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I do not own the Hunger Games nor its characters.
Chapter Forty-Seven
As we wait for the train doors to open Peeta takes Katniss' hand but there's a look of sadness on his face. It's the kind of sadness that only comes with a feeling of loss; lost hope and lost love. He has a longing look in his eyes that I've so often seen in my own reflection, all he wants is for her to reciprocate his feelings but she seems incapable right now.
The doors open and the cheers and applause are deafening as they both step on to the platform. Effie and I follow but it's clear who the stars of the show are and everyone wants a piece of them. Reporters from every angle are shouting at them to move so that they can get a photograph and pushing themselves as close to their latest victors as possible. The peacekeepers are just about coping with all the extra bodies.
Clara and Prim take to the stage just as Peeta's family do and they all embrace, the looks of relief on their faces are hard to miss. However, Peeta's mother seems nonplussed by the whole thing which makes me feel quite angry. You'd think a mother who very nearly lost her son would be overjoyed to see him again but it's impossible to tell from her expressionless face.
As I watch Prim jump in to Katniss' arms a new sensation comes over me, it's not quite pride but it isn't happiness, either. Twenty-two children still had to die in order for this reunion to happen. I suppose I'm just glad that I won't be too hated for another year; I brought two tributes home, surely there's something redeeming about that? Maybe parents won't pull their children away from me as I walk down the street, maybe they won't fear me in the same way they once did.
"Your cousins can hardly wait to see you!" Says Clara with a smile and turns to a small family standing at the bottom of the podium. They're all Seam kids and the way the eldest son is looking at Katniss I'm not entirely convinced he's her cousin. I've seen them at The Hob together and I seem to remember Peeta mentioning Katniss having a boyfriend, is this who he was talking about? Either way, he's wearing another look that I recognise: jealousy. And what kind of cousin would be jealous of a new boyfriend?
"How do you feel about your success this year, Haymitch?" A reporter shouts at me and suddenly all eyes are on me, awaiting my reply. I give them as decent a smile as I can manage as I contemplate what to say. There's no such thing as success in the Hunger Games but I doubt that's a suitable answer when the Capitol already hates us so much.
"Obviously I'm over the moon, more for these two than for myself," I say, trying to take the focus off me, "I think we all shared their feelings of distraught and despair when we believed that they couldn't be together. And now that they're both back home, it's a relief to all of us." If Snow sees this, hopefully, it will go some way to convincing him that Katniss' trick with the berries was out of desperation and that everyone thinks that. No one would possibly think she was being rebellious.
I look towards Katniss and Peeta who are both smiling and holding hands but they shift uncomfortably. The tension from the train is still present.
"We can't thank Haymitch enough," says Peeta and kisses Katniss' cheek, which makes the whole crowd swoon. Katniss' supposed cousin, on the other hand, simply scowls.
"And what do you think of your daughter's new boyfriend, Mrs. Everdeen?" Says the reporter.
Clara looks a bit taken aback by the question but nevertheless speaks in to the microphone that is thrust in to her face. "Well, I think that Peeta is the very model of what a young man should be but Katniss isn't old enough to have any boyfriend at all," she replies before giving Peeta a comically stern look. She must know how Katniss feels, I'm sure that any mother could read their child, even when they're acting in front of the entire nation. The reporters may think it's funny but I think she's probably just protecting her daughter.
The press conference is soon over and we're free to go, although Katniss and Peeta's introduction to their new homes are recorded for the viewing pleasure of Panem to show them how we reward child killers in our fair society. I hang around in the background to make sure that they're reacting appropriately before heading home. Ever since Vieve left I've felt uncomfortable living in this big house by myself, it's probably bugged and doesn't really feel like mine, even though I've lived here for twenty-four years but it has that Capitol style stamped all over it. Even so, I don't think I've ever been more grateful to get inside it than I am right now.
Three days later and I'm thrown in to a whirlwind of banquets and celebrations. The food and music are plentiful and Katniss and Peeta are just about managing to keep up the adoring couple act. They exchange light kisses and rarely leave each other's side. When Parcel Day arrives they even stand together smiling and handing out gifts to the queue of people at the train station. It's difficult to watch. I know they're battling with the demons of the arena as well as the mixed feelings that they have for each other but if they slip up just once it could be at the detriment of everyone's survival.
On the final day of celebrations we have a big festival in the square that the whole district attends but I leave in the early evening because not only am I desperate to get away from the cameras but I'm also desperate for my bed. I stumble in to find a letter on my doormat from Effie informing me that she's sending someone over in the next few weeks to fix my phone. Apparently, it's not fitting for the latest winning mentor to be unreachable but I beg to differ. I've done my bit for the year now just leave me be, thank you.
