It's two days later when the storm outside finally settles down enough that it's safe to go outside. As much as I despised Dani's new cat, he did provide some form of entertainment when Dani found an old ribbon for him to chase around. Levi is also being given the go ahead to finally move and even go home as long as he promises to keep it clean and slather some ointment that Aunt Prim made. He won't be able to sleep on his back for a while either, which she said might make it harder for him to sleep. I offer to walk him home but he's silent the whole time. It seems like the fight was whipped out of him too and he doesn't mention anything about rebelling.
Sawyers waiting by the entrance of the Victor Village when I get back.
"How did he seem about going home?" Sawyer asks.
I shrug. "He didn't say much. Or anything at all, really. He seems different."
"Everything seems different," Sawyer says. "I think things are really changing around here."
"Well, I want to go see Haymitch," I say, setting off towards our mentor's house. "I hope he did okay with the storm."
We're able to walk back in, but instead of finding him on the couch, we find him rummaging in the kitchen. The place looks like a pigsty, shirts and bottles everywhere and a stench I can't quite place that has me covering my nose and mouth with the sleeve of my jacket.
"He can't live like this," Sawyer gags.
"Well I don't want to clean it," I say.
"I don't either," he says. "But my grandma might."
"Your grandma?" I ask. I don't think he's ever mentioned her.
He nods. "My dad's mom. Don't worry, she's much more open minded than he is," he says. "I've been wanting to find a way to give my family some of my money. If she thinks she's earning it then she'll accept it no problem."
"Let's hope she's open to it," I say, stepping over a pile of laundry. "Haymitch!"
I go to the kitchen just in time to find him attempting to drink some rubbing alcohol from an old first aid kit. "Haymitch!" I scold him, ripping the drink from his hand. "You can't drink that, it'll kill you!"
"It's not like I've got any other options," he says, trying to take it back from me.
"I need to talk to you," I say, trying to keep it out of reach.
"I'll talk to you when I've had my fill," he grumbles.
"I think I have a bottle in my house," Sawyer says. "It was already stocked when I moved in. Let me grab it." He goes out the back door, leaving me alone with Haymitch.
"Haymitch, you need to clean up," I say, pointing to his living room. "You're going to rot in here."
When he doesn't say anything, his eyes closed, leaning against his fridge, I say, "Sawyer's going to get his grandma to do it."
"Do whatever you want," he says, waving me off. I'm considering this a win.
Sawyer comes back with a bottle of liquor and we're able to coax Haymitch to sit down. He patiently waits until he's had a drink and finally acknowledges us.
"So when are we leaving?" He asks. Sawyer had told him about my wanting to run away with all of us.
"We're not doing that anymore," I say.
"Saw the flaw in your plan did you?" He says.
"I have a new plan.," I tell him. "I want to start an uprising."
Haymitch raises a brow, looking over at Sawyer who just raises his hands in defeat like he's given up on trying to understand me. I didn't tell him so he must be surprised too.
Then, Haymitch bursts out laughing. He doesn't take me seriously at all. "Well, I want a drink. You let me know how that works out for you, though," he says.
"Then what's your plan?" I spit back at him.
"My plan is to make sure everything is just perfect for your wedding," says Haymitch. "I called and rescheduled the photo shoot without giving too many details. I'm sure you realize by now we can't exactly afford to step out of line."
"Effie had that fixed," he says. "Do you know she asked me if I'd like to give you away? I told her the sooner the better."
"Isn't that supposed to be my father's job?" I ask, although I have no interest in having my Dad anywhere near the Capitol.
Haymitch raises a brow, saying the same thing. It's almost scary how much we seem to always be on the same page.
Well then, I guess that's the end of that conversation.
The next day, Sawyer accompanies me on my walk to the Hob. Haymitch even decides to tag along, saying he wants to pick up a few things, but he lags a few steps behind, and I barely notice he's there.
I'm still upset about Haymitch's lack of response to anything. I keep thinking there must be something we could do.
But when we step closer to the square, I think things have moved too far.
Nothing much will happen during the blizzard. That's what Sawyer and I had agreed. But we couldn't have been more wrong. The square has been transformed. A huge banner with the seal of Panem hangs off the roof of the Justice Building. Peacekeepers, in pristine white uniforms, march on the cleanly swept cobblestones. Along the rooftops, more of them occupy nests of machine guns. Most unnerving is a line of new constructions - an official whipping post, several stockades, and a gallows - set up in the center of the square. Things are changing, and not for the better.
"Thread's a quick worker," says Haymitch.
