mockingjay
#phm#ryland grace#rocky the eridian#project hail mary spoilers





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mockingjay
Might be the greatest Hunger Games edit Iâve ever seen omg
Freshly hijacked Peeta was confused about nights on the train but he must have been just as confused about the not shiny memory of Finnick kissing him in the arena.
I find it hilarious to imagine Peeta having a similar "What are we?" conversation with Finnick.
hijacked peeta being messy as hell was unfortunately the highlight of all three books for me (followed closely by katniss being a hater)
like omg.. âyouâre a real peice of workâ to katniss⊠him joking about stealing annie right in front of finnick and katniss⊠johanna making fun of peeta for talking to himself in public⊠saying he remembered a lot of ânights on the trainâ in front of actually everyone at lunch⊠randomly describing in detail the torture he watched happen when literally nobody asked and then being upset when no one responds⊠pouting on a chair because katniss refused to kill him⊠saying âare you seriousâ to president coin⊠somehow getting along with gale and talking about katniss when sheâs two feet away from themâŠ
and thats just off the top of my head HEâS TOO FUNNY
hyperfixations come and go but i'll never get over peeta mellark
The 52nd Hunger Games
Young haymitch x reader
contains: 18+, the hunger games, blood, violence, angst, death, grief, alcohol (it's Haymitch), bugs, weapons, adult themes, tragedy, love, no use of y/n, slowwwww slowburn, suggestive content, like one spicy moment, mentions of cosmetic surgery, SOTR spoilers, no Lenore Dove, may have cried writing this
A/N: sooo this is almost entirely based on the books, not as much the movies. first-person writing bc that's how the books are.
Prequel
word count: 25k (sorry)
Part I: The Reaping
On the morning of the reaping for the 52nd Hunger Games, I woke up with a chill in my bones that I couldnât shake. In early July, it was uncommon to feel anything other than blistering heat in District 12. It wouldnât have bothered me so much if I didnât already have an awful feeling of dread surrounding this day.
Reaping day always sent a cloud of terror and depression across my districtâ even more than we already lived with daily. Nobody could stomach the idea of sending their loved ones, brothers, sisters, children, off to be killed in the games. I always counted myself lucky that my parents chose not to bring any more children into this world after me. Not that I wouldnât love some company, but I could never watch my brother or sister be taken to die for the Capitolâs entertainment.
It was hard enough watching one of my only friends be practically driven mad after he won the games. I reminded myself to keep my eyes shut when he stumbles up on the stage this year. Thereâs nothing I can do to help him.
I dressed, continuously flattening my dress and trying to ignore the lasting chill in my bones. It was the last year that my name would be placed in the reaping ball. The last year that I would ever have to face the fear of myself being sent to the Hunger Games. I had just turned 18 last month, and couldnât wait for this horrid day to just be over. My name was only in there 7 times, so the odds were certainly in my favor. A girl I went to school with had hers in at least 39 times.
My family ate a small breakfast of eggs and bread from the bakery. It was hard to eat much on a day like today.
By the time we got to the town square, it was almost completely full. I hugged my parents, agreeing to meet at home when this whole thing was over.
The section of 18 year olds was packed full and I imagined that on the screens in the capital we all appeared like cattle. I squeezed in between two girls who I knew from school and gave them a quiet greeting as we all settled into place.
It was only minutes until the mayor began speaking about the significance of the Dark Days, and how the Games help us remember. He introduced Haymitch, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I could hear clumsy footsteps walk across the stage and mumble out some sort of greeting.
For the rest of the introductory speech, I kept my eyes on the floor.
Haymitch used to be one of my closest friends in the world until he went into the Games just two years ago. I still remember it like it was yesterday. Burdock and I couldnât believe he actually had done itâ he had won a Quarter Quell where there were double the tributes! The odds were never in his favor, but he did it. Truly, I had never felt such relief and joy in my life.
A horrible accident happened just before he got home. His house caught fire and he lost his family. Myself and his closest friends tried to help him pick up the pieces, to be there in any way we could, but he refused our help. He pushed us away until he had no one left. My heart shattered, and I was still trying to put it back together. Haymitch always meant the world to me.
The next year, he practically face planted on stage and that was when we learned that his new best friend had become a bottle of white liquor. Burdock and Astrid cried with me that day.
Since then, I only see him occasionally in town, but he doesnât come anywhere near me. Not even close.
My thoughts vanish quickly when I hear a new announcer speaking into our stage microphone. A ridiculous looking woman has taken the place of our old Capitol ladyâ Drusilla. This woman has very large, very purple hair. Her dress appears to be made of some sort of animal skin, and she has heels that click loudly as she walks.
She doesnât say her name, but seems excited to get started with the drawing of the names.
âLadies first,â she announces, crossing the stage with loud clicks in each step until she reaches the large glass reaping ball. She digs her hand around for a few seconds, before removing it and heading back to the microphone. She announces a name so clearly and I swear I black out for a second.
My name has been called.
I hear chatter around me, but I donât understand a single word. I canât think straight, I canât think at all. My name has been called.
Slowly, I exit the cattle heard of the 18-year-olds and head toward the stage. There is nothing else I can do. I glance back to my group and see Burdock and Astrid looking at me desperately.
When I reach the stage, the mayor shakes my hand and the woman with the large purple hair heads to the other reaping ball and calls out a boys name.
âAsh Avett.â
The name doesnât process, nor does Haymitch throwing up behind me. Nothing processes until we enter the Justice Building and have a few moments to say goodbye to our loved ones.
My parents come in, and it seems much more like a goodbye than a good luck. Tears are shed, hugs are exchanged, but I refuse to believe it will be the last time I will see them. Burdock and Astrid come in next. They tell me to listen to Haymitch, to which I laugh.
âHe hasnât had a coherent thought in two years,â I dismiss the idea as outlandish.
Burdock and Astrid exchange a nervous glance, but beg me to try to have him help me. I agree, but have no expectations.
Nobody else comes to say goodbye. I never had many friends in District 12, but it never seemed to bother me too much until now.
We rode in a small car from the Justice Building to the train station, and the only thing on my mind was that if Haymitch could win, then so could I. I had to. For my parents, for myself, for Burdock and Astridâ for Maysilee. I was not going to let Burdock and Astrid lose another friend to these Games. I was not going to let me lose myself to these Games.
The train was a weird sort of transportation. I had never seen so many bright colored plastic furniture pieces in one place. I wondered if theyâd always been that way, or if theyâd changed everything to plastic because Haymitch couldnât stop vomiting on everything.
Ash and I have our own rooms in one car of the train. The rooms are decked out with unique art, bright colors, and weird technology unlike anything Iâd ever seen in 12.
I sit on my bed for maybe an hour, maybe two, thinking of everything I know about the Games. In District 12 we donât always watch. Usually our tributes get killed pretty quickly, and after that nobody wants to watch children killing each other. We all watched Haymitchâs year. If only he were sober enough now to be a reliable source.
There was one other Victor from my District, before I was even alive. People say they died a long time ago. We never learned anything about them. Not even how they won.
The lady with the purple hairâ whom I now know to be Effieâ interrupts my thoughts again with a knock on my door and an invite to dinner. I may as well join them. Maybe at least Effie knows something.
I enter the dining car and find Effie, Ash, and several Capitol servants in the room. Ash is a small boy, maybe 15, and based on the general malnourished look to him, I assume heâs from the Seam.
The moment I sit down several Capitol servants swarm the table, laying out many large plates with more food than Iâve ever seen in my life. Bowls with lamb soup, trays with brightly colored vegetables in unique arrangements, baskets of some type of bread that Iâve never seen before.
My first instinct is to be angry. Iâm angry that the boy in front of me has starved his whole life, and now weâre getting served loads more than we could ever eat in one meal. Iâm angry that Iâve never gotten to eat such a luxurious meal in my life, and now I am eating it on the way to this living nightmare. I am angry that Haymitch isnât eating with us, and that he will likely be no help to me in the arena if he stays this drunk every day.
I force myself to push down these feelings of anger, and load up on food that will hopefully provide me strength in the arena. It doesnât take long for me to receive some disapproving looks from Effie as I eat.
It is nearly the end of the meal when I hear a loud crash from the door behind me. I donât have to turn my head to know whatâs happened.
âWell, look whoâs finally decided to join us!â Effie says in a tone thick with annoyance.
âI was freshening up,â Haymitch argues, and it is clear that some of this âfreshening upâ included having more to drink.
He sits down clumsily in the spot directly across from me, tucks his napkin into his shirt, and begins eating messily. Effie scoffs and stomps out of the room.
Ash speaks up, quietly, âCan I go to bed?â
Haymitch shrugs, wiping sauce off of his face with his napkin. Ash just sits there, staring at him with evident disappointment.
âIâm sure itâs fine,â I speak up, âEffie said she will wake us in the morning when we need to get up.â
He nods, heading quickly out of the dining car and back to the one containing our bedrooms. I sit there for a few minutes, waiting for Haymitch to say, or do anything. He does nothing except continue to eat, only pausing to take sips from his wine glass.
âHaymitch,â I finally say. I am ignored. I sigh, watching him for another moment before repeating it with more insistence this time. âHaymitch!â
He ignores me again, only pausing for a second before taking a long sip of his wine.
âListen Haymitch, I know youâve decided you donât want me in your life anymore, and thatâs fine. But at the very least could you give me something to work with here. I want toâ I need to make it back home.â
Instead of ignoring me again like I expected, he looks up at me and slowly says, âI canât help you.â
âYou can. You won the Games with twice as many tributes. You have to have some sort of advice for me. Anything.â
Before I can take another breath, Haymitch stands from the table, simultaneously spilling his wine and knocking his plate off the table, and shouts at me, âI canât help you! Okay? I canât!â
I take a slow breath, familiar with his bursts of rage from the long months I tried to help him after the accident.
âHaymitch, please.â I say quietly.
He looks around, everywhere in the room but not at me, almost like heâs talking to someone who isnât there, âI knew it! I knew theyâd do it. But whyâ WHY HER?â
Before I can process anything that just happened he is gone from the dining car and back out the door that he came through. I almost go to follow him, but the door locks behind him.
For the first time, I realized how much he truly had lost it. I am completely and utterly alone.
I donât get much sleep that night. The next morning, Effie knocks on my door early and calls me for breakfast. When I get dressed and arrive in the dining car, itâs just Effie and Ash again. No sign of Haymitch. Thereâs another grand meal laid out for us. This time itâs eggs cooked in any way you could imagine. Slabs of breakfast meats, various breads, large bowls of fruit, you name it.
We make small chatter over the meal, and Effie assures us that itâs not our fault that Haymitch isnât a good mentor.
âHe just is that way.â She says shaking her head with disapproval.
Itâs a travel day, so weâre not expected to do much. Ash and I spend the day reviewing footage from the old games. We take notes, and I discover that Ash is extremely perceptive. He picks up on the smallest details about the tributes, and can almost guess their moves before they make them.
We sit on the couch in the dining car staring at the television screen for hours. We discuss strategy, how tributes find food, how they outsmart their competitors, anything that can possibly give us a leg up in the games.
I knew from past games that Districts 1, 2, 3 and even sometimes 4 tend to form alliances and take out the weak tributes first. They call themselves the Careers. What I didnât know, was how ruthless they are. In nearly every single one of the gamesâ they win. They kill mercilessly, they show little fear, they stay strong until the end. I decide that the Careers are the ones I need to be most afraid of.
By the time the sun starts setting, Ash and I have barely moved for the entire day. We managed to watch the highlights to nearly every Hunger Games in history with the exception of two. We couldnât find the 10th. There was no highlight reel, and apparently no recorded footage. We also decided not to watch Haymitchâs games because we were both too familiar with that one already.
When dinner rolled around we were both too tired of talking to make any conversation, so we ate quietly with Effie. Haymitch only made a brief appearance to raid the liquor stash before returning to his room.
âYou should eat!â Effie calls out in a reprimanding voice but is ignored. She shakes her head and scoffs, âI swear, that boy has no manners.â
We arrive in the Capitol early the next morning. There is a large crowd waiting for us, but we have no time to take in all of the new scenery around us because we are quickly ushered to our next location.
I spend the next few hours getting every pore on my skin closely examined and messed with until perfection by my âprep teamâ as Effie calls them. The team is a group of young adults who are the most ridiculous looking people Iâve ever seen. They all have the most ridiculous colored hair, eyes, and nails. One of them has teeth so white that I have to squint every time I look at her as to not be blinded. Another has such an abnormal face that it unsettles me. The lips are large, the skin is pulled tight across the face, almost like itâs swollen from an allergic reaction.
I guess eventually they believe that I look satisfactory, because they all nod and smile before leaving the room. Effie comes in shortly after, handing me a robe and bringing me to a different room.
The room is filled with bright colored plastic furniture, similar to the train. Ash is sitting in a similar robe across the room, and Haymitch is passed out on a couch. I canât help but roll my eyes. When Iâm sitting Effie begins to speak.
