Chapter 8: Conversations with "Dead" People

I'd been deemed unfit for a victory tour due to my meltdown on stage, and so now, I was heading home to my new house in Victor's Village. Nobody was there to greet Haymitch and I as we departed the train, and we walked in silence until we reached the little village of houses.
"Do I just pick one?" I asked, looking at the houses that looked like a replica of each other.
"They're all the same" he shrugged. I looked around, noting the lack of Peacekeepers in this area.
"While we have no guards, did you want to come meet someone?" I asked, keeping my eyes peeled for anyone who might be watching us. Haymitch frowned in confusion but nodded. I offered my hand and led him through District 12 and towards the woods, that were now fenced off stating they were electrified. Spoiler alert, they weren't. Haymitch panicked as I reached for the wire, intending to move it so I would fit through.
"It's electrified" he warned. I smiled and reached my foot to tap the bottom wire. No zap. "It's…not?" he asked, confused.
"It's a psychological thing. Nobody wants to test it, but Gran used to throw stuff at it to see if it was powered or not. It never was" I explained. We walked through the woods and I noticed the exact spot where Haymitch's mood changed. It was the place Lenore died, right by the log they used to sit on.
"How much further?"
"A little further" I smiled, taking his hand and leading him down by the lake where a grey-haired woman was sitting on a blanket, throwing bread to the birds.
"Is that?"
"Gran!" I called out, catching the woman's attention. She turned and smiled, slowly getting to her feet and heading towards me.

This was home, wrapped up in Gran's arms by the lake as we talked about life, hopes and regrets. Gran wasn't angry about me killing Goldinia, which surprised me. But then she reminded me about her poisoning people in her arena, and I understood.
"I don't blame you for doing what you had to do to survive" Gran told me, "we all saw those final moments. You have no idea how terrified I was when she had you against that tree and you just dropped" she continued, choking up when she mentioned my near-death experience. Haymitch put a hand over Gran's.
"You raised a strong young woman, Lucy" Haymitch told her, then looked to me.
"I did" Gran smiled.
"Haymitch, can we talk?" I asked him. He nodded and stood, offering a hand to help me up.

We headed to the pier for some privacy and dangled our legs off the edge as we sat down.
"Haymitch, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about-"
"Stop" he said softly, his hand on my thigh. I glanced over to see him looking at me with an…odd look on his face.
"What-?" I started.
"I was terrified" he admitted, a frown now covering his features. "When I saw Goldinia strangling you at the end, I…" he trailed off, shaking his head. I rested my hand on his hand that was on my thigh, and he faced me. "Part of me wished I was still in the Games so I could protect you."
"Never wish for that, Haymitch" I told him, "I never want you to be in the Games ever again" I said firmly, twisting so I was facing him slightly. He had red-rimmed eyes, and I took his face in my hands.
"I'm sorry I was such an ass" he whispered, his hands covering mine on his face.
"I get it, I should've told you. But I was ashamed."
"Don't be. I get it, I was just angry" he admitted, "I wasn't expecting that."
"I care about you, Haymitch. I understand that you might need time, and that you will always hold Lenore as your all-fire love" I confessed, watching his face for a reaction. I attempted to remove my hands from his face but he held them firm, locking his eyes with mine.
"I'm trying to hold onto her, but also let her go at the same time" he breathed, his eyes closing. "I feel so torn, because I want to move forward but there's so much guilt. I fed her that damn-" I shoved him off the pier and into the lake, laughing as his head appeared above the water. He glared at me for a moment before smiling and splashing me, making me laugh even more. I stood and did a cannonball off the pier, enjoying the rush of the cold water. My head popped up near Haymitch, and he has a grin on his face.
"This is my happy place, the lake" I told him. He swam closer and rested a hand on my cheek.
"You've become my happy place" Haymitch returned, resting his forehead against mine.

We made our way back to Haymitch's house after drying off at Gran's house, both of us feeling refreshed and lighter than we had before the trip.
"Come inside, then you can get changed into something less…Capitol-y" Haymitch said, leading me inside his house.
"I don't have any clothes with me" I shrugged.
"Wear mine, they'll be a little big on you, but you can probably tighten them" he offered, showing me to his room, which was a mess. He handed me a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. "Bathroom is across the hall, my house is your house" he smiled.

After stepping out of the shower and getting dressed, I found Haymitch's clothes to be slightly too big. The drawstring for the sweatpants was pulled tight to keep them up over my hips, and the shirt was loose and fell to my thighs. Haymitch was sitting on the couch, nursing a glass of scotch when I got back downstairs.
"Drinking again?" I asked as I dropped onto the couch beside him. "Alcohol destroys your liver, you know?" I pointed out. He finally looked to me.
"Tell me why you saved Laurel over Reese" he said finally, putting the still-full glass on the table beside him.
"Reese was still groggy, she hadn't fully regained consciousness and I couldn't carry her. Laurel was capable of running, she just needed a reminder to get moving" I replied. The whole attempt to save Reese had gotten Ivy and Axel killed, and Reese died anyway. It was pointless. I should have just let Reese die and maybe then I could've won the way I wanted. With more of us, we could've overtaken the careers and then laid down our weapons. That was something I would never forgive myself for. I didn't realise I'd started crying until Haymitch wiped the tear from my cheek.
"I'll make you a deal; I'll slow down with the drinking, if you forgive yourself for what happened in the arena" Haymitch pitched, a frown forming between his brows. I watched him carefully, not knowing whether or not this was a trick. Haymitch was an alcoholic, he wouldn't be able to stop without going through withdrawals, and those could kill him if not handled with care. But he wasn't offering stone-cold sober, he was offering a reduction.
"Slow down with it? To what?" He sighed, looking to the glass and then to me.
"I need something to dull the pain, and the guilt" he started, "I sleep with a damn knife under my pillow because the memories of my Games and what happened after, haunt me even when I'm asleep" he admitted, shaking his head in defeat.
"Counteroffer" I suggested, making him look back to me, "I let go of my guilt if you let go of yours. You don't need the alcohol if you don't hold onto that pain anymore. Have one or two a day until the guilt is gone and then drop to one and eventually…none" I explained my offer. He sighed, watching me for a beat before grabbing the scotch and downing it in just two sips before looking back to me.
"I can't promise anything, Blue. But I'll try" he promised. Sitting the glass upside down on the table, a sign that I recognised from the Covey when we were at a bar singing, meant no more refills. I smiled at him, taking his hand in mine and stroking the rough skin of his knuckles.

Screaming woke me at some ungodly hour of the night, I raced to find the noise and saw Haymitch tossing and turning in his bed, the sheets tangled around his waist.
"Haymitch" I called out, remembering what he'd said about a knife under his pillow. I wasn't trying to get myself killed, I'd seen Haymitch wielding a knife in the arena, he was lethal. "Haymitch!" I tried again, my knees hitting the end of the bed. He was still thrashing around, screaming, begging someone to save them. Was he dreaming of his mother? Or his brother, Sid? Or…Lenore? Okay, that was enough, the tears rolling down his face were breaking my heart. Knife or no, I was waking him. I straddled his tangled feet and kept my hands free to defend myself if he swung out with the knife. "Haymitch, wake up!" I yelled, one hand pushing on his stomach. His head shot up and both hands swung out, one reflecting the streetlight from outside. The knife. I reach up my hands to defend myself and screamed as I felt skin being sliced on my face.

Author's Note: Well…oops! Another lovely cliffhanger. But as per my current schedule, you'll find out the next part tomorrow! Happy reading!