XI
…
Gale.
Gale Hawthorne.
Gale Hawthorne hadn't come back after his deliverance of news and my breakdown. My best guess was that he was staying clear of me… and I don't know why he would really do so. Maybe it was fear of me breaking even further, Gale was never one to take "emotional" distress or any kind of anguish for the matter well. Or if he had come around, I just hadn't seen him since he told me the news.
I hadn't seen that many people to be clear. There was a minimum selection of guest. Since I had returned, since I had heard the news it hadn't been a very sociable atmosphere.
Effie left not long after my mental collapse, a day later to be exact. She came and saw me. She was dressed in purple, her haired curled to the point, and an uneasy look in her eyes as if she wasn't sure if she should depart or not. She gave me a smile and kissed me on the forehead before turning out of the room, whispering quite words to Haymitch and Cato to take care of me. Then there was no doubt she was down to the train station to return to the Capitol.
Sae and her granddaughter had stopped by once, not long after Effie. I heard her come into the house, her granddaughter bouncing about and Sae scolding her to simmer down. Haymitch had let her in and made small talk about anything, but me and or the Games. I never saw her. She left a pot of rabbit and celery stew in the kitchen and that was the only remnant of her visit.
Madge came by, too. Even though she was really my only other friend beside Gale, her stopping by was still a surprise. She had come by the third time Haymitch had stomped into the room, announcing that I was to bathe. She knocked on the door, but no one ever answered. Haymitch was scared to leave me alone and Cato was… in town? The only reason I knew she had come because when I returned to my room, I saw her blond hair retreating from Victor's Village.
I saw Vick and Posy once through the window of my room one afternoon. They stood on the outskirts of the gate. They looked as if they were going to walk through the ivy covered iron and brick entrance as their eyes flickering between them and the house. But then, Rory came up and his eyes flickered between himself and the house as if he too was going to walk through before walking away.
And Darius had stopped by just the other day. He had, against Cato's best liking it seemed, come up to talk to me. He had come barging into the room his red curls disheveled. I was seated against the headboard and Haymitch sat in a chair across from me. He came and he apologized, he apologized and even shed a few tears. When there was nothing left to say he bowed his head and left.
I hadn't seen that many people since my return, just Cato and Haymitch and more Cato.
Cato. He was always there. Even when I didn't want anyone to be there, but needed someone to be there, he was.
…
"Hey," I hear a familiar and continual voice come from behind me.
Rolling over, I come to see Cato. Blue eyed, blond haired Cato.
He gives me an off crooked smile. "You're awake," he states.
No, shit - I think as stare at him.
"Well, you're not going to like this," he says out front, running his hand along the back of his neck anxiously, "but you have to um… clean up and - and Haymitch isn't here."
So you got put on "Katniss duty."
"He said he'd be a while, he went down to town to buy some things that we've run out of…" he trails on, nervously.
He asked you to keep an eye on me so I don't do anything… risky.
"Sorry." He finally spits out.
And all I can do is nod.
"Okay," he nods, "I'll - I'll give you a moment."
Nodding my head again, I force myself into the sitting position, causing my joints to crack and bones move from their frozen state. Then seated up right, I slip off the bed. I walk across the room and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me before turning on the faucet and allowing the boiling water to spew out.
As steaming water fills the tub, I strip out of my more than day old clothes. I toss them into the hamper by the door and grab a towel from the shelf behind the door, handing it over the bar that holds the shower curtain in place. Then slowly, I step foot into the tub. I sink into the boiling water, allowing it to burn my skin.
When I'm fully emerged, I shut off the faucet and on cue, in the next following few moments the bathroom door is propped open. Cato retreats from the door to sit as far away as possible from me, as far away as possible, but still be close enough to keep an eye on me. He gives me as much privacy as he can, all the while being sure nothing risky will occur.
I work fast. I wash the dirt and thin layer of sweat from my skin. I comb my hands through my over and over again, detangling the knots from my hair.
By the time I'm done, the water had gone from steaming to a neutral room temperature. Then looking up, Cato catches my eye. He knows what, nodding his head as he shuts the door allowing me to slip out of the tub as the water drains and wrapping myself in a towel.
I slip out back to the bedroom to find Cato gone.
Privacy.
And so quickly I change. I rummage through the closet, looking through all the outlandish and extravagant cloths I would never wear. Finally coming to turns, I find myself with a pair of the tight fitting pants - leggings? spandex? - like the one's Effie had made me wear on return to 12 along with my socks and a sweater that fell down to my mid-thigh.
…
I looked up at him from the table where he asked me to sit on my entrance and asked, "How long?"
"How long what," he asks turning from the stove confused.
"Since I got back," I clear up.