âNow, usually you would have a stylist, but, due to some issues with the prior stylist you will have to rewear some of the costumes from previous yearsâŠâ she frowns, looking between us, âI know itâs not much to be working with but we will try our best to make you both look amazing. Right Haymitch?â
No response.
âHaymitch!â Effie raises her voice. He groans from the couch.
âWhat?â
âThe tribute parade. Styling them,â she announces.
He sits up, rubbing his head and frowning, âThe tribute parade is today?â
She sighs, shaking her head and going to the other side of the room where a large bag sits. I already know whatâs in the bag before she brings it over. District 12 has only ever been dressed in coal miner outfits. I am going to be dressed as a coal miner in front of all of Panem. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Ashâs shoulders drop in disappointment.
We dress in the ridiculous overalls and hats before returning to the main room. I feel humiliated. Effie kisses her teeth and Haymitch sits up, looking more sober now, and shakes his head.
âAgain?â Haymitch asks.
âWe couldnât do any better,â Effie replies.
Ashâs overalls hang a little bit too loose so Effie takes him into the other room to quickly try to pin it for him. Haymitch lays back down on the couch and I stand still across the room.
âYou know you can come sit,â he says, gesturing to the spot next to him.
I huff, suddenly realizing just how angry I am at him. For shutting me out, for becoming a drunk, and most of allâ for not even being able to get it together when I need him most.
I shake my head, keeping my voice even as I say, âI donât want to sit next to you.â
He sighs, âWell at least sit somewhere. I want to talk to you.â
My anger doesnât go away, but I sit anyways because if he has even one piece of good advice to give me, Iâm not going to take it for granted.
He sighs, his hands running down his face and I notice how his fingers shake. I wonder how long thatâs been going on. I can tell heâs still a little bit under the influence, but he looks me right in the eyes.
âWhen you get on the chariotâŠâ he starts, pausing for a moment.
âYes?â I ask, urging him to continue.
He shakes his head, âHold on tight. I donât want to have to meet your doppelgĂ€nger tomorrow.â
My immediate reaction is that heâs had too much to drink and is now spewing incoherent garbage, but the way that he looks at me with such a serious look in his eyes leads me to believe that his words do have meaning.
âWhat do you mean?â I ask, hoping he can explain.
He shakes his head, looking away now, âJust hold on tight, okay?â
I nod, still unsure what his words meant but agreeing to his request.
The evening goes by quickly. We go upstairs to a larger room where there is a line of horse drawn chariots waiting for us. The rest of the tributes are mostly mounted on theirs already, paying no attention to us. The tributes from District 1 only briefly size us up when Haymitch enters the room.
The parade is over before we know it. Haymitch was right, we did need to hold on tight. The crowd hardly reacted when they saw us, which lessened any nonexistent confidence that we already had.
After the parade, Effie escorted us to the building that they call the Tribute Center. It is a gigantic building with 12 floors, each floor for each district. Weâre on the 12th floor, of course.
Our room is large and spacious. Itâs larger than even the biggest house in District 12, and filled with fancy furniture and television screens. We all have our own rooms, with showers, huge beds, and voice controlled remotes that make food appear any time weâd like. Itâs absurd.
Ash and I spend some time in the living room and he recounts all of his observations about the other tributes from tonight. Districts 1 and 2 are overly cocky, but not as strong as they think. District 3âs male tribute has a limp. District 6âs female tribute is skittish and jumps every time someone speaks to her. District 8âs tributes are strong. District 10âs male tribute has a large scar on his right arm, and District 11âs tributes are both small with little muscle.
It is a great advantage to be so close to someone who notices these things, but all I can think of is how dreadful it will be if one of us has to do the unthinkable in the arena.
Ash goes to bed shortly after we finish talking, but I stay in the living room. I need time to reflect on the past few days.
I donât get that time however, because as soon as I start to think about how my parents, Burdock, and Astrid might be feeling, Haymitch hobbles into the living room.
âWell, well, look whoâs still up!â He says louder than he should.
I say, âDrink some water, Haymitch.â
Surprisingly, he goes to the kitchen, fills up a glass of waterâ and a glass of some clear liquor of courseâ and comes to sit next to me on the living room couch. I just start to get up to leave when he lightly grabs my wrist to stop me.
âHey, just wait a second,â he says, taking a sip of water then placing both glasses on the coffee table.
I sit back down, staring at him, waiting for him to say something. He takes a breath, opening his mouth to say something, but says nothing.
I consider leaving and going back to my room, but then I glance at his glasses on the table. It is hard to tell which is which, but the liquor has a slight yellow tint to it that is almost imperceptible unless you look closely.
Iâd never tried alcohol before. There was really no need to drink for most people in District 12. Iâd seen some of the coal miners grabbing some after work, or even the occasional peacekeeper, but the average person doesnât drink. Feeling the after affects of liquor isnât something most of us can afford, nor is the recklessness that the alcohol brings.
When Burdock and I first discovered the extent of Haymitchâs indulgence, we couldnât figure out why. After some time, Burdock started saying it was to ânumb the pain heâs been throughâ. I always disagreed, saying if he really wanted to numb the pain that he would let us help him.
Now, I wonder if Burdock was right. The glass stares back at me, and Iâm tempted to see if it really will help me with all of the horrible feelings that Iâve had since my name was called at the Reaping.
In the heavy cloud of silence that sits over us, I decide to reach out and try it. What harm could come now? I might as well try it once in my life. Who knows if Iâll ever have another chance.
I reach out, taking the glass in my hand and bringing it to my lips. Before it reaches, itâs hastily grabbed out of my grip and taken away.
âWhat are you doing?!â Haymitch asks harshly, a distraught look covering his features.
I shrug, shaking my head, âIt helps, doesnât it? To numb the pain?â
His mouth falls open a bit before closing again. He stares at me for a moment, scanning my face. He closes his eyes in resignation and sets the glass back on the table.
âDonât do that.â He says, shaking his head, âDonât.â
I frown, âWhy not? You do it all the time.â
He frowns back at me, âThatâs different.â
I roll my eyes at him, getting ready to return to my room for the night. This might be the longest conversation Iâve had with him since he changed. I was beginning to realize that I will never again have my friend back. My Haymitch was really and truly gone.
âWait,â he says, although from the look on his face he isnât even sure why he said it.
âWhy, Haymitch?â I ask, feeling all of my emotions starting to rise to the surface, âSo you can continue pushing me away? So I can suffer a little more before Iâm sent to die?â
Neither of us say anything so I stand up to leave and say, âNo thanks, Iâm going to bed.â
âWait,â he says more surely this time, his eyes pleading in a way that doesnât completely carry in his voice.
âYou donât get it,â he says, shaking his head and looking away from me.
âThen explain it to me,â I say, tears brimming my eyes now.
He looks around, frowning, before grabbing his glass of liquor and standing up with me.
âCome with me,â he says.
âWhat? No Iâmââ
âJust come,â he says and grabs my wrist, pulling me behind him as he walks toward the elevator.
I follow him, but have no idea where heâs taking me. We get in the elevator and he pushes a button labeled âRâ. When the elevator doors close, he lets go of my wrist and runs a hand across his face. I instantly shiver when he lets go, not realizing how comforting it was to have him close to me again.
Seconds later, the elevator doors open to what appears to be the roof. He walks out and around to the edge of the rooftop, and I stumble as a gust of wind hits me. Was this his plan? To let me get blown off of the roof before I even make it to the arena?
We stand at the very edge and I canât hear anything other than the strong wind in our ears. He looks around, a few times, before he finally turns to me.
Words come out of his mouth, but I donât hear them.
âWhat?â I ask.
He steps closer, speaking louder, âYouâre not going to make it out of the arena.â
The words startle me. Immediately, my chest clenches and I feel defensive. Does he doubt me so much that he truly thinks I have no chance to survive this?
âWhat the fââ I begin.
âThey wonât let you,â he cuts me off, shaking his head.
My anger is replaced by confusion. Who is they? The Gamemakers? The other tributes?
âWhat are you talking about?â I ask, crossing my arms protectively over my chest.
He shakes his head, looking over the edge and down into the city. Even at this hour, there are cars and people scattered throughout the streets. Lights are on everywhere. Itâs an odd sight to see. Back home, everyone would be in bed hours ago.
âYou donât know?â He asks, and I look up into his sad eyes, even more confused than before.
âKnow what?â I ask, âDo you really think I have no chance at winning?â
He looks down again, shaking his head. âItâs not about winning.â
I sigh, feeling exasperated, âThen what is it about, Haymitch?â
He looks at me again, his frown cutting deep lines into his face in the dark of the night, âThey wonât let anyone that I love survive.â
I step back, trying to understand what heâs just said. Who is he talking about? He steps toward me again, speaking before I get a chance to think any more.
âThe fire. Remember? You think that was an accident?â
âHaymitch,â I whisper, knowing he wonât even be able to hear me over the wind.
He points somewhere in the distance of the city and his voice gets louder, âThey did that. They want me to suffer. It was over for you the moment your name got picked.â
I shake my head, tears starting to run down my face but immediately drying with the wind blowing in my face, âHaymitch, I donât understand.â
âIf I help you, youâll die. Theyâll make sure of it,â he says, his voice cracking, âThe best chance you have at surviving in there is staying away from me.â
I step back again, trying to put the pieces together in my head. By they does he mean the Capitol? Could they have been responsible for the death of his family? My heart sinks as I process.
âIs that whyâŠâ I trail off, sniffling before continuing, âIs that why you pushed us all away? Me? Burdock? Astrid?â
He turns away and takes a long gulp, and I know the answer. But how? How could the Capitol do all of that? All of us in District 12 know that the house fire was an accident. Wasnât it? And how would the Capitol know who he loves at home? Theyâre so far awayâŠ
Then it hits me. Heâs telling me all of this on the roof where I can barely hear him. Heâs avoided us for two years. Heâs barely even spoken to me since I was reaped.
They must be watching him.
The only way that he thinks I will be protected is staying away from me.
He finishes the contents in his glass, throwing it across the roof and it shatters.
âHaymitch,â I say, taking a step toward him. He shakes his head, taking a step away.
âPlease,â he says desperately, and in the moonlight I can see that his eyes are red.
âPlease, just stay away from me. Thatâs the only way.â
I shake my head, my throat hurting from the lump in it, âHaymitch.â
He takes on step closer, quickly saying, âWhen you get in the arena, find water. They wonât poison it like in my Games. Itâs too soon. You can run fast, canât you?â
I nod, taking in the information to the best of my ability with tears still running down my face.
âYou can outrun them. I know you can. At least find somewhere to hide until most of the other tributes are dead. Got it?â
I nod again.
âIâm so sorry, sweetheart.â He says desperately, hands twitching like he wants to reach out to be but wonât.
My chest aches with the nickname heâs used. He used to call me that when we were young. Back in early grade school it started, then continued through the time he left for the Games. He hadnât used that name once since then.
âNo,â I say, shaking my head, âIâm sorry, Haymitch. You deserve so much better.â
I donât sleep that night.
The next morning was the first day of training. When I woke up, a black shirt and pants were hanging on my door with the number 12 on them. I quickly got dressed, assuming these were the training clothes provided.
When I arrived at breakfast, I was surprised to see both Effie and Haymitch already sitting there, discussing the plans for the next week. Haymitch looked rough, and I wondered if heâd gotten any sleep last night either.
âWhereâs Ash?â I ask as I sit down.
Effie responds, âHeâs still sleeping. I wasnât going to wake either of you for another thirty minutes.â
I nod, filling my plate and beginning my meal.
âSince youâre here, Haymitch and I were talking about strategy,â Effie says, âDo you have any special skills, dear?â
âI can run,â I say, and my mind flashes to the conversation of last night.
Effie nods, lips pursed, âAnything else?â
I put my fork down, thinking for a minute. Do I have any special skills? I mean Iâve always helped my parents with their business, but they just fix peopleâs clothes, and that doesnât feel like a skill that could help me in the arena. Iâve picked up some herbal medicine practices from watching Astrid overtime, but not enough that Iâd call it a skill. I could climb pretty well. Since I was little Iâve always liked to climb the trees in District 12 so I could see the whole town square in action. Does that count for anything? Itâs certainly not deadly.
âI can climbâŠâ I say, hoping it doesnât sound as pathetic as it feels.
Effie sighs, glancing quickly at Haymitch before returning to me, âWell, weâve got a few days to work on that.â
Before she can say more, Ash exits his room, dressed in an identical outfit to mine, and takes his seat at the table.
The rest of breakfast is filled with small chatter about basic instructions for training, and how we should avoid showing off any skills that might make us a target. Haymitch explained how it would be useful to make some allies, but to avoid the Careers.
An hour later, we are all heading to the training center together. The elevator moves too quickly, bringing us to a floor labeled âTâ, that is deep below ground. When we step off the elevator, there is a short hallway that we walk through before Haymitch and Effie depart.
The training center is like a large gymnasium. There are racks of weights, ropes, and weapons of all shapes and sizes. Along the walls are small stations set up. Each one has one person working who is there to show us how to perform different useful skills that we will use in the arena. Thereâs a knot tying station, a wild plants station, a woodworking station, and many more lining the edges of the room.
