I started settling in to a routine. I helped Birch get ready for school, and then Mom and I would walk to our old house. We started a garden that we would keep tending. We planted anything we could get our hands on. There was lots of space after we had cleared everything out. We figured that we could give the produce away in the fall when it was full grown.
I found that I enjoyed gardening. I liked watching the little sprouts stick out from the ground and grow bigger and bigger. Nothing was actually producing yet, but they were getting there. I found that this was a good way to keep my mind occupied. I was focusing on furthering growth instead of the memories of death that followed me.
Mom would go about her own business, and started helping out in town at different shops. While she went out, I would make my way to Haymitch. Usually, I found him cleaning in his house since it had been neglected for so long, and once in a while, I found him hunched at the kitchen table, bleary eyed and barely coherent. The only thing that kept my anger away on these days was the lopsided grin and his greeting of "Hello, Darling."
On the bad days, I would sit with him, and he would sober up a little with me there. He would talk about whatever nightmare had woken him up and then I would give him updates on town and my garden.
On the good days, I would get him to come for a walk with me. We would go to town and spend our money at various shops, buying things that were necessary for us, and other things that could be needed for other families around District 12. Our trips always ended in the meadow. We would sit in the grass and talk.
He never talked about his Games, and I would never ask. I know how it feels, not wanting to remember such things. He does talk about his family, and Snow. We always end up laying in the grass, and eventually my head rests on his shoulder and his arm holds me tight to him as we stare at the sky, sharing little facts about ourselves.
~oOo~
One day, Mom went to town early, leaving me to go to the garden myself. I quickly dressed and walked out the front door. On the porch, I look across the road at Haymitch's house. I see movement through a window. It must be a good day.
I smile as I walk across to his house. I don't bother knocking as I open the door. "Haymitch!" I call out.
I walk in to the kitchen and find him scrambling eggs at the counter. "Hey, Darling." He smiles at me, "Egg?"
"Please." I sit at the table.
He continues his preparations as he speaks, "why are you here so early?"
"Why are you up so early?"
He smirks over his shoulder. "Your sister was a little loud leaving the house this morning."
I laugh. "She had a project at school that she was excited for."
"You said she hates school." He responds.
"Yes, but she has taken up a keen interest in bugs." I say, the smile slipping from my face.
"Good for her." He says, not looking at me. He knows, and leaves me to my thoughts.
There is a clicking sound as the gas stove flares to life, the flames jump up, touching the metal above it before settling down, flickering in the air.
I smell burning, hear the sizzle and feel the nerves in my hand burn, and I scream, my eyes shut tight against the pain, the smell.
The next thing that I am aware of is warm hands on my arms, squeezing gently. I hear talking, but can't make anything out over the sound of my screams.
"Raven!"
I am shaken, and I stop screaming. My breaths come rapidly as my eyes, wide in fear, stare into the grey orbs that are always so comforting. I am shaking, my right hand wrapped around the wrist of my disfigured left arm. Those two non-existent fingers burn so intensely still.
"You're okay." His voice is calm, his face inches from mine. I am struggling for breath, each inhale seemingly void of any oxygen. His hands move to each side of my face, steady. As I stare into his eyes, Haymitch makes a show of inhaling, long and slow, and exhaling the same. He does this over and over until my breathing matches his own.
Once I am calmer, he pulls away from me and scoots a chair directly in front of me. Our knees are touching and he reaches forward again, this time pulling my hands apart. I vaguely notice a dark red hand print around my left wrist. "I'm sorry." He sighs. "I didn't think about the fire."
We had discovered a few weeks after returning home that a quickly lit fire, or one that smells strongly, brought out the worst reaction in me. I was never in the kitchen when my mom cooked, but she didn't know the reason. I asked Haymitch to keep it to himself, and he had silently nodded.
I still hadn't spoken as he held my hands, his thumbs rubbing circles on the backs of my hands. I let out a shaky breath. "My fingers are burning."
He takes the disfigured hand in both of his, and my remaining fingers curl around his. He brings my hand up and presses his lips to the knuckles of my missing fingers. "I'm sorry I can't do more." His eyes are sad, and filled with guilt.
That is what snaps me back. I free my hands from his and place each one on the sides of his face. "You keep me sane." I tell him. "None of this is your fault."
