Hello and thank you for reading my story! All the feedback I've had so far has been great and I really do appreciate it!
I do not own the Hunger Games nor its characters.
Chapter Nineteen
I stumble on to the stage and take my place at my assigned seat. Marsella is shooting me one of her infamous looks of agitation but I deal with it by having another swig from the bottle I'm holding. I can think of a million other places I would rather be right now.
Titam died two months ago and I've been in various states of consciousness ever since. Getting my hands on some white liquor has been a lot easier, whether people are less scared of the repercussions or they can see that I genuinely need it, I don't know but there's no longer the difficulty there once was.
Snow didn't pay for a lavish funeral like he did for my family but I'm glad, it meant I could give Titam the send off he deserved. There was only me and a few of Titam's old school mates in attendance but it was enough, we said goodbye and I'm in the process of organising some sort of memorial for him if it's allowed. A few reporters from the Capitol wanted an interview but I only gave them a few quotes to keep them happy, after all, Titam wasn't exactly one of the most famous or adored victors. I doubt most of the Capitol even knew who he was.
"Happy Hunger Games!" Marsella finally says in to the microphone and I swear that nearly every child in the square tenses their bodies a little bit more. After the lecture on the Dark Days and the naming of our victors she plunges her hand in to the girls' Reaping bowl and tortures them while she hovers her hand over the strips.
She takes out a piece of paper and says, "Norver Birch!"
There are no cries but as the sixteen year old girl walks on to the stage her eyes lock on mine and I can see tears forming in them. She knows. She's going to die and there's nothing either of us can do.
"And now for the boys!" Says a grinning Marsella, placing her hand in to the bowl. "Horley Rorsh!"
This time there is a loud, painful cry that can only be the sound of a mother losing her son. A slight, thirteen year old boy approaches the stage and it's clear he can't contain the tears that are building up. He keeps taking deep breaths as if to stop himself hyperventilating.
The tributes are escorted in to the Justice Building and everyone in the square begins to head back home. I get out of my seat and finish the rest of my bottle.
"You're a mess, Haymitch Abernathy!" Marsella shouts at me.
"Tell me something I don't know, sweetheart." She scowls at me, which was the desired response. I have so few pleasures left in life that if I get the chance to wind Marsella up I'm definitely going to take it.
"Come on! There's a train we need to be on!" She grabs my arm and begins to drag me towards the car that's waiting to take us to the station. We could walk it in fifteen minutes but I doubt Marsella has ever had to walk further than to her front door, these Capitol people are so lazy!
The car ride is bumpy and my head is feeling woozy, it also isn't helping that Marsella is babbling on about etiquette and how I should behave at official events. It's enough to make you sick, which I am as soon as we get on to the platform. All over Marsella.
"Arghh! You are so vile!" She shouts, "Why don't you just go sleep it off in your room?!"
"Excellent idea!" I say and board the train, heading straight for my Capitol approved bedroom carriage.
Once again, I must have drunk more than I thought because when I wake up I'm in my room in the Training Centre. I have no recollection of how I got here at all.
I slowly swing my legs out of bed and ask one of the avoxes to fetch me some painkillers for my headache and as much food as they can; I'm starving.
No one seems to be around so I eat alone, devouring everything that is placed before me in seconds. Ever since Titam died I haven't been keeping on top of everyday things such as buying food, he was usually the one who made sure I went in to Town to buy groceries but now I just couldn't care less.
There's a knock on the door and one of the avoxes opens it to reveal a subdued Chaff.
"Hey, Haymitch," he says, sitting down at the table and helping himself to an apple. "Your tributes are in the Remake Centre, just in case you were wondering."
"Thanks."
"I know it's hard, Haymitch, no one deserves to be put through what you have, unless it's Snow, but don't take it out on those kids. You need to at least try."
I grunt in response. "At least your kids have a chance, you've got enough mentors to go around, all mine have is me and that's not saying much."
"Which is why you're going to have a shower right now and come with me to the Sponsorship Room."