Ash and I decide to stick together, making our way through the different stations. We thought about trying our hand at physical training today, but the Careers had already taken over most of the training stations and I could tell that Ash was pretty freaked out by that.
I learn just about every knot I could ever need, how to make a sharp weapon out of a tree branch, and what plants I should absolutely avoid in the arena. When lunch comes around we are taken to another room that looks similar to a school cafeteria. Ash and I sit together, and the tributes from District 6 and 8 join us. At first I think they might want to be allies, but I quickly learn that theyâre more interested in learning about Haymitch. Since he defied the odds by becoming a District 12 Victor, it seems that heâs still pretty popular among the other Districts.
For the rest of the day, Ash and I practice our knife throwing skills. His throwing needs a lot of work, but I catch on quite quickly. I hit the target about eighty percent of the timeâ usually missing the correct pointsâ but I manage to hit an arm here, a leg there, and one time I even hit it right in the neck.
We are eventually let go from training and told to return to our rooms. On the way to the elevator, I get shoved by the boy from District 3. He doesnât even look at me, just keeps walking. Instead of fighting back, I take a deep breath and remember to store this knowledge about the District 3 boyâs carelessness in my mind for later. His cockiness is likely a weakness.
When we return to our floor, Haymitch is passed out on the couch with vomit staining his shirt. My heart aches. Effie is nowhere to be found. Probably got tired of dealing with him.
âHow did this guy ever win the Games?â Ash said with underlying disgust in his tone.
I sigh, shaking my head. âHe didnât used to be this way.â
We both frown at the sight before us for a full minute before I sighâremembering that I have to stay away from himâ but I canât just leave him there. Heâll be no help to Ash in his current condition. I felt a twist in my gut as I got a wave of Deja vu.
After he moved to the Victorâs Village, Burdock and I tried countless times to help him. We did everything we could. Eventually we realized he didnât care what we did, he didnât even want to have us around.
It was a year later the next time I was back there. Iâd heard from my neighbor that Haymitch was wandering around town looking even more ridiculously drunk than normal. My parents came home that day with a sad look in their eyes, and I decided that even if he didnât want me around, I wasnât going to leave him to keep doing this to himself.
I headed into the square, finding him slumped next to the Bakery, covered in his own vomit. With a lot of coaxing, I finally got him to stand and walk back to his house in the Victorâs Village with me. No words were exchanged on the walk. No words were exchanged when I spent the next half hour washing his face and shirt. Not even when I made him go to bed and drink a large glass of water. I swore at one point I watched a tear roll down his cheek, but I pushed the memory away for my own sake.
Now, a year later, staring at him, I wonder if he will ever be the way he used to. My Haymitch. Unfortunately, thereâs no time to think that way.
I sigh, and against my better judgment I say to Ash, âIâll go clean him up. See you at dinner?â
Ash looked perplexed for a moment, but still nodded and headed to his room.
It wasnât difficult to wake Haymitch, but it was difficult to get him to agree to go take a shower. With my help, he eventually stumbled to his room. I sat on his bed and laid out some clean clothes for him as he cleaned himself up. I should have left and gone back to my room, but I realized that if this truly is my last few daysâ as he saysâI wanted to spend as much time as I possibly could with the boy who once meant the world to me. Even he isnât that boy anymore. I couldnât die in the arena knowing that I didnât try to help, even just one last time.
I turn to face the door when he finally exits the bathroom and dresses. Eventually, he takes a seat a few feet away from me and takes a deep breath. I turn to face him.
âYou sober yet?â I ask, scanning his face. His eyes are red, and I can tell just by his pupils that he still has some alcohol in his system.
He shakes his head.
âHaymitch,â I say, unsure of what else to say.
âYou shouldnât be here,â he says quietly.
I nod, âI know. But I couldnât leave you there like that.â
The look in his eyes destroys me.
I take a deep breath, standing from my place on his bed, âI canât die in a few days without being there for you. I just canât.â
I donât wait for his response. Instead, I make my way back to my room, shutting the door and letting myself cry for the last time. If I want to even have a chance at winning, I need to be strong. And I need to stay away from Haymitch from now on.
It doesnât take long to regain my composure, and shortly after I wipe the last tear I am called to dinner. Haymitch never shows.
The next two days are tedious. Ash and I have gone through every single station in training. I have gotten better at knife throwingâ hitting lethal points at least sixty percent of the time. I hit the target somewhere on the body almost every time. Iâve also learned that I can be quick enough to escape from most of the official Capitol trainers who Iâve been sparring with.
Ash has had decent luck too. Heâs gotten quite good with a sword, and can anticipate the moves of his opponent easily. He is extremely perceptive.
After three full days of eating well, training, and learning new skills, Iâm feeling significantly more confident that I can win this. The Careers are still a major threat, but if I can get away fast enough, I can just wait for them to take each other out.
We havenât made any allies. Nobody has been interested in partnering with us unless they get a shot at getting advice from Haymitch, who of course hasnât been around much at all. Heâs been slightly more coherent the past few daysâ seemingly not drinking to the point of being incapacitated. And yet, every time I walk into a room he finds his way out of it.
Tomorrow we have a full day of preparing for our interviews, then the next day is the Games. The interviews are done on a stage outside of the Tribute Center by a man named Caesar Flickerman. Caesar is a ridiculous looking man with hair that changes colors for each Games. This year I think itâs a pale yellow. Ugly. But from what Iâve heard, he is very charismatic and helps the tributes out. Which I will need.
At dinner, Haymitch and Effie discuss with us the possible angles we can go with. Every tribute apparently has an angle to make them likeable. Some choose strength, some smarts, some beauty, some even choose humor.
Ash decides he wants to show his smarts, with a bit of humor. Effie and Haymitch nod, agreeing that they can work with that.
âAnd you?â Effie asks me while Iâm halfway through munching on a chicken leg.
I shrug, setting the leg down on my plate, âI donât really know.â
Effie says, âIâm sure we can put something together. Youâre such a lovely girl.â
I almost blush, grateful to receive a compliment from someone who is so hesitant to give them out, until she adds: âFor a girl from the Districts.â
Haymitch looks at me for a moment, as if doing a difficult calculation in his head. Eventually a small smile tugs on his face and he says, âWhy donât you just be the sweetheart from District 12? Show them how nice you are, theyâll love you.â
Effie rolls her eyes, and Iâm sure heâs joking.
âYeah, right,â I say, âI donât think thatâll sway the people of the Capitol.â
âWell, have you got anything else?â Haymitch asks but doesnât wait for me to respond, âWeâll work on it tomorrow.â
No more discussion happens that night. The next morning Effie wakes us up early to spend the first half of the day working on manners. Apparently my manners arenât even half as good as I thought they were. Effie teaches me how to sit properly, how to laugh like a lady, and worst of all she teaches me how to walk in heels.
Ash nails it all right away, but he doesnât have to walk in heels. He laughs at me as I stumble for the fifteenth time.
The early afternoon is spent with Haymitch as we figure out what angle we want to take. For two complete hours, Haymitch is entirely focused on Ash. He doesnât even glance at me once. I know why heâs keeping his distance. Still, that doesnât stop the annoyance from raising within me when I think about just how unprepared I am for tonight.
After Ash nails his intelligent-yet-witty routine, the attention is on me. Haymitch practices asking me questions like âHow has training gone for you?â and âAnyone special waiting back at home?â
My responses must not impress him because he sighs and takes a drink out of a flask he has been keeping in his coat pocket. By the end of the session I am so exhausted from having to put on a show, and so on edge because in less than 24 hours I will be in the arena.
When our prep teams arrive, Haymitch takes a long drink and leaves the room. I am fussed over for nearly two hours before they deem my hair and makeup to be satisfactory for tonight. My makeup is simple, yet they have perfectly managed to accentuate every feature that should be accentuated.
âThank you,â I tell them.
Effie steps into our room shortly after, with two large bags in hand. She hands me one, and hands one to Ash.
âClothes for tonight,â she says, âI thought since neither of you have a stylist you would need something to make you stand out.â
âThank you, Effie,â Ash says and goes to his room to change.
I open my bag, revealing a stunning orange dress unlike anything Iâve ever seen. It is a soft, shiny material that reflected light in every direction. The waist is cinched in a way that I imagine to be incredibly flattering, and the long skirt is draped in such a unique way that it almost looks like water falling. I quickly went to my room to change as well.
When I return to the living room, Ash is standing with Effie and Haymitch in a suit with the same beautiful orange color that I am wearing. They all look up and Effie is the first to speak.
âItâs stunning! I knew I had a good eye,â she says.
âYou look great,â Ash says, smiling at me.
âYou too,â I say.
Haymitch is silent and doesnât look at me for longer than a few seconds. I let myself wonder if he thinks I look pretty.
We all head downstairs to where the stage is supposed to be set up. When we arrive, Effie departs for her seat but Haymitch escorts us until we are backstage. All of the other tributes are there looking absolutely amazing.
Haymitch nods at us, âRemember what we went over.â
We both nod before he departs and goes to find his seat as well. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves before we have to walk out on stage. I hear Caesar Flickermanâs voice introducing the 52nd Annual Hunger Games and the anthem starts to play.
Ash reaches out and squeezes my hand gently before we walk out on stage together. All of the tributes sit at different parts of the stage, and take turns being interviewed by Caesar. Each interview is about three minutes long, so I know by the time they get to me that the audience will be bored out of their minds.
Ash pays close attention as each tribute is interviewed. I find myself staring through the crowds of the audience. So many strange colors, some of the people donât even look quite human. I know they are of course, itâs just so different. I donât know why anyone would ever want to change their appearance so much. Things work so differently in the Capitol.
I get called up while I am staring straight at a woman who has leopard print skin, and I make my way across the stage to the seat across from Caesar.
âWelcome, welcome,â he says, âAre you ready for tomorrow?â
I shrug, âReady as Iâll ever be.â
Caesar smiles at the audience and exclaims, âAhhh! I love that! Love the confidence in this one. And how has your mentor been?â He asks, looking at the audience knowingly.
Of course, Haymitch is known well by the Capitol now. Theyâre all well aware of his tendencies.
I smile nervously, âHeâs been fine.â
Caesar pauses, waiting for me to continue. When I donât, he says, âJust fine? Do tell.â
I sigh, feeling the need to defend him. If what he says is true, the Capitol has been horrible to him. Iâm angry at them for him.
âHeâs doing the best he can,â I say, forcing a smile.
Caesar laughs, âAhhh, Iâm sure he is. Did you two know each other before you were chosen for the Games this year? Back in District 12?â
I pause. If I answer honestly, they will have even more of a reason to kill me. If Haymitch were here, he would tell me to lie. So that is what I do. âNo,â I say, âWe didnât know each other.â
Caesar nods, leaning toward me and getting more serious, âYou didnât know each other?â He pauses, leaning closer like he was going to tell me a secret, âAnd yet he threw up on stage when your name was called?â
I completely blanked for a moment. I had forgotten that that even happened. I shook my head, thinking of the right words to say.
âHeâs always throwing up,â I say, forcing another smile as if itâs some sort of joke.
Caesar laughs toward the audience, âClassic Haymitch. Well it is a shame to see you go, but may the odds be in your favor.â
Before I know it, Iâm sent back to my seat. I donât even pay attention during Ashâs interview because Iâm so caught up in his wording. A shame to see me go? Does he know something? If what Haymitch said was true, does that mean that the Capitol is already planning to kill me in the arena? Or does he just have such little faith in my ability to win?
When we return to our room for the night, Haymitch and Effie congratulate us on our successful interviews.
âI thought you two did know each other before,â Effie says to myself and Haymitch.
âNot really,â I say, not explaining myself further. Haymitch is still refusing to look at me.
Effie nods, and the look on her face seems that she doesnât believe me. She must ignore it, because she looks between Ash and I, smiling gently, âI guess this is goodbye. I will be rooting for you both.â
We take turns giving her hugs and saying goodbye. When she reaches the elevator she says, âMay the odds be ever in your favor.â
âThank you, Effie,â Ash says, and sheâs gone.
We both turn to Haymitch, âWill we see you in the morning?â I ask.
He shakes his head, âYour prep team will collect you in the morning and take you to whatever transportation they have arranged. Then youâll be off to the arena.â
We both nodded, knowing this is it. My heart tugs, and I have so much that I want to say. This might be the last time I will ever see Haymitch, and I donât know how to handle it. I donât know if I should say anything at all.
Ash shakes Haymitchâs hand and thanks him for his help, and soon he is off to his room. I stand still for a moment, unsure of what to do. Before I can figure it out, he pulls me into his arms. His hands wrap tightly around me, one around my waist and one on the back of my head. I instantly reciprocate, wrapping my arms tightly around his back. We stand like that for nearly a minuteâ his face tucked into my neck, holding so tightly that I almost push him away for a breath. But I donât.
