Thank you for reading and another massive thank you to everyone who has reviewed this so far, they have all been very kind and encouraging.

I do not own The Hunger Games nor its characters.

Chapter Fourteen

I have a front row seat at Tilly's funeral, of course. It's a lavish affair paid for and organised by President Snow himself and is very similar to that of my mother's and Layle's, whom I buried yesterday. No expense has been spared and it makes me feel as sick as I did in the Games.

Almost all of 12 is sat in the square with the black coffin on display in front of us upon a small stage. A Capitol official is reciting supposedly comforting words before Drake takes to the stage to deliver his eulogy. However, I know that every single set of eyes are transfixed on me and my reaction, which, of course, is being broadcast to the whole of Panem. The official line is that they all died because of some electrical fault in my house as it has never been used but the rumours have been rife in 12 and we all know that these killings were a warning direct from Snow. Future tributes and victors will know what is acceptable and unacceptable in the Hunger Games if they want to have a family to return to.

Drake manages to remain calm during his speech, in which he talks about how kind Tilly was and how much he and his family will miss her. He leaves the stage and is replaced by Tilly's father, who echoes his thoughts. Snow had wanted me to give a speech but I refused, I spoke at my family's funeral yesterday and that was hard enough, saying goodbye to Tilly in front of the nation would be pure torture. Anyway, he has nothing to use against me, now.

"Goodbye, my sweet girl," Tilly's father says to the coffin before giving it the three finger salute and leaving the stage.

Drake and three of his cousins then lift the coffin and begin to walk towards the hearse that has been sent in from the Capitol and will drive to the cemetery at the edge of 12. We all stand and watch and they slowly make their way towards the miserable vehicle.

"Death to the Capitol!" A voice bellows from behind and everyone seems to gasp as one as they look for its source. "Death to the scum!" It shouts again and within seconds two peacekeepers have run over to a dark haired man in his late twenties and pushed him to the ground.

People are running away, too scared to be this close to phrases of rebellion. He's still screaming his hate towards the Capitol as he's dragged towards the stage. I look to my right to find that the pallbearers are now placing the coffin in the car. Drake can no longer hide his anger and I don't know what to do. Should I go with him? He hasn't spoken to me for days but he needs to be comforted, how dare someone tarnish Tilly's funeral like this!

I look back towards the stage, along with the few that have decided to stay in the square, to see the man's hands now tied to a post and one of the peacekeepers standing behind him with what looks like a many stranded whip. Is this really happening?! My mother used to talk of whippings but they're a rarity in 12 now, no one cares enough about what we do in the poor coal district.

I look around but the hearse has driven off, taking Tilly with it.

"They must be stopped!" The man yells and just as I turn my head towards him I can see the whip coming down hard on his bare back. This continues for another fifteen minutes or so until he falls unconscious and I can't look away. Did I incite this? I want to overthrow the Capitol more than anyone but I don't want my girlfriend's funeral being used as a platform for it. Part of me wants to help this man and part of me wants to strangle him.

The peacekeeper unties him and lets his body fall to the floor before he walks away, telling the others that they'll deal with him tomorrow. I can only imagine what that means.

A group of people are now standing over him, trying to drag him off the stage and I can see that one of them is Clara. She's with what looks like her parents and she's holding a pot of herbs or something and suddenly I remember Maysilee telling me in the arena that Clara's family run the apothecary.

Maysilee. Why must she be in my thoughts today of all days? I let out a pained groan and leave the square, heading home to grab a drink before I go to the wake.

President Snow has made all three funerals a state affair due to my recent victory so Tilly's wake takes place in the Justice Building. Her family wanted a small ceremony but Snow wouldn't allow it, he pretended that he wanted to honour such a lovely young woman but we all knew the real reason. He wants to make an example of me the same way I made one of the Capitol.

I've only had two drinks but I haven't eaten for days so when I arrive I'm a little tipsy to say the least. I'm starting to understand my father more and more each day, there's a sense of delusion that comes with being drunk that I'm beginning to like. It blocks out what's really happening and that's just what I need.

Not everyone has been invited to the wake, only friends, family and officials from 12 and the Capitol, although they had nothing to do with Tilly. They all eat, drink and make small talk. No one wants to be here.

I spot Drake and his parents and in my partially drunken state decide that it would be a good idea to talk to them. We haven't spoken since Tilly died, no, was killed, and it's made me feel incredibly guilty.

"This is horrible," is my opening line. I don't know what else to say.

"Yes," says Tilly's father. "I see you're handling it all appropriately." He nods towards the drink in my hand and my chest suddenly feels tight.

"I'm so sorry, I've tried to talk to you all but no one answers the door to me." No one speaks, they just avoid making eye contact with me. "I didn't kill her. I loved her."

"We understand, Haymitch," says Drake, "but I don't think you should be here. We know it wasn't your fault but…I can't look at you without being reminded of Tilly's death."

"I lost her, too! And my mother and Layle! Do you have any idea how that feels?!" Tears are now streaming down my face and the whole room is locked on to me.

Before anyone can reply Titam has appeared and grabbed my arm. "Not now," he hisses and drags me out of the building. Everyone is staring and whispering but I don't care, like I said, I have nothing to lose now.

"Get off me!" I shout and push him away. My house isn't far so it doesn't take me long to stumble towards it and in to my kitchen. I pour myself a glass of white liquor and quickly knock it back, followed by another. The third drink is followed by complete blackness.

I wake up in my large bed with a throbbing headache. I'm not sure how I got here and I don't particularly care. I lift up my pillow and search for my knife but it isn't there, ever since my family was killed I've taken to sleeping with one. The nightmares about the Games and my family's murders have only increased and every time I hear a footstep or the creaking of the pipes I think someone is trying to kill me. Life as a victor isn't all it's cracked up to be, I'm finding that out now.

"I've taken it away," a voice says next to me. I look around to see Titam slumped in a chair, looking fairly dishevelled.

"What are you doing here?" My voice is croaky and crabby, speaking just takes too much effort and my head is overcome with pain. All I can think is that another drink would sort it out.

"I'm trying to save you from yourself! You're a mess, Haymitch!"

"Is it any wonder?! What have I got to live for now?!"

He doesn't answer for a moment. "For the future, for the hope that things will get better. You need to live for those tributes that will be reaped and need a mentor. You need to live because I can't do this by myself anymore!"

"That's a very selfish attitude to take."

He nods, the anger still hanging around on his face and tears threatening to form. I've seen too many tears, recently.

"I'm sorry. But I've worked so hard for forty years to get a tribute home and when I finally do he does everything he can to screw it up! Well, I won't let you, Haymitch!"

"Fine! Do what you like, I'm going back to sleep."

I turn over and cover myself with the duvet. I could get up and get dressed but what's the point? Blacking things out is so much easier and much more comforting. Not being in the present gives me some form of contentedness these days and being content is a hard thing to find.