Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games

Chapter 3: No One Understands

Blaine's POV

It was good that I was associated with some peacekeepers, allowing me to fetch Haymitch and take us to the train station early. District 12 had enough humiliation for today. Thus, getting on the train, I led Haymitch to his assigned room. I held my breath when consumed in the stench of alcohol. But once inside, I tossed him on the bed. He groaned, but I didn't care as I took off his shoes.

"You're such . . . ike Luuucyyyy." He slurred.

"Yeah, dad, I know," I sighed, taking the flask and setting it on the dresser. "Can you do me a huge favor and try to stay sober. I think we have a chance on–"

A loud snore was heard as I looked down to see Haymitch fast asleep. I sighed, "...a chance of winning."

Breathing my disappointment, I pecked him on the cheek and went to my room. Midnight meowed out of my purse and jumped on the bed purring to the soft silk fabrics. I chuckled at his actions before going through my bathroom and freshening myself up. I was a celebrity at the Capitol, so I had to keep my part in the bargain. Otherwise, Haymitch's safety and those I care for would be at risk. But most of all, avoiding the beds of unsavory people. It took a while to figure out how President Snow arranged these dates based on our behaviors. Then again, my usual clients nearly battle it out and put money in the Profit Circle.

The last person I had sex with was Seneca. He's a good lover, as he makes each date special. As if he was trying to have a relationship with me. Even though this was transactional, I managed to find something interesting about it. Yet, I keep my heart to myself. I made a promise to never fall in love. To never give my heart to someone, for I could never give the man what he desires. I can't give commitment. Nor can I provide him security.

The thought of that saddens me.

After I freshened up, the train started to move, indicating we were leaving District 12.

Tomorrow, we will be by the Capitol in the Rocky Mountains. In sparing time before dinner, I lay on the bed and pulled out my journal. A tip I got from Lyme is to keep a record of the tributes that may come to use when mentoring the following tributes. Though it's a pity that not even ten pages of it were filled:

During the Seventieth, Parsley died in the bloodbath, while Thym died in the flood. When there were no kills after the bloodbath, the Gamemakers tried to stir an earthquake, only to break the dam that flooded the entire arena. Annie Cresta managed to survive because she knew how to swim.

The Seventy-first was some kind of forest. Not like the ones in District 12, as the trees were massive. Both tributes, Luke and Ivy, were slaughtered in the bloodbath. Johanna Mason won that year by deceiving everyone that she was weak and docile. How wrong we were as she slaughtered everyone in her wake days after the bloodbath with an ax. And since she was from District 7, she knew how to use a forest to her advantage.

On the Seventy-second, Josh and Melody were selected. It was rocky terrain. Both tributes managed to escape the bloodbath. Melody died after being chased by the Careers, only to fall to her death a few days later. Meanwhile, Josh reached the final ten…only to be killed by a Career. Miya Kit, one of the few youngest victors, won her game by chance. Then again, her district partner Chance fought tooth and nail to save her. Just as the second to last tribute killed him, Miya grabbed a bow, shooting the career in the back before coming over and killing him repeatedly with the arrow.

As for the Seventy-third game, it is a ruined city. Sage and Harper were tributes for that game, both from the Seams. Harper died in the bloodbath, going for the closest backpack, except she got stabbed in the back. Sage managed to escape, only to be killed by a boy from District 3 with a mace. However, the victor of that game was Wade Rankine, a Career from District 2, as he mashed the boy from District 10 head with a brick.

I took a deep breath, for I hadn't encountered Wade since his Victory tour.

Anyway, in this journal, I write about the Tribute's reaction to the reaping, noting their chariot appearance, training in both combat and interview, scores, and finally, recording their actions during the arena:

74th Hunger Games

Today was the 74th Hunger Games reaping, in this case, my fifth year. As usual, Haymitch was unable to keep a clear mind before the event, which led to another humiliation of District 12 on live television. . . Again. Either way, Haymitch is Haymitch, and there is nothing to do about it.

Anyway, for this year's Tributes to represent District 12 in the Hunger Games is quite a batch! For the first time in District Twelves History, we have a volunteer. The original girl who was reaped was a twelve-year-old girl named Primrose Everdeen. The frail girl who didn't look physically capable for the Hunger Games? Only this is when the first volunteer steps in. The girl who volunteers for Primrose is her sister, Katniss Everdeen. She is sixteen years old. From what I hear from the Hob, she is a hunter. Therefore, she may be suitable to survive the Hunger Games to the final eight. I need to figure out her strengths. From what I hear in the Hob, she's an excellent archer, and her partner, Gale, is known for snaring.

The second Tribute that's been selected for the boys is Peeta Mellark. He is the son of the Baker. Only a little is known about him personally. But from what I have seen at the market, he is physically strong, able to lift a hundred or two hundred pounds of flour, and was the second place winner in last year's wrestling Tournament. Must discuss with him other capabilities he may hold. For example, seeing if icing cakes may have possibilities of Camouflage. But there's more.