He loosens his grip but doesnât pull away. He gets close to my ear and says so quietly I can hardly hear, âStay alive.â
I nod, still holding him tightly. I take a shaky breath in and out, willing myself not to cry.
âSee you on the other side?â I ask quietly.
He doesnât respond. He pulls me tightly against him one last time and when he pulls away he is already headed for his room. I can feel the tears running down my face, but quickly wipe them and head to my room as well. I canât get upset now. I have to stay alive.
Part II: The Games
After a sleepless night, my prep team wakes me up before the sun. They make last minute touch ups to my eyebrows and hair, before giving me clothes to change into. Itâs a light, airy material that is completely black except for a small number 12 in silver on the sleeve. The pants are the same material, only slightly thicker.
Surprisingly, my prep team takes me up to the rooftop after Iâm done. My mind flashes back to the last time I was up here. Soon, a jet comes near the roof and lets a ladder down. I am told to grab onto the ladder, but as soon as I do I am paralyzed. I canât move a muscle until Iâm completely inside of the jet. Once Iâm inside, they place a tracker in my arm.
The ride is short, and when we arrive I am brought to a small room with a tube in it. I assume that the tube is what will take me into the Games.
I stand there for a few minutes, breathing deeply, before I realize that I am shaking. Every muscle in my body feels like it is contracting and un contracting over and over again. I canât enter the games like this, but it wonât stop no matter how many deep breaths I take.
I think of home. I think of my parents who will be watching me, I think of Burdock and Astrid⊠I think of Haymitch. The shaking stops. I can do this, and I will. I have to win. For them. For Maysilee. For Haymitch.
A peacekeeper enters my room, making me jump. I am told to enter the tube, and I listen. Within a minute, the tube closes, and I am rising up like Iâm in an elevator that takes me above ground.
Suddenly, Iâm in the arena.
I look around me, trying to gain awareness of my surroundings as fast as I can. Below me is a raised metal plate, and I see that all of the tributes are on one. Ash is just a few plates away from me.
The ground in front of me is some sort of small rocks⊠gravel? There are small puddles and ponds in the gravel, but that water does not look drinkable. Directly in front of me is the large, golden horn that they call the Cornucopia. It holds the most dangerous weapons, and the best supplies. Haymitch told us to avoid going straight there.
To my left, thereâs a field of dirt with large piles rising and falling as far as I can see. To my right, thereâs is a corn field that seems to be endless as well. Behind me is a small patch of woods, but I canât tell if theyâre thickâ or deep enoughâ to hide in. That might still be my best bet.
Before Iâm ready, a clock begins counting down in front of me. 30, 29, 28âŠ
I look around, deciding where will be the safest for me to go. I spot a small green backpack just 10 feet in front of me. Would it be too dangerous to grab? Have my opponents already spotted it?
15,14,13âŠ
I take in my surroundings one last time before deciding. The best bet for my survival is to grab the green backpack and take off in the woods as quickly as I can. With my speed, I can surely outrun any attacks. Plus, most of the violence will be near the cornucopia.
5,4,3,2,1.
I take off as fast as I can, straight to the backpack. I donât look to see if anyone is already fighting. I turn and I run to the woods as quickly as I can. I run and run until I can hardly breathe, and even then I donât stop.
Only once Iâve finally gotten far enough away that I canât hear, nor see any other tribute, I stop to assess my situation. The trees arenât nearly as dense as I need them to be. Someone could see me from 200 yards away if they stood in the right spot. Theyâre also dry and thin with hardly any branches until the very top. Not trees to be climbed.
I find a big one and sit down against it, at least then my back will be covered while I examine the backpack Iâve taken. Itâs a very small bag. Inside, I find a water bottle, luckily filled with water, a pack of crackers, a flashlight, a thin rope, and a knife. The knife isnât as sharp as the ones we trained with, but it should at least provide me some defense.
I try to recall what Haymitch told us about basic survival. Find water, donât let yourself starve, find shelter, and stay alive. Heâd told me specifically to try to find somewhere to hide. Got the water, the crackers should at least last me today, but Iâll have to find some sort of shelter. I decide to continue walking through the woods to see if I stumble upon anything.
I lost count of how many cannons Iâd heard over the next few hours, preoccupied with finding shelter. There had been at least five since I began searching, but any that went off right at the beginning were lost in the adrenaline rush.
As I got deeper into the woods, Iâd found some large rocks that I considered hiding behind at least to keep my back covered. Ultimately, I continued walking in hopes of a real shelter.
Just when it started to get dark, I came across a water fall. Iâd only taken sips from my water bottle all day, but I figured this would be a good place to stop and drink. Maybe there would be some fish in the pool at the bottom.
The waterfall was maybe 12 feet high, and the stream was strong. Water was rushing over the edge, crashing down below. There were large rocks around it, like the ones Iâd seen earlier. They were dark with thick moss growing on them.
I finished the rest of my water bottle, trying to stay relatively hydrated before filling up again. I crossed some smaller rocks that were covered in moss. I walked carefully, knowing how slippery moss can be when itâs wet.
I reached out to press my hand on the rock behind the waterfall so I could support myself when I refilled my bottle, but found no purchase. Instead, I found myself falling directly into the waterfall and onto damp ground.
Mud was streaked across my face and I reached up to wipe it off when I realized how dark it was. I looked around and realized what had happened. Above me and all around me was solid rock. I hadnât just fallen onto the ground, but Iâd fallen through the waterfall into a small cave of sorts.
Iâd done it! Iâd found shelter.
I smiled to myself. The cave provided perfect shelter against the sun, and I had a continuous source of water. The water also was strong enough that it was difficult to see through. Maybe I would eventually have to relocate, but for now, I was safe.
I stayed in the cave, eating small bits of a couple crackers and sipping on water until I heard the anthem playing. I couldnât see through the waterfall, so Iâd have to peak my head out if I wanted to see how many tributes were left.
The faces of the dead tributes started flashing in the sky, one by one. Both from District 2, the girl from 3, both from 5, the boy from 7, both from 8 and 9, the boy from 10 and the girl from 11. The cocky boy from 3 was still alive. I let out a breath of relief that I didnât know I was holding when I realized that Ash was still alive.
12 down, 11 to go.
I allowed myself to think optimistically and hope that they would all take themselves out without me having to kill anyone. I knew it was unlikely, but I needed some hope.
That night when I drifted off, I found myself mourning for the lost tributes. I didnât even know most of them. Iâd only spoken to some of them a few times, but they were all just kids. I wondered if they had families at home. Siblings who were crying themselves to sleep tonight. Friends who would never be the same after today.
I didnât sleep for long. The cave floor was uncomfortable to sleep on, and at one point I heard footsteps just outside. I wasnât sure if it was another tribute, or some sort of animal, but I wasnât going to let myself sleep when any threat was around.
The next morning, I allowed myself to eat some more crackers. Hiding in the cave might protect me against the other tributes, but it would not protect me from starvation.
I decided to see if I could find any fish in the bottom of the waterfall. After waiting and listening for nearly thirty minutes to determine that I didnât hear a single footstep, I headed out of the cave and walked around the edges of the pool. I saw some creatures, but I didnât recognize them, and there were no fish.
It had just occurred to me that there might be some edible plants around when I saw a small lizard crawling near my feet. It was green with a blue head, and a striped tail. I knew from school that these were edible, and on occasion we would even find them wandering around in District 12. In order to eat it however, I would need to kill it first and then cook it.
I jumped through the waterfall quickly, grabbing my knife from my backpack before it could get away. I had just gotten back outside when I saw the lizard scampering away. I chased after it for a few steps before lunging at it.
Before my knife could impale the creature, it turned around quickly and spat some sort of yellow liquid at me. It missed most of me, but it did get on my right hand.
My first thought was that maybe I was chasing the wrong type of lizard, because that kind doesnât spit. Then the yellow liquid began to burn. That was when I realized that the lizard was a mutt.
We call them mutts, but theyâre actually Capitol engineered animals with genetic mutations that make them deadly.
My entire arm began to feel like it was on fire. I raced back to the waterfall and washed it away as quickly as I could, but the burning didnât stop. I rushed back into the cave, out of site of any other predators.
The burning steadily spread up my arm and into my shoulder. It wasnât a regular burning, but felt more like my skin was being lit on fire over and over again. The skin on my hand began to blister and turn purple.
Before I could think of what to do next, I fainted.
I wasnât sure how long it had been, maybe a few hours, maybe a few days, but when I woke up it was nearly dark outside. My arm burned, but it felt more feverish than on fire. I looked at my hand and saw that there was a large blister surrounded by purple veins. Iâd never seen anything like it, nor did I know how to treat it.
Until the sun set, I did nothing but sit in my cave and try to get my strength up a little bit. I snacked on some crackers and drank some water, washing off my blister again. As soon as water impacted it, it throbbed and felt like it was on fire again.
When the anthem eventually played, I stuck my head outâ careful to keep my hand insideâ to see how many more tributes died today. The boy from 6, the girl from 7, and the boy from 11.
8 left.
I wondered what was happening out there. Both tributes from District 1 were alive. Were they hunting people down? Was everyone still near the Cornucopia? Was anyone else attacked by a mutt?
Before I could stick my head back in my cave, a small silver box attached to a parachute floated straight down in front of me. Haymitch.
I grabbed it and snuck back into the cave as quickly as I could. Inside the box was a small bottle. It was some sort of liquid that Iâd never seen before.
For the burn- H
Without thinking any more, I opened the bottle and drank it. It only occurred to me after that the liquid might have been to clean my throbbing blister, but it was too late now.
I laid down, and felt the pain slowly start to subside. The blister was still as large, and the purple veins werenât seeming to go away.
As I got as comfortable as I could on some rocks with a giant blister on my hand, I began to wonder what Haymitchâs strategy was. He told me he wanted us to stay away from each other, then he gets me a sponsor gift as soon as I need it. What kind of message could that be sending to the Capitol?
The next day is uneventful. I donât hear the cannon once. I spent the entire day in my cave, trying to figure out what my next move should be. The pain has mostly gone away from my hand, but thereâs still a large area of raw skin, and the purple veins have now extended to my fingers. I finished off my crackers, and my stomach was starting to cry out for food. There were no fish, and I wasnât taking my chances with an animal again. If I wanted food, I would have to make my way back to the Cornucopia or try to find some sort of edible plants.
When the anthem plays that night, no faces are shown in the sky. I guess the chaos has gone down from the first two days.
The next morning, I wake before the sun is up to the gnawing in my stomach. I have to find food, and I have to find it soon. If I can make my way back to the Cornucopia, even if anyone sees me, I should be fast enough to grab food and run away before they can catch me.
With that general plan in mind, I begin my trek back toward the center of the arena and away from my safety in my cave.
It has been at least two hours before I take a break. My legs are beginning to shake, my stomach gnawing more intensely as the day progresses. I havenât had to deal with the sun since Iâve been in my cave, but now with the sun beating on me and such little food in my system, Iâm starting to feel dizzy.
I try to continue in my general direction for a few minutes before I have to take a break. I sit down with my back against a tree, taking small sips of water. My vision starts to blur, and I can feel my limbs getting weak.
A cannon goes off and it startles me enough that I decide to continue walking, at least until I find some sort of plant to eat. Unfortunately, most of the ground in the woods is dry and bare. Itâs another thirty minutes before I find a small green bush with red berries. I remember seeing these berries at the plants station during training, and Iâm almost completely positive that theyâre edible.
I collect as many as I can, eating a handful and putting the rest in my backpack for later. Theyâll probably get crushed, but itâs better than having no food at all. The berries hardly satisfy my hunger. As soon as they hit my stomach, I can tell that Iâll need a lot more than that to keep going.
Another cannon has sounded by the time I finally reach the Cornucopia. I stay about fifty feet back, hiding behind a thicker tree and try to visually scout out the area before I make my move. I wait about an hour, continuously monitoring for any noise, but I donât hear anything other than the leaves rustling in the trees. Itâs certain that Iâd hear at least some footsteps if anyone were around. Being from District 12, Iâve learned that gravel is never silent. There isnât a tribute in sight.
Finally, I take off toward the Cornucopia at full speed. Iâm a little bit dizzy and breathless when I reach the opening, but to my luck, there are still weapons and supplies waiting for me. I canât believe that my fellow tributes would leave all of this here.
I take another backpack, not allowing myself the time to sort through it yet. I throw it over my shoulder and grab the last knife before taking off in the way I came. I make it about halfway through the gravel stretch when I feel a forceful pain in my calf. I look down, and a small knife has made its way through my pants and at least half an inch into my left calf. My sock inside my boot begins to feel wet.
Itâs impossible to sprint now, but I hobble forward to the best of my ability and quickly look around for the cause of my injury. 20 feet away is the boy from District 3. The one who has always been too cocky for his own good. He stands casually, arms crossed over his chest, chin up like this is a normal day for him. I wonder how many deaths have been caused by him.
âWhat? Canât run now?â He says with a smirk that makes my blood boil.
I take a deep breath, ignoring the pain in my calf that is making me feel like Iâm going to faint.
