If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
The Capitol had sent her home with him on the same train, the difference being that he was the only one still breathing. Haymitch couldn’t get her out of his mind, having felt all these feelings stir for her in the last days they spent together, despite knowing they could never be. It only made it harder and whenever he would close his eyes, the faces of those he killed flashing behind his closed lids, she would always be the first and the last he saw, lingering as if a part of him hoped that by holding onto the image she might return to him.
Although he didn’t dare to strip her, he did open Maysilee’s coffin and placed the satin gown she had worn on the interview over her like a blanket, covering the plain white dress they’d put her in. She deserved to be buried in more than just the Capitol’s rags, and she had looked beautiful in the violet dress. More beautiful than any girl he’d ever met.
As soon as the train arrived, District 12 not having changed at all where everything in Haymitch’s life had been turned upside down, he let the Peacekeepers handle her body while he forced a smile onto his face, waving at the people cheering for him while they should have been mourning Maysilee instead.
Darkness had fallen already by the time he was escorted back to the Victor’s village to take residence in his newly earned house, where his parents and little brother were already waiting for him. It wasn’t where he wanted to be and as soon as they stopped fussing, he found his way to the small graveyard near the fence. They hadn’t even given him the chance to attend the funeral, which worsened his mood. Luckily, he had found several bottles of whiskey from his father in the house and he drank from it eagerly, to bury the rage, the grief –the helplessness.
Pressing his back against the stone her name was graved into, along with the dates of her birth and demise, he heaved an audible sigh. “I shouldn’t have let you go.” Haymitch didn’t say anything else as he pulled a little bag from his jacket pocket, one of those his mother used for her garden and athough he couldn’t tell what flower seeds they were, he still planted them all around her grave. It was only weeks later that he would recognize them as white pianeses.
Only when there was nothing left for him to plant, did he look up and put his hand on top of the stone. “I should never have left you there for the careers to find.” It was all his fault. Taking another deep swig from the bottle, he managed a smile that was completely heartbroken rather than an expression of glee. “I’d been trying to survive, but for you, I could have died.” And then Haymitch finished the bottle, the first one he drank for a purpose, with a reason. Maysilee.
dededos
2087
snowghoul
kaledo-art