"If I would have just waited, or sent you in the other room, this wouldn't have happened." He says, eyes looking down to our knees.
"No." I respond, and his eyes never leave his knees. "Look at me." He fights it for a moment and I rub my thumbs over his cheeks. His eyes flit up to mine. "This wouldn't have happened if I had never been in there. This is not your fault." I lean forward and press my lips to his. His hands find my face, and I pull away. "Can I have my breakfast now?"
He smiles, his eyes not as full of guilt as they were. "Of course."
"I'm going to go to the bathroom." I say, standing from the chair.
He nods and heads back to the stove. He waits to continue until I am out of the room. I take a few moments to relax, and splash water on my face to rinse the tears that I hadn't even noticed shedding. As I do this, I notice the hand mark on my wrist, already turning purple.
I walk back to the kitchen and give him a shy smile as I sit down. He immediately places a plate of eggs in front of me. We eat together in silence, enjoying the calm after the storm.
"You never did answer my question." He says, pushing his plate away. "Why are you here so early?"
"I came to see if I could talk you in to coming to the garden with me." I smirk. He has never come out to the garden with me.
"I think I will pass on that, Darling." He smiles.
"Never hurts to ask." I give him a tired smile.
"Are you sure you still want to go? You look terrible."
"Thanks." I say, dryly. "Just what every girl wants to hear."
"You know what I mean." He sighs. "Stay. Relax here for a while." He pulls me up with him and leads me upstairs. I follow, not having any fight in me. He is right, I am exhausted.
He leads me to his bedroom. I had only been here once before, one night the week we had moved to the Victor's Village. I was in bed, trying to sleep but unable to stop the myriad of images that played out behind my eyelids. I heard a low yelling, and sat up slowly in bed. I checked on Mom and Birch and found them sleeping peacefully.
As I went downstairs, the noise was coming from outside. I followed it to Haymitch's door. I had made my way inside, and followed the screaming up the stairs and into the far bedroom.
He was thrashing around in bed, screaming and yelling incoherently. "Haymitch?" I had called out. The yelling didn't stop, but his movements had seemed to calm. I walked up to him and tapped his arm, saying his name the whole time I moved. He had shot up and was sitting straight up in bed, and I repeated his name.
He turned to look at me, eyes wild with fear. He was panting and shaking. I had quickly climbed into bed next to him, pushing him down on his back. His skin glistened with sweat, but I curled up beside him, and his arms had instantly pulled me tightly to him. It didn't take long for his heart rate to settle, and his breathing calmed. "I drink so I don't dream." He had whispered.
I leaned up and looked at his face that was bathed in moonlight. "You aren't alone anymore." His arms tightened around me, and I relaxed against his side again.
We had fallen asleep quickly, and my mom didn't question me as I walked into our house, still in my pajamas and shoeless, the next morning.
This time, he pushed me to sit on the bed, and he slipped my boots off my feet. He climbed into bed and pulled me down next to him. I cuddled into his side, as close as I could get, and sighed. "Thank you."
"Anytime, Darling." His hand moved over my arm and back and I drifted off to sleep, exhausted from my panic of the morning.
~oOo~
I spent most of the day with Haymitch. Had I broke down like that in front of anyone else, I would be looked at like a mad-woman, or possibly with pity. Neither was something that I liked thinking about. But Haymitch understood. He knew what I felt because he had dealt with the same problems.
We don't ever do much, just relax together. A way to not be alone. We haven't even slept together. I know that I am not prepared for that. I am too lost in the memories of the Games. I have to fight every moment to not start screaming because something makes me think of the days in the arena. And Haymitch never judges me for the quiet moments that my eyes fixate in the distance when I am fighting an invisible enemy. I never judge him his days that he loses the fight against the bottle, drowning out his own memories of his own arena.
I am putting my shoes back on to walk back home that afternoon, Haymitch leaning against the wall. "Don't forget, Mom is making dinner for all of us tomorrow."
"She makes dinner for us every Tuesday. I haven't forgotten." He smirks at me.
"Just reminding you." I smile back at him, giving my laces a final tug. I stand, and walk over to him. I give him a small kiss and step back toward the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Darling."
I walk across the road and enter my house. It seems dark inside, and I look around. My eyes land on Birch who is sitting at the table in the kitchen, eyes wide and back straight. I feel a chill go down my spine as I stand straighter, waiting for the attack.