I shrug, trying my best to act casual, like Iâm not afraid of him. Truly, Iâm terrified. Heâs much bigger than I am, and if he chose to advance now I wouldnât be able to outrun him. The knife in my hand feels heavy,
âJust taking in the view,â I say, looking around us at the arena.
He takes a step forward, smirking still, âGood, because itâs the last look youâre going to get.â
He takes another step toward me, and without thinking any more I throw my knife straight at him. With the dizziness and the blood dripping down my ankle, my aim is a little off, but the knife makes impact just below his hip.
The boy bends forward in pain, pulling the knife out. I donât wait any longer before I limp out of the gravel clearing as quickly as I can. Blood is soaking through my shoe now. Just as I reach the sparse woods again, the knife skims past my head, hitting the tree directly to my right. My ear is bleeding. I yank the knife from the tree and donât look back. I donât hear footsteps behind me, so I assume the boy decided not to follow.
I only make it about a hundred yards when I collapse. My vision is going black, and I desperately need to clean my wound. I collapse against a tree and tear open my new backpack in hopes of somethingâ anythingâ that will stop me from bleeding out right now.
Inside the backpack is a sheet of dried beef, a strange fruit that Iâve never seen before, some crackers, a bottle of water, andâ to my luckâ a small first aid kit! I use the bloodied knife that was just in the District 3 boy to cut the fabric around my calf. Then, slowly but carefully, I remove the knife. The feeling alone is nearly enough for me to black out, but I fight it. I wonât die in here. And if I do, it wonât be at the hands of the District 3 boy.
The first aid kit contains two small rolls of gauze, a pain reliever tablet (which I take immediately), a few spare bandages, and a few sheets of an antiseptic wipe wrapped in plastic. I do my best to clean the wound, losing my vision twice. I bite down on the edge of my shirt. Itâs all I can do to keep from screaming.
After the wound is clean, I wrap it in a large bandage and lots of gauze until I think itâs satisfactory. Iâve never known much about caring for wounds, but Iâve watched Astrid do it a few times, and I think I got the basics down.
I donât attempt to move for hours. I eat a few of my berries from earlier, some crackers, and part of the beef strip. It does help my energy some, but the blood loss really wore me down. I tuck my head between my knees and only look up every so often to make sure the District 3 boy didnât come to finish me off. I know heâs still out there, the cannon never went off.
It occurs to me that the safest I could be now is if I return to my cave. Itâs at least two hours of walking, but itâs better than being out in the open and waiting for another person to attack me.
I stand, but when I put weight on my calf I nearly black out again. It takes lots of deep breaths before I regain my balance. Once I do, I lean against my tree and look around for any low hanging branch to help me walk. There are none.
Thereâs nothing I can do but try to make it away from here, so I walkâ very slowly. I donât know if you could even call it a walk, itâs more of an awkward hop with lots of stopping.
I make it about a mile, and it starts to get dark. I begin to lose any hope that I had of returning to my cave for the night. I continue to move forwards anyway.
The events from earlier start to replay in my head. I threw that knife at the boy with the intention to kill. I always frowned on those who were so readily able to take the lives of others, but now that Iâm the one in the arena I didnât even think twice. I suppose itâs different when youâre defending your own life, but that doesnât change the fact that the boy wouldâve been dead if I aimed a bit better.
I was so caught up in my thoughts that I had become mildly unaware of my surroundings and hit my head on a tree branch. Great, a head injury is exactly what I need right now. I shake my head, trying to comb dry branches out of my hairâ wait. A tree branch!
Itâs thick enough that I need to use my knife to cut all the way through it, but itâs the perfect size for a walking stick. I could start moving significantly faster with a walking stick.
With much more exertion than my body could handle, I get the branch down. Itâs not a comfortable walking stick, but it helps take a lot of the pressure off of my wounded calf.
The bleeding stopped about an hour ago, but it still hurt terribly and had bled enough that my body was still weak.
After another hour of trekking through the woods, the anthem begins to play in the sky. One dead today. The girl from District 6. I wonder how she went. I wonder if she tried to defend herself. I wonder if the boy from District 3 killed her.
Iâm still about an hour from my cave, but I decide to keep moving. Thereâs no point in stopping now. Even though my body is screaming for rest, I am in no shape to defend myself if an attacker decides to pursue me. I still have my knife that I got back from the District 3 boy, and the knife that I pulled from my calf, but the odds of me being able to react and aim well enough are low.
I lean on my stick, taking a small break before returning to my limping, and a small silver parachute falls from the sky in front of me. Haymitch is still looking out for me. With the vulnerability of everything thatâs been happening in the arena, I am able to admit to myself that I miss him terribly. All that I want in the world at this moment is to be next to him again. Even the messed up version of himself that heâs become would suffice. Maybe if I make it out of here we couldâŠ
I shake myself out of my thoughts and grab the parachute. I open the small metal box. This time, thereâs a small sheet of paper on top with writing on it.
Aim better next time- H
I allow myself to let out a small laugh, knowing that he will be watching me on the live feed being shown in the Capitol. Underneath the paper is a bottle of pills. Theyâre unmarked, but I assume that theyâre either pain killers or some sort of antibiotic to prevent my wound from getting infected. Infection can kill just as much as a knife can.
Before I begin walking again, I swallow one of the pills with a gulp of water. I donât feel any immediate difference, but about thirty minutes later the pain in my calf has become a dull ache and Iâm able to cover ground much quicker.
I donât know what time it is when I finally reach my cave, but Iâm relieved to have my shelter again. My bandages got wet when I entered, so I take time to clean and rewrap my wound before I fall asleep.
Sleep takes over me as soon as I lay down, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up.
Judging by the sunâs position in the sky, itâs probably about mid day when I wake. I check my wound, which bled a little bit overnight, and snack on some of my dried beef when I figure out my plan for the day. The pain has returned during the night, so I take another pill from the bottle that Haymitch sent me.
I begin debating the pros and cons of leaving the cave today. I need to find a consistent source of food, and it wouldnât be a bad idea to learn a little bit more about my surroundings. Before I can make a decision, I notice a large footprint in the mud next to the cave entrance. One that I wouldâve never made myself, the foot was much too large.
Someone has been here.
It was too dark to see when I arrived last night, but now with the sun shining through the water, itâs clear as day. I start considering if I should leave when I hear footsteps outside.
Okay, so whoever was here must be returning to the cave. If I stay here, I can defend myself with my knives to the best of my ability. If they get close enough, I wonât miss. I grab both quickly, squeezing them in my hands. I just have to hope that whoever it is doesnât have a weapon that can kill me faster than I can throw.
Itâs obviously a male, from the size of the footprint. Theres no way the boy from District 3 has been here. I wouldâve known if he followed me. The boy from 1 wouldnât be here without the girl from 1, and there are no smaller footprints other than my own. That leaves⊠Ash.
Could it be? I stay silent, not wanting to reveal myself either way. If these footsteps do belong to Ash, I still have no idea what heâs been through. For all I know, the games mightâve turned him into a brutal killer. I keep my grip on my knives as the footsteps get closer.
I raise my arm, ready to throw if I need to when the person breaks through the water and enters my cave. It is Ash. He startles at the sight of me, lifting an axe in his hand, ready to attack.
He looks rough. He was already a smaller boy, but now I can see the highlights of his cheek bones. There is dried blood in his hair, and on his shirt. Every time he moves he flinches like heâs in pain.
He falters for a moment, finally focusing on my face.
âAshâŠâ I say, still holding my knife tightly.
He fully lowers his axe, âI never thought Iâd see you again,â he says.
Great, another person who thought Iâd be dead by now.
He quickly follows with, âI donât want to hurt you.â
I lower my knife, âGood, because I donât want to hurt you either.â
Itâs a little bit awkward at first. Itâs almost as if the several days in the arena have stunted our ability to interact with other humans in a normal way. Eventually, he sits beside me and we recount everything weâve been through.
When the Games started, Ash took off in the direction of the dirt piles. Apparently there arenât just piles, but also underground tunnels. He was hiding out there for a while, but eventually needed to come out to get food and water. The Careers were chasing him and he just barely got away when the boy from 7 popped out of one of the holes and killed the girl from 2. The girl and boy from District 1 stayed to attack the boy from 7. I remembered seeing his face in the sky on the first night.
After that, the boy from 2 kept chasing Ash until they got to the Cornucopia, where he was barely able to fight him off with an axe. He didnât go into detail, but the boy from 2 died and Ash got away with a giant gash in his side. He was lucky that he got some supplies to help control the bleeding. After that, heâs been roaming the woods, hoping to avoid running into the pair from District 1 again. Apparently theyâve been hunting people down and are responsible for most of the deaths so far. He came across the cave yesterday and decided to hide out for a while, but went to find food and couldnât find his way back to the cave in the dark.
I recounted my experience with the mutt, and showed him the healing skin on the back of my hand. I hadnât realized, but the purple veins were beginning to make their way up my arm. I also described what happened with the District 3 boy. He frowned deeply when I showed him my leg.
We sat in silence for a bit after that, sharing a few crackers and some chocolate that Ash had gotten in his backpack.
Eventually, Ash says, âSo what now?â
I pause for a moment, not even having to think hard before I say, âWant to be allies?â
A grin covers his face. Probably the first time heâs smiled since we got in the arena. âIâm glad you asked.â
âBut,â I stop him, âOn one condition.â
He looks at me skeptically, waiting for me to continue.
âIf it gets down to just a few of us left,â I say, âWe go our separate ways. I wonât hurt you.â
He nods, extending his hand to shake on it.
We both know the pain that would come with killing someone from your own district. Even if you donât know them very well, you know their family or friends. District 12 isnât all that big. Going home after that would be worse than killing them in the first place. Youâll never be accepted again.
We stay in the cave most of the day. Ash leaves a few times to collect roots and explore the area. Iâm grateful for him, especially now, because with his perceptiveness heâs able to practically memorize every strength and weakness of our surrounding territory. Plus, itâs nice that I donât have to walk on my leg today.
I change the bandages again in the early afternoon. It hasnât bled any more, but it feels hot and the outside is red. I decide to clean it one more time, trying to prevent infection to the best of my ability. Iâm still hopeful that the pills that Haymitch sent might have some sort of antibiotic property.
In the late afternoon, we hear another cannon go off. For the rest of the evening, I make sure that Ash stays in the cave with me.
By the time the sun sets, Ash lays out a mixture of roots and plants for us to snack on. Itâs not enough for dinner, but I pull out the remaining beef and berries that I have and we share them.
He sticks his head out when the anthem begins to play. The girl from 10 is gone. That leaves the boy from 3, us, and both from District 1. I know that means that we will have to go our separate ways soon, but Iâm not quite ready to be alone again.
We lay on the rock floor of the cave, and I use my backpack to prop up my leg. Itâs starting to swell now.
âWeâre really defying the odds, arenât we?â Ash says.
I nod, realizing Iâve been thinking this myself. âYeah,â I say, âWho wouldâve thought the two from District 12 would be the last ones left with the Careers?â
âNot Haymitch,â Ash shorts, shaking his head, âHe had no hope for us.â
I laugh, but say, âI donât know, I think he had a little bit of hope.â
Ash stares at me for a second, then says, âSo⊠what was going on between the two of you?â
My heart jumps for a second, but I canât tell if itâs because I donât want the Capitol hearing about my relationship with Haymitch, or if the implication of anything going on between us was affecting me.
âNothing was going on between us,â I say carefully, dismissing his question.
Ash snorts again. Of course he knows. How couldnât he? He picks up on the smallest details about people. I was so busy thinking about how it could be used as an advantage that it never crossed my mind that he might be watching me as well.
âPlease,â he says, âThat night when you cleaned him up after he threw up on himself?â
âAsh,â I warn.
âOr all of those times I caught you staring at each other?â
Thatâs it. Iâm dead. If what Haymitch said was right, President Snow will most certainly hear this and be on his way to plan my painful death immediately.
If Iâm going to die anyway, whatâs the point of lying now? Hell, maybe if Iâm lucky Iâll earn sympathy from the viewers in the Capitol and theyâll send me something to make me death less miserable.
I sigh, formally giving up. âYeahâŠâ I nod.
âYeah?â Ash repeats, obviously waiting for me to say more.
I purse my lips, wondering if I should say more. If Iâm going to die, do I want Haymitch to know how much Iâve always cared about him? Or will that just make things worse for him? Itâs not like they can kill me again if Iâm already going to die in here.
I decided to tell the truth, âYeah,â I pause, taking a deep breath, âHe used to be one of my best friends⊠before⊠you know.â
Ash nods.
âWe just kind of⊠grew apart,â I say carefully, unsure of what they know in the Capitol. Surely they wouldnât have broadcasted the details about the fire and his family. The people of the Capitol are far too shallow to care about anything relating to the Victors beyond their annual entertainment.
Ash nods again, but I can see a slight flicker in his eye like he knows Iâm lying. Ash picks up on everything, I wonder just how much he knows.