Some streets away from the square, I see a blaze flare up. None of us has to say it. That can only be the Hob going up in smoke. I think of Ms. Piper and all the others who make their living there.
"Haymitch, you don't think everyone was still in- - " I can't finish the sentence.
"Nah, they're smarter than that. You'd be, too, if you'd been around longer," he says. "Well, I better go see how much rubbing alcohol the apothecary can spare."
He trudges off across the square and I look at Sawyer. "What's he want that for?" Then I realize the answer. "We can't let him drink it. He'll kill himself, or at the very least go blind. I've got some white liquor put away at home."
"Me, too. Maybe that will hold him until someone at the Hob finds a way to be back in business," says Sawyer. "I need to check on my family."
"I'll go, too. Drop by the bakery on my way home," I say.
"Thanks." Sawyer gives me an appreciative smile. I don't think he wanted to go alone.
My hand automatically reaches for his and it's a comforting thing to not feel so alone when everything feels like it's falling apart.
As we walk, the streets are almost deserted, which would not be so unusual at this time of day if people were at the mines, kids at school. But they're not. I see faces peeking at us out of doorways, through cracks in shutters.
An uprising, I think. What an idiot I am. There's an inherent flaw in the plan that both Levi and I were too blind to see. An uprising requires breaking the law, thwarting authority. We've done that our whole lives, or our families have. Poaching, trading on the black market, mocking the Capitol in the woods. But for most people in District 12, a trip to buy something at the Hob would be too risky. And I expect them to assemble in the square with bricks and torches? Even the sight of Sawyer and me is enough to make people pull their children away from the windows and draw the curtains tightly.
We stop by Sawyer's house first and I offer to leave him here alone but he refuses.
"We're getting married, Willow," he rolls his eyes.
"And I'm sure your father will be thrilled to know you're stuck with me for life," I scowl.
Sawyer throws me an annoyed glance, knocking on the door. "He doesn't have a say."
"Well to be fair, neither do we," I joke but I don't think Sawyer appreciated that very much. "Sorry!" I kiss his cheek, right as the door opens.
"Oh great," Mr. Hawthorne crossed his arms, glaring at the two of us. "I can't believe you brought her here."
"Gale!" Mrs. Hawthorne appears in the doorway, chastising her husband. "Sawyer," she smiles, reaching a hand out to touch his cheek. "Hello, Willow," she says, more kindly than I was expecting.
"We just wanted to check in. Make sure everyone was okay," Sawyer says.
"Really? Because you didn't seem to care about this family when you put yourself in front of that peacekeeper for that merchant bastard's poaching charge. You put our entire livelihood at stake. Everyone's lives at stake. We're not going to be able to go past that fence, or trade at the Hob. Families are living in fear now because of you!" He says, pointing straight at me. "Because you wanted to put on this little act. Well guess what, nobody is buying it and now we're paying the price. But what do you care? You get to go back to your cushy life in the Victor's Village while the rest of us have to figure out how not to starve!"
"Dad!" Sawyer jumps in. "Don't talk to her like that. It's not her fault!"
Mr. Hawthorne scoffs. "Of course. You're brainwashed by her like the rest of the country! You used to be a good son. I don't even want to look at you right now."
"Dad-"
"Don't come back until she's gone. For good." Mr. Hawthorne spits out the last words and slams the door on us. We hear some angry talking and heavy footsteps before the door opens again. This time it's just Sawyer's mom.
"I'll talk to him," she promises, kissing Sawyer's head. "You know how stubborn he is." She gives a sad smile before closing the door and I can't help but feel like we've had this conversation before.
"Sawyer, this isn't worth it. Maybe if you tell him that's it's all-"
"No," he says, cutting me off. "You're going to be in my life. Regardless of whatever this is," he says, gesturing between the two of us. "I can't lose you. Nobody else gets it."
"Haymitch does," I try to joke, but I know it's not the time or place.
"You know what I mean," Sawyer glares.
I nod. "I do." Not even Haymitch could fully understand me the way Sawyer does, the same way neither of us would ever be able to fully understand him. While the three of us understand the horrors we had to go through in the games and the coping, or lack thereof, that comes after, each game is its own unique experience.
Every Victor, even if we're all labeled the same, will forever be alone as the sole survivor of their games.
Except Sawyer and I. We were the only two people lucky enough to have each other, and while there was bad to accompany the good of this, I didn't want to focus on that right now.
"You won't lose me," I tell him, touching my forehead against his. I don't know how true that will be but for him, I'll do what I have to to make it so. "And I won't lose you."