddly. Haymitch was pessimistic and sarcastic whilst Flossie's father was light-hearted and witty. After Flossie's father died, Haymitch attended the funeral but offered no condolences. Instead he drank himself to oblivion and passed out.
"Okay, I'll go," Flossie replied. Flossie was not angry at Ripper, she just disliked Haymitch. Whenever she delivered to him he would never answer the door and if they ever saw each other around (which in itself was a very rare occurrence) he would always try to come on to her. He had gotten worse of late, it was perhaps down to the imminent Reaping Ceremony.
"It's got to be done dear, he's the only reason I'm still in business," said Ripper with a shrug.
"I know, it's fine. I guess that's one thing going for him," Flossie replied with an unconvincing smile.
"Well, off with you then. I'll see you back here soon okay?" Ripper said as she served a customer.
Flossie picked up the crates, buckling slightly under the weight and set off to the Victor's Village where Haymitch lurked. He was not known for being a social creature, and spent most of his time drinking himself into oblivion.
"Lazy so and so, why couldn't he come here and get the crates himself?" Flossie said, muttering under her breath. The hot unforgiving sun shone down on Flossie, droplets of sweat began to form on her forehead.
Flossie busied herself by humming songs to herself her father taught her when she was younger, music was usually forbidden in District 12, for any of the songs could sprout anti-Capitol meanings that may give hint to another uprising. Flossie shivered at the thought. She knew all about The Dark Days and the destruction of District 13. She had been taught it in school, the more she learnt about the history of Panem the more she feared the Capitol and its brutality, her father had always spoken fondly of the bravery of those who rose up against the Capitol. But whenever her mother heard her father speak of such a think she shrieked at him in horror, in fear of being punished.
Before too long Flossie reached the golden gates of the Victor's Village. There were several mansions, all but one were deserted, seeing as though District 12 had only one surviving victor. The other had died years ago.
A smirk never failed to appear on Flossie's face as she approached Haymitch's mansion. It was in a state of constant ruin, a few of the windows were boarded up, weeds grew in the garden. It was one thing Flossie admired about the alcoholic, it seemed he refused to bend to the Capitol's will. He lived a reclusive lifestyle, much like every other person living in District 12.
As per usual, the door appeared to remain closed. Flossie muttered expletives and put the crates down on the front door step.
She turned her back to leave when she heard a groan. Narrowing her eyes she tried to locate the sound. Another cry of pain made Flossie realise the noise was coming from inside the house. 'He's probably just recovering from a bad hangover' the cynical part of her brain said to her. However, the much larger, caring side of her psyche told her she had to help him.
Grumbling in frustration at her inability to leave anyone behind, Flossie tried to open the door, which was surprisingly unlocked. Immediately Flossie was overcome with smell of alcohol, sweat, dirt and what Flossie thought was urine. It took all of her strength to stop herself from vomiting on the spot.
"Mr Abernathy sir?" Flossie shouted uneasily, as she kicked the door closed behind her. She heard a strangled moan in response. She hurriedly put down the crates on the closest table and started searching the house.
"Sir, are you okay?" Flossie said, as she looked quickly in each room. She was greeted by the sight of ripped wallpaper, holes in the walls presumably made during moments of rage and drunken stupor, a numerous amount of empty spirit bottles and smashed glass in almost every room.
Flossie couldn't find Haymitch on the ground floor and slowly crept up the stairs to see if she could find him. She noted that he didn't have a banister and a few of the steps were either broken or missing.
She stumbled heavily up the last step and straight into a closed door. Flossie hit the door with a loud thump and felt her nose break.
Cursing under her breath in pain and opening the door she heard a startled shout. She had found Haymitch.
AN; I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. The second is well under way. There will be later on an opportunity to incorporate yourself into the story. PYOT etc. More details will be released once I get there. Until then, please read, review and subscribe. May the odds be ever in your favour!