âHe just always meant the world to me,â I say, feeling myself getting upset, âHe always will.â
Ash frowns, reaching out a hand to place over mine in solidarity.
âSo why did you lie?â He asks.
âWhat?â I ask, getting nervous. If he knows something, if says somethingâ
âIn our interviews,â he says, âYou said you didnât know each other before. Why?â
Shit. What now? Words tumble from my mouth before I can fully think it through.
âIâŠâ I start, unsure where the sentence will end, âI just didnât want everyone to know.â I fake my best vulnerable look, knowing the Capitol will be watching, âI didnât want to explain it all to them because I didnât fully understand it myself.â
I know thatâs not a good enough response, but Ash nods anyway.
âSoâŠâ Ash says after a minute, âWere you, like, in love with him?â
I think for a minute. Was I in love with him? I certainly have always loved him. Even just being near him made me feel better, even when he was intoxicated. Even if I were in love with him, would I want to say it for all of Panem to hear? For him to hear?
If I die in hereâ which I know I probably will now that President Snow is aware of our affection for each otherâ do I want Haymitch to know I was in love with him? Would that make things worse for him?
I donât know, so I say, âIâm not sure if I know what being in love feels like.â
Ash seems to understand how much conflict in this conversation is bringing me because he doesnât ask more questions. He falls asleep shortly after, but I donât fall asleep for a couple of hours. My mind is swimming with thoughts of Haymitch, my parents, Burdock, and the fact that the Gamemakers might be orchestrating a horrible death for me right now.
The next morning, Ash is up before I am. He goes to find some plants for us to eat, and I take another pain pill. The dark veins have made their way up my my upper arm now, and the cut on my leg still feels hot in a way that I know could become dangerous.
We eat in silence, only exchanging words when we decide to go our separate ways by the end of the day. If we stay together any longer than that, we risk the possibility of having it get down to just us. This is reaffirmed when a cannon goes off just as weâre finishing our food. I secretly hope that itâs the boy from 3. If heâs gone, at least I know thereâs no one else out there with a personal vendetta against me.
There are 4 of us left.
Ash and I stay in the cave for the morning, not saying much at all. Thereâs not much to say when you know you both might be dead my tomorrow. Much less when only one of us might still be alive.
There are no more cannons for the rest of the day. In the late afternoon, Ash and I share the rest of my crackers and his chocolate. We both decided to leave the cave for good. If either one of us wants to make it home, we need more food and to kill the two from District 1. Assuming that theyâre the two that are both still alive.
When it starts to get dark, we step out of the cave to go our separate ways. We embrace each other tightly.
âThank you,â he says to me.
For what? Iâm not sure, but his words carry a lot of weight.
âYou too,â I say, âIâm sorry things had to be this way.â
âIâm sorry too,â he says, âIf I donât make it out if here⊠I hope you win.â
I nod, feeling emotions rise in my chest as I say farewell to my only ally. âSame here. Good luck, Ash.â
âYou too,â and just like that heâs gone.
I have to stand there for a while, trying to keep it together, knowing that was the last time Iâll ever see Ash. We had a strange bond, but Iâve grown very fond of him since the Reaping. He doesnât deserve this. None of these kids do.
I decide not to head straight to the Cornucopia. Ash had shown me a few edible plants, so as I walked I began collecting them. They should hold me over for now. Iâd filled up my water bottles before leaving the waterfall, but once thatâs gone Iâm not sure what Iâll do.
I have to find another walking stick for now. My leg is much less painful since Iâve been taking the pills that Haymitch sent, but itâs still swollen and difficult to walk on for long periods of time.
Iâm not even sure where Iâm headed, I just keep walking. When the sun begins to go down, I reach the edge of the woods. They slowly begin thinning, and border the corn field. Itâs intimidating. I donât know who or what could be hiding in there, waiting for a victim.
I donât seem to have any other choice though. I didnât see anywhere that I could effectively hide in the woods since we left the cave, and now with nightfall coming quickly I canât risk being exposed in the trees. The corn could provide at least some protection if itâs able to hide me overnight.
I eat some of the remaining roots that I picked up on the way here, and take a breath, bracing myself to enter this unknown territory. I step into the edge of the corn, making sure to walk in a straight line so I donât get lost.
The second I step into the maze, I hear a cannon go off. In my heart, Iâm praying it wasnât for Ash. There are only four of us left. Could I make it out of here alive? Probably not, if the Gamemakers are planning my death, but Iâm close enough that I allow myself some hope. Maybe I will see my parents again. Maybe I will get to see Haymitch againâŠ
Iâm maybe fifty yards deep into the corn when I realize that this might not have been the best idea. In all directions, all I can see is corn. It would be incredibly easy to get lost and die of starvation or dehydration in here. I wonder how many tributes fell into that trap.
I continue advancing straight for at least fifty more yards until I decide to settle for the night. I find a small patch of dirt that I can at least sit down on to rest until the morning. I take a sip of water, swallowing another pain pill, when I drop my bottle cap. It only goes about two feet to my right. I go to pick it up, and realize that the corn is a lot less dense just a few feet over.
My plan is to move over just a few feet and camp out there for the night, but when I move I find myself standing in some sort of pathway of dirt extending in both directions.
It was a corn maze. Iâd read about these in a storybook when I was young, but we didnât have anything like this in District 12. I wondered where the path would take me, but decided against exploring that tonight.
It occurred to me that if thereâs a pathway, maybe there are other tributes in here. It might be best for me to return to the denser corn, at least until the morning.
I reach in front of me, getting ready to push some of the corn aside, but quickly retract my hand at the sharp pain I feel. My hand is bleeding. The corn is sharp as razor blades. It certainly was not that sharp just a few moments ago.
The Gamemakers have trapped me in here.
The only way out has to be from following the path, and I have no idea which way to go or how far I am from the rest of the arena. I also donât have any food remaining, and it doesnât seem that Iâll be snacking on razor sharp corn any time soon.
I could die in here.
Was this their plan all along? To let me get to the end just to starve me out in the maze? To let Haymitch watch me slowly die?
I refuse to let them get the best of me so easily. I follow my gut instinct, and begin walking to my left down the dirt path. Iâll walk until my calf starts screaming at me, then Iâll rest until I can walk again. I will not let them starve me for their entertainment.
Itâs only about an hour before I have to stop. My calf feels like itâs on fire, and my arm is beginning to feel numb. I take my arm out of my sleeve to see that the deep purple veins have begun turning black, but theyâve stopped spreading when they reached my shoulder. That canât be good.
Although Iâve walked for an hour, I feel as though Iâve made no progress at all. Corn is in every direction. Nothing but corn. Iâm not entirely sure that I havenât been walking in circles. My stomach is beginning to growl and I sit on the dirt ground, resigning for the night.
Just as I sit, the anthem begins to play. I brace myself, waiting to see Ashâs face in the sky. Instead, I see the boy from District 1. I audibly gasp. The girl from District 1 will be working alone now. Itâs much less of a threat when itâs just one of them.
All thatâs left is Ash, the girl from 1, and the boy from 3âŠ
Iâd forgotten about him. If the odds are in my favor, someone else will take him out. If Iâm the one to fight him, I know he will try his best to make sure I die a painful death after I wounded him.
Before the end of the anthem, a silver parachute falls in front of me. I open it quickly, anxious to receive any help I can.
Within the box is a small compass to wear around my neck, a thermos container of meat and rice, and a thin netâŠ? Iâm not sure what to make of these, but I quickly dig into my meal, desperate to stop the gnawing in my stomach.
âThank you, Haymitch,â I whisper, pressing my hand over my heart.
I donât allow myself to eat all of it. Itâll be useful to have tomorrow, especially if I canât find my way out of here. After packing the thermos into my backpack, I examine the compass and the net. The compass should be able to help me get out of here, or at least give me some sort of direction. The net however⊠Iâm really not sure. Iâve never seen such a thin, delicate net like this before. I shrug, knowing that Haymitch wouldnât have sent it for no reason. I put it into my backpack as well.
I decide to try to bury the parachute and box, hoping that if any other tributes came along that they wouldnât know Iâve been here. The effort is in vain, because itâs ridiculously large and isnât discrete no matter how much I try to cover it with dirt.
It occurs to me that I should try to get some rest tonight if I can. I need my energy if Iâm going to be walking through this maze all day tomorrow, and Iâll certainly need it if I want to escape this maze. I have no clue what will be waiting for me when I exit.
I get as comfortable as I can on the dirt, when I notice a small slip of paper next to me. It must have fallen out when I hastily opened my package.
I believe in you- H
I read over it a few times, feeling warmth in my chest but also mild confusion. He believes in me? Does that mean he thinks I have a chance to make it out of here? Could I have somehow won over the Gamemakers and convinced them that I could be the Victor?
I tuck the note into my backpack, and feel a newfound hope rising in me. Haymitch will have been watching everything thatâs happened in the games so far. If he believes I can win, then I have to really have a chance to win.
I eventually doze off, a soft smile on my face, and dream about what life would be like if I do make it home.
I wake when the sun is beginning to rise. I allow myself a few bites of chicken and rice, but not too much. I take one more pain pill and decide to get moving.
The compass immediately proves to be helpful. I choose my paths, deciding to continue moving North as much as I can. Itâs just an assumption that North is the correct direction to be going, but either way itâs not like this maze could go on forever.
By midday, the sun is beating down on me and Iâve drank the entirety of my first water bottle. Even if I ration the second, Iâm sweating far too much.
I still havenât seen anything besides lots of corn. Everywhere. Only corn. I start to feel like I might be losing my mind. The only reason that I know Iâm not walking in circles is my compass.
I break for lunch, sitting down on the dirt and eating a few spoonfuls out of my thermos. There is maybe a cup left, but after I eat that itâll be gone. There have been no cannons today.
Iâve just finished packing up my meal back into my backpack when I hear a strange buzzing sound near my right ear. Instinctively, I swat away whatever is there. I assume that itâs just a small bee like the ones we have in 12, but when I pull my hand away, a large yellow beetle has latched itself to my hand. Itâs about two inches wide, and three tall. I try pulling it off, and it comes off easily, but a large sore has now taken its place. It looks like a pimple. Itâs raised, red, and has a white spot in the middle, but itâs raised at least half an inch off of my skin.
I quickly stand, preparing to get as far away from this monster bug as I can when I hear another one. But itâs not just one. An entire swarm of bright yellow beetles is coming at me from the right. I scramble to stand, and begin running as quickly as I can with my wounded leg.
I manage a good head start, but theyâre fast. Soon, theyâre less than a foot behind me and I start to panic. I donât stop running when I feel another one attach to my cheek. For the next minute, Iâm running as fast as I can with at least ten beetles attached to me. Iâm constantly swatting them away, but as soon as they detach, another one takes it place. Theyâre everywhere, my neck, my face, my handsâ just about every piece of exposed skin that I have.
Three more have just attached themselves to me when I remember the net. The net! This must be what Haymitch sent that for. If I can just get my net out of my bag, I can protect myself from any more latching onto me.
While still running, I swing my bag off of my shoulder, ripping it open and pulling out the net as quickly as I can without spilling anything else. I pull it over my head, tucking it into the waistband of my pants after I remove as many bugs from my skin as I can. It works. No more bugs are attaching themselves to me, except for one on my ankle.
I donât stop running, but itâs only a moment before all of the bugs disappear back into the corn. I take a breath and look down, net still over me, examining my bites. I canât see my face or neck, but I can feel them everywhere. I have five raised bumps on each of my hands, more on my wrists, and theyâre all beginning to itch.
Before I know whatâs going on, the bumps on my hands begin to pop. I feel like Iâm in a nightmare. Each bump pops, revealing an orange goo that seeps out of them. My hands are covered in it. Is this coming from my body? Or did they inject me with some weird chemical when they bit me?
I sit down, refusing to remove the net from over my head when I try my best to clean myself up. There was another antiseptic sheet in my first aid kit, so I cleaned my hands, face and neck with it. Orange goo now stained my shirt and pants. Even after cleaning, my skin kept an orange tint. I look like one of the crazy people from the Capitol that dye their skin.
The bumps disappear, only leaving minuscule bite marks on the skin. It wouldnât be that easy. If the bites werenât deadly, then I was sure that the orange goo will have some sort of horrible affect setting in soon. Capitol mutts arenât just made for a laugh. They always provide some sort of danger.
Minutes later, I realize exactly what that danger is. My vision begins to blur, and every sound seems to echo. My limbs are moving slowly. I try to stand, to continue walking, but it takes me ten minutes to get five feet. Has it been ten minutes? I can hardly see and every step I take sounds like five.
I collapse on the dirt ground, unable to move, and black out.
I wake up shivering. My vision is still a little blurry, but mostly back to normal. The echoing has stopped, and I think my movements have returned to normal speed, but my body feels feverish. My skin is hot and it feels like someone put all of my organs in the oven before sending me out into the cold.
All I can do is hope that Iâm not feverish from an infection in my leg wound, but I know itâs not unlikely. I stand, my joints aching, and try to continue moving. I wonât let myself die in here.