Mom comes into the room, and gives me a small, unnatural smile. "There is a guest for you in the office."
A man in a suit comes around the corner from behind her. "Miss Eversole." He extends his hand toward the hall. "This way, please."
I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat and nod. I make my way to the room, and stand outside the closed door. The man reaches in front of me and opens the door.
The scent of roses and blood assaults me as soon as I step foot inside. He sits at the desk, his smile not reaching his eyes. "Ah, Miss Eversole. Please sit." He nods to the chair across the desk from him.
I do as he says. "President Snow, what a pleasure." I do my best to smile.
"Please dear, no lies today." He waves a hand at me, and my smile drops.
"Okay." I nod.
"I have been asked by the residents of the Capitol about when they will get the pleasure of your company again." He starts, and I focus my gaze onto his forehead. "I told them that the Victory Tour is coming up, and that we are giving you time to enjoy your family." He raises a bushy eyebrow before continuing. "There are many people who are vying for your company in the Capitol, my dear. There seems to be lots of love for the newest Victor."
"How kind of the Capitol to remember me." I struggle to keep my voice pleasant and unwavering.
"Yes. It is very kind of them. You see, there are obligations that not only I have to the public. My job is to run the country. The Districts supply the country with whatever is necessary to keep it running. The celebrities keep the population happy." He explains. "You dear, have been raised to the status of celebrity, many of the residents just cant seem to get enough of you."
I continue to stare at his forehead, slightly confused.
At my lack of response, he continues, "Requests for your company have started to roll in. Now, I have put them off for the meantime, but they are very much looking forward to your visit at the end of the Tour. You will do everything in your power to make sure my citizens are happy, wont you, Miss Eversole?"
"Of course, President Snow." I respond, my eyebrows pulling down.
"Of course you will." That smile is back, sending a wave of apprehension down my spine. "Some residents of the Capitol will be able to… lets say… pay for the pleasure of your company. Some have already started." My eyes widen, and his smile spreads. "I will be auctioning off the first of such occasions, usually they go for much more." He pauses for a moment and his eyes sharpen, "We are of an understanding?"
"I believe so, sir." I nod, still staring forward, my hands clamped together in my lap to keep them from shaking.
"Is there anything that would, say, lower the value of your company?" He lifts an eyebrow.
"What would do that?" I ask.
"Well, say you are diseased, can't have that spreading around. Or are horribly disfigured in some way. There is also the question of past… held company. Some find it important that theirs is the first company that should be held."
My mouth opens and closes for a few seconds as I find my words, and President Snow calmly waits for me to speak, "I have no diseases or disfigurements, other than my hand," I hold up my two fingers and thumb, "And as for, past company, there has been some."
"Ah, so Abernathy has staked his claim, then?" He sighs. "No matter, you will just go straight to the going rate, then." He leans forward on the desk, and his tone changes, becomes more menacing, if such a thing is possible. "You will do this for your country?"
"Anything for Panem." I nod.
"Good. Accidents happen to those who waver and their families." He stands, and I stumble up after. "Well, we will see you for the Victory Tour. I will be anxiously awaiting your return to the Capitol."
"Me too, sir." I say through a big exhale.
"Now, dear, we agreed on no lies." My eyes widen slightly and I nod. "Have a good night." He leaves the room, and I hear the front door open and shut behind him.
The house is quiet for a few moments before there are quick footsteps to the room. The door swings open and Mom and Birch are surrounding me.
"What did he want?" "Why was he here?" They start asking. I am just staring at the door, swinging still after the force they used to open it.
I know what he wants. I had heard that he rents out the attractive Victors like prostitutes. Haymitch wouldn't budge, and his family was killed. I look at Mom and then Birch. Their eyes full of worry.
"I can't." I whisper. My head shakes back and forth, and I feel tears welling in my eyes.
"What's happened?" Mom asks.
"I'm going out." I whisper. I walk past them and in to the hall. They are hot on my heels as I make it to the front door.
"But, it's late." Birch says, worry coloring her voice.
"Don't wait up." I say, walking out the door and away from the house.
I am walking around the edge of the District, along the fence line. I haven't gone out since I've been back. The air is hot and heavy still, and it stifles me as I try to think. I have to do it. My family… Haymitch... they are what is at risk. Maybe even Forest and his family.