Just as I'm scrunching up the letter and opening another bottle of liquor there's a knock on the door. I groan as I go to open it, hoping it's not some silly reporter asking for another quote about the star-crossed lovers. They seem to be lurking around, questioning anyone who they happen across in the street. Instead, I find Clara Everdeen.
"Hello," she says, timidly. "Can I come in?"
"Of course," I say, leading her through to the lounge. It's only then that I realise that we haven't spoken in about two decades, which seems strange after I've helped her daughter survive an ugly death match. I suppose that she was just too tied up with Maysilee for me to ever consider a friendship, I don't like being reminded of my fallen ally. "Is everything okay?"
She lets out a laugh but there's no joy to it, "I'm not sure that anything will ever be okay, again, but I just wanted to say how thankful I am. Although that doesn't really cover what you've done for me…what you've done for our family."
"Well, it wasn't all me. You must know how resourceful Katniss is."
She nods, "Yes but she needed help and that's what you gave her. You'll always be welcome in our home, Haymitch. You're family, now."
"I don't know about that," I say, gulping the liquor.
"You are," says Clara, sternly. "We never really spoke about Mayilee and I never thought for one moment that you'd have to mentor one of my girls but you have and those connections are never going to disappear." I give a noncommittal groan, I've not given much thought to what she's saying and it's making me feel slightly awkward. "You'll always be welcome in our new home."
She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me on the cheek before saying thank you, again, and leaving. I watch her out the window as Katniss and Prim approach the house, their arms interlocked as if they were knitted together. Clara waits for them with her arms open and Prim runs straight at her whilst Katniss slowly walks towards her before allowing her mother to wrap her arms around her. They stand like that for a good while before heading in to the house and I can't help but feel glad that Katniss has people to share the burden of tonight's nightmares.
Are these my family? I never thought of Katniss being family, especially as she drives me so crazy most of the time. I suppose we'll always have shared horrors and there'll be more to come that only she, Peeta and I can understand. And I do care for them both in my own way. I wouldn't ever want any harm to come to them, they've got good hearts, despite Katniss' thought processes being misguided at times.
I can't think about this right now, though, I need a drink.
I spend the next month enjoying the advantages and disadvantages of white liquor. The advantages are that I can block out days on end whilst the disadvantages are vomit and horrible migraines. When Ripper runs low on supplies I'm forced to relive the memories of the past twenty-four years, some real and some not. Tributes turn in to mutts and people I thought of as friends turn on me in an instant with an evil glare in their eyes.
Peeta brings me plenty of delights from the bakery whilst Katniss brings me game, which is a nice addition to my kitchen. I know they feel like they have a duty to look after me but most of the time I'd prefer to be alone; it's nothing more than I deserve.
One day there's a knock on the door and I can't be bothered to move from the sofa to answer it. I have a bottle of liquor in one hand and my knife in the other, I'm in no mood for company but the knocking keeps coming.
"Haymitch!" A voice bellows, "It's Drake! Let me in!" Of all the people I want to see right now, Drake is very far down the list. Why on earth would he want to visit me? I've made a conscious decision to avoid him as much as possible for the past four years. "I'll bash the door down!" He continues and I begrudgingly let him in.
"Sorry for the smell," I slur, "I wasn't expecting company."
"I can see that," he says with a smirk before helping himself to a glass of white liquor. I take in his face for the first time in a long time and it's only then that I notice how much he has changed since he was a young man. He's got the wrinkles that a man of his age usually has but there's a hardness there, too, that only comes with great loss. The loss of a younger sister. The loss of a son. There's been too much loss for those around me and most of it's my fault.
"So what do you want? Apart from my drink?" I say, snatching the bottle away from him.
"I just wanted to see how you are, I thought you might be a bit happier now that you've managed to bring your tributes home."
"If only," I reply and finish off the contents of the bottle. "Look, I'm sure you've got good intentions but I don't want to see anyone right now."
"No change there, then," he says with a sigh. "I wish you'd let us in to your life, Haymitch. You know more than anyone how fickle life is and facing it alone doesn't help you."
His words stay in my mind as he leaves and I can't seem to shake them all night. I got his sister killed and I couldn't do anything to bring his only son home alive and yet he still tries to look out for me. I rarely see him and yet I still know in the back of my mind that he'd be there for me if I ever called upon him. But whenever I think of rebuilding those bridges that I burnt all I can see is Freya and the devastation that would be on her parents' faces if she ever got reaped. The same devastation that was on Katniss' face when she heard Prim's name being called two months ago.
I should be revelling in my success right now but all I see is loss and pain. If people aren't getting killed they're getting their hearts broken and as much as I want to blame Snow I feel responsible for most of it.
As I break the seal on another bottle all I can think is that I welcome the blocked out days and nights. The less I remember, the better.