Itâs hard, but I successfully continue moving for about an hour before I hear a scream. It sounds like a girlâs scream, so it must be the girl from 1. If I can hear her scream, I must be close to the exit to the maze. Unless sheâs in here with meâŠ
No cannon goes off.
After ten more minutes of walking, I can see the opening. The Cornucopia is straight ahead of me. All I have to do is keep going and Iâll make it out of here. I do my best to run until I reach the opening, and when I do, it feels like I can finally take a deep breath. My fever instantly feels like itâs broken. I wondered what else the maze was doing to me that I wasnât aware of.
My moment of relief didnât last long, because a moment later I hear, âHey, 12!â
I look to my left to see the boy from 3 limping toward me. His leg looks terrible. It seems to be dragging behind him with every step he takes, but even with that slowing him down, heâs not slow. He advances quickly toward me and I reach around to grab my knives out of my bag.
Iâm too late. He runs toward me, not even tripping over his limp leg. I start to run away, but trip over a large rock that I swear was not there a moment ago.
In seconds, heâs over me, pressing a knife straight against my chest. Heâs going to kill me.
âYou see my leg?â He asks, snarling like a dog.
I nod, âSorry about that.â
I grip my knives, but his entire weight is over me and I can hardly move my arms.
âYou thought you could make it out of here?â He says, the horrible cocky smirk returning to his face. âYou thought you could be like your friend Haymitch? An underdog winning from District 12?â
I donât respond, quickly trying to think of how I can get out of this. If he moved his weight slightly to the right, I could get my hand out enough to stab him in the side.
âNot on my watch, 12.â He says harshly, and he slowly presses his knife harder against my chest. I can feel my skin break, and Iâve just begun to accept that this might be how I die, when the boy above me jolts. His face is stuck in shock, and he tries to move off of me. He rolls onto the ground, an axe in his back.
An axe. Ashâs axe.
Ash stands fifteen feet away, his face contorted in fear. The District 3 boy rips the axe from his back, but stumbles.
âNo,â he whimpers, bending over on all fours, breathing heavily, âNo⊠it was supposed to be me.â
Ash walks toward me and I remove the knife from my chest, clutching it tightly in my left hand.
The boy cries once before he collapses. The cannon goes off. Ash grabs his axe from the ground, nodding at me once.
âThank you,â I say, tears brimming my eyes as I realize that Ash has just saved my life.
He takes a step back, seemingly ready to go our separate ways again when he falls to his knees. His jaw drops in shock, and I see that a large arrow has sunk itself right into his chest. He collapses, pulling the arrow out slowly.
âAsh,â I whisper, shaking my head and crawling over to him, âNo, no!â
An arrow whizzes my by head, and I quickly turn to see the girl from District 1 standing ten yards away with a bow in her grip. She reaches behind her for another arrow, about to shoot. In that moment, all I felt was true anger. A knife releases from my hand and sinks directly in her throat. She collapses. A cannon sounds a minute later.
I turn back on my knees, clutching Ash in my arms as close as I can. âAsh!â I shout, he is unconscious.
A cannon sounds. I won.
âAsh!â I say again desperately, shaking him and patting his face. He doesnât wake up.
I begin to cry. This isnât fair. Ash saved my life, and now that was a debt I can never repay. He was such a sweet, smart boy and he didnât deserve this fate. He was my friend.
I donât let go of him, even when I hear the announcement.
âLadies and gentlemen, may I present to you the winner of the 52nd Hunger Games.â
âNo!â I shout, âAshâŠâ I donât stop crying.
A hovercraft is approaching in the distance. I canât leave him like this.
In District 12, funerals are small. We never have enough money to do anything special, but thereâs a song we sing to send our loved ones to the grave. The last time I remembered singing it was at the funeral of Haymitchâs family.
âYouâre headed for heaven,â I sang quietly, tears choking me, âThe sweet old hereafter.â
âAnd Iâve got one foot in the door
But before I can fly up
I have loose ends to tie up right here,
In the old therebefore.â
I do my best to get all of the words out, but I canât stop choking on my tears. Several announcements come, instructing me to mount the ladder that has been sent down from the hovercraft, but I ignore them until I finish the song.
I press a soft kiss onto Ashâs forehead, staining him with tears, and finally step onto the ladder.
Iâm glad that Iâm stuck in position as soon as Iâm on it, because I feel so weak that I donât think Iâd be able to hold on by myself. The ladder pulls me all the way up into the hovercraft, and as soon as Iâm in it I am sedated.
Part III: The Victor
When I wake, I canât tell what day it is, or what time. Iâm in a room that looks identical to my room in the Tribute Center, but with no windows. Iâm in a clean set of white linen clothes. My limbs feel stiff, the orange tint to my skin is gone, and so are the purple veins that had made their way up my arm. My right arm still does feel tingly, but not numb like it did in the arena. My hair feels clean, and my mouth tastes minty like someone brushed my teeth for me.
Then it hits meâ I won. I won the 52nd Hunger Games. I get to go home. I get to see my family again, Iâll get to see Burdock and Astrid again, HaymitchâŠ
I stand quickly, catching myself on my nightstand when I get dizzy. I wonder how long Iâve been laying in that bed. Once my dizziness clears, I step to my door, turning the handle to open it. The handle doesnât turn. I knock on the door. Where am I?
No response comes. I step back, examining the room that Iâve been placed in. The walls are pure white, and so is the floor. All of the furniture is identical to my room in the Tribute Center, and so is the bathroom in the corner. I walk toward the bathroom. At least that door has to be unlocked.
It is, and I step into the bathroom, shocked by my reflection in the mirror. I look thin. My cheekbones and jaw are showing, my eyes look sunken in, and I have dark circles under my eyes. My skin however, is glowing like it hasnât been through a single tragedy ever. My nose also looks straighter than it ever has before, and my lips look⊠fuller? Iâve never looked that symmetrical in my life.
I jump when my bedroom door opens, and Effie enters my room. I turn to her.
âEffie!â I say, relieved to see a familiar face.
âMy girl,â she says, smiling sadly, âWe are so proud of you.â
She takes me down some pure white hallways, and an elevator with no windows, before we eventually reach the 12th floor of the Tribute Center. How big is this place? Have I been here all along?
We enter the familiar room, and Effie raves about how much the citizens in the Capitol just adored me. How she told everyone that I was always so brave and she never doubted me. I know this to be a lie, but I donât call her for it.
She sends me to my room to get dressed. Tonight I will be interviewed in front of all of Panem, and forced to watch the highlights of the Games. Itâs sickening.
My room is still the same as it was when I left. I wonder how they got exact duplicate furniture in the room where Iâd woken up.
A gown is laid on my bed and I dress in it. Itâs long and yellow with diamonds laced into the neckline. It has long sleeves that drape over my hands, and the skirt is so long that it drags behind me. The yellow reminds me of the beetles in the arena, and I wonder if that was an intentional choice. For me to be seen in the color from a memorable moment of the Games. The people of the Capitol love that garbage.
I walk out of my room, but my prep team immediately arrives to pull me back in and fuss over me. They congratulate me, telling me about all of their favorite moments in the Games. Most of them donât include me. However, they seem to be thrilled to get to be a part of the winning team.
Effie comes in a few times to bring me food and water. She and my prep team rave over how beautiful I look and how all of Panem is going to be simply obsessed with me.
At one point I interrupt them and ask, âWhereâs Haymitch?â
Effieâs expression turns from excited to soft. My prep team seems to get emotional over my question, and for a moment Iâm afraid the Capitol has killed him.
âOh, dear,â Effie says, reaching to place a soft hand over my shoulder, âWhat you two have is so special. When you were in that cave telling Ash about him, we all cried,â she says, gesturing to my prep team who nod, one of them even wipes a tear away.
âWhere is he?â I ask again.
Effie purses her lips, seemingly choosing her words before replying, âHe had some trouble when you were in the arena⊠but he will be ready for the show tonight!â
I sit up straight, âSome trouble?â I ask, panicking, âWhat kind of trouble? Is he okay?â
Effie smiles warmly, and one of the women in my prep team gasps, whispering, âShe doesnât know.â
I swat their hands away, suddenly feeling suffocated by the makeup on my face and the intricate hairstyle on my head, âI donât know what?â
Effie reaches out to me, stroking my face softly, âHe hardly slept when you were in the arena, dear. Andââ she faces my prep team, smiling like she has the hottest gossip in Panem, âI only saw him have a drink once.â
They all gasp, one of them begins to cry again.
âWhat?â I ask, confused.
Effie places her hand on her chest affectionately, âHe couldnât look away. He did all that he could to keep you alive,â she says, âThe only time he had a drink was when you had fainted after being bitten by those horrid bugs.â
The boy on my prep team gasps, âWe didnât think you were going to make it.â
They begin their meaningless chatter again about where they were when the biggest moments were happening. I try to process the information that Iâve just been given. Haymitch stopped drinking? He didnât sleep? I never knew I meant so much to him.
I interrupt their conversation again when I realize I never got an answer, âSo where is he?â I ask.
Effie frowns, pausing for a long moment before telling me, âHe was going through withdrawals and with the lack of sleep⊠the doctors thought it would be best to monitor him for a while.â
I nod, blinking away the tears that were making their way into my eyes. âBut, heâs okay now? And heâll be there tonight?â
She nods.
An hour later, I am brought down the elevator and into a waiting room before the interviews begin. I hear endless chatter and excitement outside, and I wonder how these people truly can take this all so lightly. Children died. Twenty three of them. And the citizens of the Capitol are acting like theyâre going to the most exciting event of the year.
I can hear from a built-in speaker in the waiting room that Caesar has begun the show. The anthem plays, and I have to blink hard to stop from seeing those faces in the sky again.
Effie retrieves me from the waiting room and brings me backstage. She squeezes my shoulders and reapplies lipstick on my lips before telling me when itâs my turn to go on stage.
First, Caesar will interact with the audience and recount some of the most important details of the Games this year. Next, Haymitch will go on stage and be congratulated for his success. He will thank the sponsors, and then I will go on stage.
I wait backstage and realize that last time I was here, there were 23 others waiting with me. Now Iâm alone. It hits me like a knife to the chest, and now I know exactly what that feels like. I canât believe that only a week ago we were allâ
âSweetheart?â A voice says from behind me. I turn and there he is. He looks clean. Healthy. Sober.
I canât stop myself from launching myself forward and flinging my arms around him. Heâs here. Iâm here. We did it.
Weâre both shaking, and I donât even care that Iâm crying. My prep team will be angry that Iâm letting my makeup run, but thatâs the last thing on my mind right now. I can hear him sniffling in my ear too, and my heart twists.
âYou did it,â he whispers, holding me tightly.
âThanks to you,â I say.
Before we can say any more, Caesar is introducing Haymitch and he has to go on stage. He holds my hand tightly in his, kissing it gently until the last second when he steps onto the stage.
I watch from behind the curtains, my heart racing at the sight of him. Heâs in a yellow suit, perfectly matching my dress. His hair is shiny, his face lively. I adore this boy.
Caesar congratulates him on his victory, but he declines, saying that it was all me. He mentions the sponsors, thanking them graciously. Normally, this would be where Haymitch takes a seat on the edge of the stage and I come out for my interview.
Instead, Caesar says he has more questions for him.
âNow Haymitch,â he starts, âWhat were you thinking before you got that last gift to her? You knew that the maze was full of lethal bugs, and you might have saved her life with that net.â
The audience cheers for a long time, and Haymitch seems to take this time to think before responding.
âI just couldnât lose her,â he says.
Caesar looks touched, looking at the audience for a reaction. They cheer loudly, and from where Iâm standing I can see some of them crying.
When they quiet down, Caesar continues, âAnd when she was in the cave and confessed her love for you, how did you feel then?â
Haymitch sits back, taking a deep breath. The audience goes silent, hanging onto his every word.
âI felt devestated,â he says, and I see more tears in the audience, âThat I wasted my time with her. I was always drunk and never thought that things could work between us. I thought she was going to die in that arena before I ever got to be with her.â
âAnd now?â Caesar asked, literally sitting on the edge of his seat.
Haymitch paused, turning in his seat to briefly look at me. The look in his eyes was asking if weâre on the same page. I gave him a gentle smile, though I was still unsure how I felt about everything. What now? Will the Capitol let us return home? Or will they continue trying to kill me even now that Iâm out of the arena? Will Haymitch stay sober? Or will the rest of my life mean trying to keep him from choking on his vomit?
He turns back to Caesar, saying, âNow I donât ever want to let her go again.â
Lots of âawwwwâs come from the audience. A moment later, I am being called onto the stage. Haymitch leaves his seat to sit on the mentorâs designated seat on the edge of the stage. I take the seat directly across from Caesar.
The cheering goes on for several minutes, and I am forced to endure it with a smile as if I am truly happy to be here.
When the cheering quiets, Caesar takes a moment to congratulate me for my victory.
âYou were truly outstanding in the arena,â he says, âIt was against all odds that we would have another Victor from District 12 of all places so soon, and you defied those odds.â He leans in closely, then turns to the crowd and shouts, âIsnât she great folks?â
More applause erupts and I have to fake a smile again and act like he is truly complimenting me.