My feet keep walking, carrying me through the darkness, as I think of all of the terrible things that could happen were I to refuse the President's order. Before I know it, I slowly open the door to his house. I am up the stairs just as quietly as I entered, and stop once I am standing next to his bed.
He is staring at me with wide eyes, sitting up in his bed, a bottle of unopened booze in his hand. "What is it?"
"Have you been drinking?" I whisper.
He looks at the bottle in his hand and then sets it on the bedside table. "No." He stands and walks to me, and places his hands on my shoulders. "What happened?"
I meet his eyes, "Snow paid me a visit."
His eyes fill with anger. "What did he say?"
"He told me that there are Capitol citizens vying for the pleasure of my company." I tell him, my voice stronger than before.
He sighs, and closes his eyes. "He moves fast."
"He said that accidents happen to people that don't keep the citizens happy." My eyes are filling with tears again, and my voice shakes.
"I am telling you from experience that they do." His hands move to my face. "What did you say?"
"I agreed. Didn't see much of a choice." I tell him.
He turns from me and picks up the bottle from the table. He holds it in his hands, staring at it.
I see him do this often. Fighting the urge to drink away the pain. He struggles every day.
I walk to him and place my hands flat on his back. "I told him that he could not fetch the high price of my first time." I whisper.
I feel the muscles in his back tense before he steps around me, heavy footsteps echoing in the room as he paces. He finally stops, still staring at the bottle. His head snaps up before the bottle goes flying. It smashes into the wall, spraying the vile smelling alcohol and glass over the wall and on the floor.
"Haymitch, stop." I go to him, and place my hands on his arms.
"He controls everything! He ruined my life, and is now coming for yours!" He yelled.
"He can't control everything." I tell him. "He can't control that I love you. And he can't control that I am yours before anyone else."
His eyes bore into mine. I feel him start to pull away, still angry. "Stop." I tell him. "There is nothing we can do other than what we CAN control."
"Raven…" He sighs. I see that anger leave his eyes. I know that I have gotten through to him.
"Please, Haymitch. Don't let them be the first." I am practically begging.
His lips are on mine, forceful and I can feel the anger that simmers under the surface. He pulls away, his forehead resting against mine, both of us panting. "Are you sure?"
"I have never been more sure of anything."
~oOo~
I am laying in his bed, his fingers trace over my skin as we think over what has happened. I roll over and rest my head against his bare chest.
"Thank you." I tell him.
"I'm angry." He tells me.
I nod, not lifting my head. There is a spot between his shoulder and chest that cradles my head perfectly, and I'm not sure that I ever want to pull away.
"You didn't get to make this decision for yourself. You were pushed into it." He continues. I feel his muscles tensing around me.
I lift my head and lean on my elbow. I bring my free hand to his face. I trace a finger over his features, across his lips and down to his chest.
"He didn't take this decision away from me. He just took away the time for me to make it." I sigh before I continue. "I would have ended up here sooner or later." I smirk at him, trying to lighten the mood a little.
"Would you?" He asks. "Or would you have found someone that you have more in common with?"
"Someone I have more in common with?" My eyebrows shoot up and my voice raises an octave. "Who would I have anything in common with? Want me to go find a nice gardener somewhere? A gardener in District 12 would be hard enough to find, let alone one that has murdered five children and watched even more be killed!"
His eyebrows lift, "I-"
"No! Stop!" I pull away from him and sit up in the bed. I think for a moment before turning around and looking at him. "What the hell, Haymitch?" I ask. "You think that I came to you because anyone would be better than what Snow has planned? If that was the case, I could have gone to Cray, or anyone in town! I could have just gone to the Capitol!" My eyes lock on his. "And what about the fact that I spend most of every day with you? I come to you daily, I tell you everything that comes to mind, good and bad, and I make sure that you have someone to talk to, too! I look forward to coming here every day, I love having you eat dinner with my family and I!" I stop and look above him, holding back yet more tears. "I love you, Idiot!"
His arms snake around me, pulling me back down. I feel the tears fall as I cry on his chest. His hands soothe me as they travel over my arms and back. "I'm sorry." He whispers. "You're right." There is a pause. "I love you, too. I will never not. I will always be here for you."
We lay together like that for a while before I fall into a very restful sleep. The comfort of his arms around me keeping me safe, like he did before. Like he promises to do forever.