I saw something in Peeta's eyes that reminded me of Mike. A chance of an alliance. If Katniss is smart, she should take my advice and work with Peeta until the moment comes to split. Though that may not occur in how stubborn the girl is.

That is it for now. I shall add more information to this journal tomorrow during the Opening Ceremony. After discussing the costume, the tributes will wear it with the stylist on consent. I was furious two years ago when the last stylist had the children stark naked and covered in black coal dust, if not black paint.

Until next time,

Blaine Abernathy

I wrote down the date and sighed, remembering my chariot costume. It was stupid, for they put me in a skimpy coal miner outfit that should have been kept in the bedroom. I felt violated after that, and Haymitch would agree. Chanel tried to make me look sexy; to attract the male population of Panem. And it worked. I had tons of sponsors. Young male sponsors, in fact. That they try to keep me alive during the games. However, when I won the games and became an escort, those young sponsors tried everything to have sex with me. But a few gentlemen kindly wanted my company to join in formal events and fundraisers.

I stopped trying not to think about one man…Xavier Varick.

I tensed, taking a deep breath, as I tried to forget that dark memory.

Midnight meow worries to my distress, crawling onto my lap, rubbing his head, "I'm okay, Midnight. Just thinking about the games…"

He meowed again.

"No, I'm not depressed, just tired," I assured him.

Midnight glared at my statement. I groaned, lifting him off me. "Okay, maybe I'm a bit down. But you would be too if your kitten had to kill other kittens."

As a result, Midnight hissed. I find it odd how intelligent Midnight was. If he could talk, I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest bit. Sighing again, I went to the phone and ordered a bowl of milk. The staff knew about Midnight and loved that the cat stayed in my room and didn't wander about. If he does, it's only to the dining car waiting for a snack. It is surprising Midnight is still healthy and not a fat cat. So once I got the milk, I set it down on the desk. Midnight cheerfully replied, gulping down the warm milk.

With a smile, I left for dinner. I was the only one in the dining car when Peeta came in. The boy sat in front of me, giving me a strange look, for I was calm and neutral when my hands were stained red. I took a sip of water and stared at him.

"Yes," I almost sneered.

"What's it like when you kill somebody?" He asked. "For you . . ."

"Killed two tributes in their sleep." I finished.

That was the reason why District 12 wasn't fond of me. I killed people in their sleep, slitting their limbs, and being a thirteen-year-old boy. Some say it was a cowardly kill. For me, it was easier to let them die in their sleep than waking up to a horrifying death. Peeta gulped and nodded. I sighed, rubbing my neck.

"Peeta, have you seen my ways during the game? You were what, ten…eleven," I asked, to which Peeta nodded.

"You stayed away from the Careers and found a hot spring in the mountain where you and your ally stayed most of the game. But another team came in, and you spied on them." He said.

I nodded, "I waited for the right moment. Mike was looking out as I silently went into their camp. One had a knife. So I took it. I crawled towards the girl who was my age and slit her wrists. She didn't wake, but the blood was gushing." I took a silverware knife. "A gentle cut that the cannon won't sound off. Right away. I was vigilant and pumped with adrenaline that I crawled over to the young boy. I tried to imagine her as an animal when I killed that girl. I tried to think that she would have killed me or had killed someone. But when I saw the boy, I froze.

"When you kill, it depends on the situation. Did you kill out of defense? Then you feel less pain or guilt because you try to save yourself or somebody else. Or did you commit murder? Which I did, forever I regretted killing that boy. I thought I should have left him to die in the cold. And I was planning on doing that till Mike came up behind me and forced my hand to slit the boy's throat. A loud cannon woke the girl. When She saw what I had done, it was too late to stop the bleeding.

"That is why they call me the Cold-heart Maiden. I killed without a heart, and everyone back home wasn't pleased when I killed that boy. But to answer your question, it depends on how you kill. I want you to think this through. Are you willing to defend yourself, end somebody's misery, or become a murderer?"

The compartment was silent till Peeta spoke. "I think you did the right thing. . ."

What he said surprised me, so I stared at him.

He fixed himself up to explain. "I mean, you killed those two as quickly and painlessly as possible. And killing somebody in their sleep is probably better than dying in the real world. . ."

Taking his words in made me smile slightly. "Thank you, Peeta. Not many people understand my actions. Everyone is calling me cold-hearted."

"Well, I don't think you're cold-hearted," Peeta said. "I think you're misunderstood. I mean, you're Haymitch's daughter. When you won, people thought you would be a drunk. But here you are, healthy as a horse and not doing anything crazy."

Oh, Peeta, if only you knew what it's like to be a victor. I thought.

That physical or mental trauma can be used against you and your family. Let alone, if you become desirable, you spend the rest of your life being raped. But without saying that, I nodded. That was when Effie and Katniss came in. Effie looked around, probably wondering where Haymitch was.