I attempt to argue but he simply grabs me and shoves me towards my bathroom. He's a lot taller and bigger than me so I have no chance but to do as he says and within twenty minutes I'm looking like a clean and normal nineteen year old man. Well, by my standards, anyway.
When we get to the Sponsorship Room Chaff instantly dives in to schmoozing with the Capitol elite whereas I need a few moments to collect my thoughts. That's when I realise that I have nothing to say about my tributes, I have no idea what their skills or qualities are. I approach a woman in her fifties and attempt to make her part with her money but when she asks why these kids are different from anyone else that comes from 12 all I can say is that they're clever. Unsurprisingly, she isn't convinced.
I leave the room feeling defeated and realise it's time to be heading towards the Victors Box for the Opening Ceremony. Chaff arrives about twenty minutes later and offers me a glass of wine.
"You're gonna need it," he says. He couldn't be more right.
When Norver and Horley enter on their chariot they look both unhappy and embarrassed as they wave at the audience in their coal miner outfits.
"I've been awful to them," I say under my breath.
"Yeah, but you've got time," says Chaff, filling up my glass, again.
The next morning I make sure that I'm awake for breakfast so that I can impart whatever misguided wisdom I have.
"Okay guys, make sure you spend time on the survival stations. Your best hope is to just hide out for as long as possible."
"How do you know that?! You haven't even asked if we've got experience with a weapon!" Norver shouts at me.
"Because even if you do have experience I can assure you that the Careers will be ten times better! But they're usually so stupid that they ignore learning about survival skills."
"Maybe we should listen to him, Norver," a timid Horley says.
"Why? He's too drunk to know what he's talking about!"
"Fine! You go get yourselves killed!" I bellow and storm off back to my bedroom, ordering a bottle of white liquor when I get there. If they don't want my help then I'm happy to just spend the rest of my time in this room drinking myself in to oblivion. Now that's a plan with some definite results.
Over the next three days both Mags and Chaff try to get me out of the apartment but I refuse. I have no desire to explore the Capitol and I certainly don't want to help innocent children to die, they'll probably do better without me.
Before I know it Marsella is throwing cold water over me because it's the first day of the Games, apparently it's the only way to wake me up.
"Those kids need you!" She screams, "Get dressed and go to the Control Room!"
I don't want to get up but if it stops Marsella from talking then I'll happily oblige. I shower and pull on some clean clothes before heading downstairs. I knew this would be hard without Titam but this is worse than I could have ever imagined. I just feel so lost.
I take my place at my station and it both saddens and relieves me to see that Chaff is in the one next to me. Titam's station has been removed and I wonder if anyone from 12 will ever sit there, again.
"Hey, Haymitch. How you doing?" Asks Seeder, a woman in her late thirties who is a victor from 11 along with Chaff.
"Not great," I say.
"I miss him, too. It feels like there's something missing in the room."
I nod in agreement, that's exactly how it feels. I forget that most of the people here knew Titam a lot longer than I did but I don't like the idea that any of them were closer to him than I was. I never said it when he was alive but he was the closest thing to a father I had. I wish I had told him that.
I look at the Panem Screen to see that this year's arena is a vast dessert with small rock pools dotted around it. There are very few hiding places and I doubt any of the tributes are prepared for this, especially mine.
"Thirty minutes until launch," the robotic voice says across the room.
I click on the icon on the Tribute Screen and, although I expected it, I'm a little disappointed to find that there's no money there. I spend the next thirty minutes just staring at the screen, willing the money to appear in our account but it doesn't.
Before I know it the screen bursts in to live and Norver and Horley are rising in to the arena. Because I'm the mentor for both of them I have two Tribute Screens this year and both of them show the faces of two very scared teenagers.
The sixty second countdown begins and all of the tributes are scanning the cornucopia to see what's there. They can't risk it, they need to run. I hope they know that, I hope someone told them that.
The claxon sounds and the bloodbath begins. My tributes go down within five minutes.