He scoops the egg from the pan, turning the stove off in the process. Then slicing a piece of bread from the loaf beside the stove he sets it on the plate with the egg before coming to sit across from me at the table.
"A little over a month," he's says refusing to look me in the eye as he placed the platter in front of me.
I look at the egg and bread for a moment, my stomach turning in disgust.
"And the tour," I mumble.
"You got a few more months."
I nod and we fall silent. I pick at the platter, not really eating any of it, but just moving it around the plate to make it look as if I had.
And as we sit there, Cato in silence across from me and I in silence pushing my food around like a child Haymitch comes marching through the door. Coming through the door and down the door in such a manner that it would seem to be the first time he had never stood tall and walked as his feet pounded against the ground. So pounding into the room, he drops the bags he carries on the counter before plopping down on one of the chairs at the table, wiping a small glass bottle from his pocket.
"That foods not gonna eat itself, sweetheart," he grunts, taking a drink from the bottle.
I give him a glare.
He cracks a smile.
And I don't know what happens next, but it is as if everything building inside me.
Prim's death.
Haymitch's snarky comments.
Gale's absence.
The patrolling Peacekeepers outside the Village.
My mother's disappearance.
Cato's seeming pity.
Aurelius's constant calls.
Snow's haunting words from the crowning.
Effie's care packages.
Cinna's letters.
Caesar's booming voice on the television.
Everyone's hesitation to approach.
It all just came crashing, boulders down a mountain side. And I just… snapped.
Reaching out, I swiped the glass bottle from Haymitch's grasp, still half filled with its clear liquid, before flinging it across the room. It clashes against the opposing wall with a bang. It was all like before, after I had run from the Capitol hospital and attacked the numerous Peacekeepers awaiting my coming before stepping foot onto the elevator up to 12th floor and nearly killing Haymitch with his best friend before he fixed me up. Only this time the only difference was I spoke up.
"That glass is not gonna clean up itself, asshole."
And then with that, I stand up from my chair, exiting the room.
…
They're not being any more quite than they were an hour ago when Cato had left me in my room to go calm Haymitch down. If anything, they were louder.
And so with such noise coming from down the stairs and my inability to sleep I slip out of my room. I make my way down the hall to where the top of the stairs begin and I take a seat, leaning against the banister and listening in to their conversation.
"That kids gonna be the death of me," I hear Haymitch grunt from below the stairs.
"Mitch." Cato warns.
"No, boy," he says in protest, "Tributes from 12 don't come out alive. They come out and back home in wooden boxes." He grunts. "I was never prepared to do something like this. I mean - fuck, I really don't know how to help her now, I can't even help myself beside drown out with liquor."
There's a pause before he continues again.
"My only advice to them was "stay alive."" He grunts again. "Some fucking advice… I suppose it was about time, twenty-four years, that one of them finally listened."
"Mitch," Cato warns again.
"What, boy, what am I supposed to do!?"
And there's another pause. This one is longer, more drawn out as thought builds.
"You just." I hear Cato say.
""You just?"" Haymitch repeats no doubt confused.
"Yeah."
Haymitch grunts, "A little more than "you just" sort of enlightenment is need here, boy. Remember I'm an old drunk, my brain doesn't work as well as it should."
"You just deal with whatever," Cato lectures him; "There's no booklet on How To Mentor My Victor Tribute. And even if there was, it'd be too long with every possibility and scenario possible to man that'd you would die before finish reading it. You just deal with things as they come up."
"So you're just telling to deal with it?" Haymitch presses. "That's it?"
Cato lets out a breath of frustration. "Well there's that and the obvious."
"The obvious."
"Fuck, Haymitch," Cato growls, "I know you're a drunk, but you're not stupid. You have some common sense stored up in that brain of yours, you can think can't you?
You make sure the kid gets attention, but not too much that it drives them insane. You just make sure you're there for them. You make sure they get back to doing things they use to do before the Games, you try to get them to normal as possible. You make sure you're there when the fucking nightmares come and haunt them at night. You make sure they stay away from morphine and liquor and pills.
You make sure they live right and get exactly what they deserve, as close to perfection as you can possibly get because that's what they earned."
There is a long pause.
"That's everything they didn't do for you isn't it?" Haymitch ask, knowing the answer.
But instead of a yes or no, Cato clears his throat saying: "You're going to give her that - perfection. She's going to get it right; you're going to get it right. For once something right is going to happen in the awful hell hole."
"Okay," Haymitch states. "But I'm not going to be the only one, boy. There's no doubt that I'm not gonna be the only one there for her."
There's a pause, a chair shrieks back and then is pushed forward.
"There's no doubt," Cato confirms.
And then there's footstep approaching the stairs and what do I do, a quietly slip away back into my bedroom before Cato can reach the bottom of the banister.