"Where's Haymitch?" she asked brightly.

"Dead asleep, Effie," I answered.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day," Effie said in relief at my father's absence.

Dinner was served in courses, a soup, salad, and entrée, along with first and second dessert. I had to tell Katniss and Peeta not to overdo it. Otherwise, they'll get sick. Since the Capitol delicacy is more decadent than sugar.

"At least you two have decent manners," Effie said after the main course, which I glared at her. "The pair last year ate everything from their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."

I smirked at that memory. Sage and Harper were from the Seams. They never got a chance to eat a full meal or courses before. If not having meat and potatoes on the same plate. When they started eating with their hands, I tossed my fork and told Effie, 'If you can't beat them, join them.' Sure, Effie scolded me afterward, but what could I say? I like to join the crowd. Doing that earned Sage and Harper's trust.

Once done eating, Katniss decided to mess with Effie by wiping her hands on the tablecloth. I tried hard not to laugh, but it came out as a snicker/snort. Effie was not pleased that I took the opportunity to suggest going to the other car. Effie nodded as we went to the car to watch the replays of the reaping. Effie turned on the television as I sat down between the two tributes.

"It's better to know your opponent before going into the games," I said. "Sometimes, a first glance can judge who can be an ally or a threat."

They nodded and watched the screen. I got up and went to sit next to Effie on the loveseat. We watched the other tributes, and I found it hard when I saw a few twelve and fourteen-year-olds were reaped. Though I laugh as usual when District 2 boys beat each other up to be Tribute. Like I said before, they are Spartans. Though my snickers led me to get a smack upside the head by Effie. In retaliation, I stuck my tongue out at her in response.

When the show got to District 12, I groaned in embarrassment when Haymitch realized he was taking secretive swigs. Then showing the commotion of Prim being reaped and Katniss volunteering. Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith thought it strange when District 12 gave the hand gesture as if it was a local custom. Then Haymitch fell off the stage, and I smacked myself again. Afterward, Peeta's name was called, the shaking of hands, and finally, the anthem played as the screen went black.

Effie grunted, adjusting her wig. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

I glared at her angrily, which she backed away quickly. She knows I can kill her in her sleep in defending my father's honor. Though Peeta unexpectedly laughed.

"He was drunk," Peeta said. "He's drunk every year."

"Every day," Katniss added as she smirked.

I had enough, as I walked up to them and smacked them upside the head. They stopped and looked at me in horror, realizing I was still in the same room. I was angry, close to crying, as I stood there with my hands on my hips. "That's my father, you brats! You don't know anything about him, so don't think one second that he's some buffoon. He suffered in many ways, more than you can ever imagine. Once you enter the arena, you'll understand. He has lost his family and wife and almost lost me, along with forty-six tributes. So don't think for one second that he's just a drunkard. He's better than a morphling."

Effie placed a hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me down. For she knows I was protective of my father's name. They don't know that Haymitch knows his limits and stops for a few days of drinking for me. He was the only family I had left, and I was his only child. He wouldn't die and leave me here to fend for myself by his choice.

"Yes," Effie hissed. "How odd you two find this amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world of these Games. The one who advises you lines up your sponsors and dictates the presentation of any gift. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

"But we still have Blaine?" Katniss reminded.

I scoffed, crossing my arms, "I can either help one of you or I work with my dad, and we save you both. And let me tell you, it was us that Josh got to the final ten."

Just then, Haymitch walked into the compartment. "I miss supper?" He slurred before vomiting on the expensive carpet and collapsing. Immediately I was by his side, helping him up.

"So laugh away!" Effie said as she left us tributes and victors be.

I sighed and tried to help Haymitch, not caring if I got puke on me. Peeta made his way over, lending a hand in helping me.

"I tripped?" Haymitch asked. "Smells bad." As he wipes his hand on his nose.

"Yeah, dad, you tripped," I assured softly.

"Let's get you back to your room," Peeta said. "Clean you up a bit."

Katniss excused herself and went to bed. I sighed as Peeta, and I tried to carry Haymitch back to his room. It was tricky, but we got him into his room and towards the bathtub. I turned on the shower and got a wash rag to clean the old man up.

"It's okay," Peeta said, taking the wash rag. "I'll take it from here."

"Playing kiss-up won't help," I warned, while removing Haymitch's shirt.

"I'm sorry, Blaine. It was uncalled for." Peeta apologized.

Thinking this through, I sighed, "Get some pajamas for me."

Peeta did so as instructed. The boy helped me clean Haymitch and got the old goof to bed. This time I confiscated his whiskey. Not allowing him to wake up to drink again. Also, silently told him I wasn't happy and that he needed to clean up his act. Afterward, I said goodnight to Peeta and headed to bed. Taking a quick shower before crawling to bed with Midnight around my arms as the black cat purred in comfort.

"They just don't understand, Midnight," I mumbled. "No one from Twelve would understand."

Midnight gave a meow and a gentle lick on the cheek.

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