âNow tell me,â he says after the applause quiets down, âhow do you feel now that you are out of the arena?â
I glance at Haymitch, and just from the look in his eyes I can tell that this is a question I should not answer honestly. Saying how terrified I still am, how frustrated I am that all of those children died, how I still havenât processed Ashâs death seems like the wrong thing to say, so instead I say:
âGood.â
âJust good?â Caesar repeats, urging me to say more.
I nod, realizing that the Games didnât end when I left the arena. Every move I make is being watched, and the wrong one might lead to terrible consequences.
I smile, bashfully, âWell, Iâm not covered in beetle bites anymore, and my leg is functional again.â
I lift the hem of my dress to show the audience my calf, now completely healed like it was never wounded to begin with. They gasp and cheer. I glance to Haymitch and he gives me an approving nod.
âAhhh, I love it!â Caesar exclaims, beaming at the audience, âThe Capitol is so generous, arenât they folks?â
The audience cheers again. When they stop, the highlights begin showing on the screen. I learn a lot about the Games that I hadnât known before.
Four tributes died in the corn maze in the first two days. The mutt bugs, getting cut on the razor sharp cornstalks and not having any way to patch it up, one girl even got chased by the boy from 3 until he realized how dangerous the maze was. The two from District 1 were responsible for most of the other deaths, of course. They were ruthless.
I sat there, reacting live to all of the major moments. I cheered when Ash killed the boy from 2. The audience was loving it. I had to watch myself get sprayed by the lizard and then get the knife in my calf by the District 3 boy. The replay made it seem like we were rivals hunting each other down for most of the Games.
They showed the part when Ash and I discovered each other in the cave. My heart tugged and I had to force myself to not cry on stage. Ash. They highlighted the sweet moments in our alliance, like when he let me rest and he went to gather food, and when we shared our meals together.
The part that really got everyone worked up was on our last night as allies when Ash was asking me about Haymitch. The room went completely silent. They had already seen this, of course, but they were still hanging on to every word.
When I watched myself say, âHe just always meant the world to me,â my face got hot. I could feel myself blushing and I hoped that it wasnât overly noticeable, but by the sniffling in the audience I assumed that it was.
I glanced over to Haymitch, gauging his reaction, but he was staring at the screen like everybody elseâ hanging on to every word.
When it showed me entering the corn field, I could feel a wave of nausea hit me. I thought I was going to die in that corn field. I also knew that the finale was coming soon. I breathed deeply, forcing myself to relax.
I watched as I cut myself on the cornstalks, and realized that I was trapped. When Haymitchâs sponsor gift reached me, I didnât realize how hopeful I looked. I looked over at Haymitch on the edge of the stage, and he was looking at his feet.
The bugs. I had to close my eyes at the bugs. The audience gasped, as if they were reliving the horrors with me. I looked to Haymitch, whoâs eyes were locked on mine. We both stared at each other until the part came where I escaped the maze.
We see Ash waiting in the edge of the woods when I exited the maze. We see the boy from District 3, I now know that his name was Herman, taunting me before nearly killing me. Ash leaves the woods to save me, and Herman takes the axe to the back.
Ash is about to run when the girl from District 1 shows up. I look away. I canât watch this any more. I look over to Haymitch for comfort, and he shakes his head, standing. What is he doing?
He starts to walk over to me on stage, and takes a seat next to me on my chair. He gives me a long hug and I am so absorbed in him that it takes a second to realize that the audience is going nuts. Cheers erupt everywhere, tears are falling, the applause is deafening. My head is tucked into his neck and mg own tears are falling, and I canât stop them.
When Caesar says comically, âAre we interrupting something?â I am forced to laugh away my tears and pull back.
Haymitch stays next to me, holding tightly onto my hand until after I sing The Old Therebefore and am taken onto the hovercraft. He squeezes my hand, silently asking if itâs okay for him to return to his assigned seat for the rest of the interview. I nod, but am hesitant to let go of his hand.
Immediately after the interview I am whisked away to the crowning ceremony. Effie pulls me into a fancy car with tinted windows, and we drive through crowded streets of crazed Capitol civilians to the Presidentâs Mansion. After the crowning ceremony, there is a party held at the mansion in my honor.
Haymitch meets us outside the mansion and refuses to leave my side until the last possible moment. He only lets go of my hand for the crowning ceremony. We stand on a balcony, me on one side and Haymitch and Effie opposite, and thousands of Capitol citizens are below, cheering. President Snow comes out and for a split second I think think that he gives Haymitch a look of disgust, but it is quickly replaced by a charming smile as he greets me, he shakes my hand, congratulating me on my victory.
âI would like to meet with you later,â he says quietly just before he places the crown on my head.
I am stricken with terror, but I know better than to let it show now.
After the ceremony, we are brought inside to a fancy room to wait. The walls are trimmed in with gold, the ceilings painted with imagery that seems familiar but I donât quite recognize. There is more food than I could imagine spread across tables for us. I am far too nervous to eat. Effie, Haymitch and I sit in various velvet chairs around the room.
Effie announces the itinerary, and then we all fall silent. The silence is only broken when Haymitch says, âEffie, do you mind if we have a minute?â
She smiles excitedly, standing from her seat, âOf course! Where are my manners? I will be outside, but remember, we must go downstairs to the party in ten minutes!â
She exits the room quickly, shutting the door behind her. Now itâs just us. I donât know what to say or do. Haymitch stands from his chair and walks over to me. I expect him to embrace me, or maybe hold my hand like he did earlier, but instead he grabs my shoulders tightly.
âListen,â he says in a hushed voice, yet incredibly serious, âBefore we go down, you have to know.â
âWhat?â I ask.
âYou werenât supposed to win,â he says hastily, âThe Gamemakers were planning for you to get killed by the maze but you survived. Then by the girl from District 1. They didnât think youâd be able to pull it off. Snow isnât happy. Heââ
âHaymitch, slow down,â I say, panic rising in my chest.
âNo!â He says urgently, âYou need to listen.â
I am silent, waiting for him to continue.
He waits for a moment, choosing his words carefully, âThat moment in the caveâ when you were talking about meâ that changed everything.â
âWhat do you mean?â I ask.
âPeople talk in the Capitol. A lot. It had already gotten around that Iâd stopped drinking when you went into the arena, and when they found out how much you cared about meâŠâ he trailed off, taking a step back and running his hands down his face, âThey started rooting for you. Everyone wanted to sponsor you.â
I shake my head, not understanding what heâs trying to say. âSnow wants to meet with me.â
Haymitch pauses, opening his mouth but no words come out.
âHaymitch?â I ask, but Iâm afraid I already know what that means.
He kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his, âIâll find a way out of this, okay? I wonât let him take you from me.â
I nod, solemnly, squeezing his hands in mine. I lean down, pressing my forehead to his. Heâs broken out in a sweat.
âLetâs just wait and see what he has to say.â I say.
The party is like nothing Iâve ever seen before. It takes place in the backyard on the Presidentâs Mansion, and everyone is dressed in even more ridiculous clothing than they normally are. One woman has a shirt that is made out of beads that look like bugs. Glad my terror has made a new fashion trend.
There are people standing on high platforms doing tricks, people swimming in a gigantic pool with live fish swimming beside them, and even real caged birds as centerpieces. The entire thing is appalling. These people have no concern for anything other than themselves.
Haymitch and I stick closely together. He leads me to thank my sponsors, itâs customary, whom are mostly older men with a sickening look in their eyes. They look at me like Iâm a piece of meat. Haymitch keeps his arm around my waist until we sit down to eat.
There are large tables lining the yard, with more than enough food to feed my district for at least a year. Everyone sits down and President Snow makes a toast. Itâs some scripted nonsense about how the Capitolâs generosity has allowed me to break free from the suffering that happens in 12, and how only becoming a Victor can provide such a freedom. Everyone applauds like he just granted us national peace.
Iâm seated next to Effie, and some wealthy business owner from the Capitol. Everyone chatters about what a lovely time of year it is, and how President Snow is so generous to throw such a grand party. Just as I finish a large plate of green vegetables and some sort of gourmet aquatic creature from District 4, a Capitol servant taps my shoulder.
I turn, and the servant holds out a card for me. I take it, and read it. It is a thick piece of card stock, with gold along the edges. Probably real gold. In cursive writing on the front, it reads:
See me in the study- President Coriolanus Snow
My food begins rising up my throat, and I search the table for Haymitch. He is nowhere in sight.
âEverything okay, dear?â Effie asks from beside me.
I nod, âIâll be right back,â I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady.
I follow the servant out of the yard and into the mansion. We walk through extravagant rooms filled with artwork and servants. Eventually, we climb the stairs and reach a large room covered in a dark brown wood, and filled with books. All of the noise from the party below feels miles away from up here. The servant stops at the door, but gestures for me to enter. I do. What other choice do I have?
President Snow sits behind a large wooden desk, with nothing but a vase of white roses in front of him. I walk toward him, trying to keep my limbs from noticeably trembling. He gestures for me to take a seat at the wooden chair across from him, and I do.
I smile, trying to be as polite as I can. If I make the wrong move, he will certainly kill me.
âEnjoying the party?â He asks, raising his chin to show his pride in the extravagant party that he has thrown.
âIt is lovely,â I say, nodding, âThe food was incredible.â
âAh, yes,â he says, âWe have the best chefs in all of Panem here. It is truly a dining experience like no other.â
I nod again, âCertainly.â
He leans forward on the desk, folding his hands into each other. âYou must be wondering why I wanted to meet with you.â
âYes sir,â I say, âI am.â
He smiles, âI simply was curious, my dear. There has been so much talk of you in the Capitol, yet I know so little about you.â
I take a deep breath, feeling the need to steady myself, âWhat would you like to know?â
He starts speaking before I finish asking the question, âThat charming song you sang for the boy in the arena. Where did you learn it?â
My mind flashes back to Ashâs death.
âWe sing it in District 12,â I say, âFor funerals. Itâs our way of saying goodbye to our loved ones.â
He nods, smiling as if the subject is fascinating, âAnd do you know where that song comes from?â
I think for a moment, before shaking my head, âI donât know sir. Weâve been singing it at funerals since I was a little girl.â
âAh,â is all he says, readjusting in his seat so he is leaning back comfortably.
âAre you going to kill me?â I ask, before I can stop myself.
He looks surprised, but his face quickly shifts back to a smile and he says calmly, âIs there a reason that you think I should kill you?â
I shake my head, âNo sir.â
âThen I will not,â he says, plucking a white rose from the vase on the table. âYou really are a fascinating girl.â
âI am?â I ask, feeling equally repulsed and intrigued.
âYes,â he says, pulling a petal from the rose as he turns it in his hands, âA girl from District 12, winning our Annual Hunger Games.â
I nod, waiting for him to continue.
âDid you know that you are the first female to ever become a Victor from District 12?â He asks, eyes scanning my face.
âI didnât know that,â I say, trying to recall the previous District 12 Victors. I canât. Just Haymitch. âWhat an accomplishment,â I say carefully.
âAn accomplishment indeed,â he nods, pulling another petal from the rose.
âAnd your mentor,â he begins, setting the rose down and looking directly at me, âI heard a rumor that he stopped drinking alcohol⊠to protect youâŠâ he pauses for a moment, smiling, âHow⊠remarkable.â
I force a smile, trying to look surprised. âI know,â I say, âI couldnât believe it.â
He nods, leaning forward again so that I could practically smell his breath, âTell me, do you think the Capitol is beneficial for the Districts?â
No. Of course not. No one in the Districts thinks that.
âOf course,â I say, lying through my teeth, âWe wouldnât have order if it werenât for the Capitol.â
He nods, staring at me for a moment before saying, âSome donât believe that.â
âReally?â I ask, waiting for him to say more.
He nods, picking up the white rose again. âSome like Haymitch Abernathy.â
My chest gets tight and the blood drains from my face. âHaymitch?â I ask, and my voice shakes more than Iâd like for it to.
âHm.â He says, still twirling the rose in his hands, âYes, your alleged lover. My dear, I want to make a deal with you.â
I say nothing, afraid that my voice will betray me again.
He continues, âI donât want to kill you. I donât want to kill the boy either. But people who are threats to the Capitol can not be trusted.â
I nod, heart racing in my chest.
âI will allow you both to live, get married, have children, whatever you may wish,â he says. âBut, you have to promise me something.â
âAnything,â I say, but immediately regret it.
âYou must control him,â he says, voice suddenly less charming, âIf I hear about Haymitch Abernathy rebelling against the Capitol again, I will kill you. And anyone else that the two of you may love.â
I stay silent, even more terrified in this moment than I was in the entirety of the games.
âHaymitch Abernathy does not have the power to overthrow the Capitol, does he, my dearest?â Snow asks.
The name makes my stomach churn, but I shake my head. âNo, he doesnât.â
âDo we have an understanding?â He asks, holding the white rose out to me.
I take it, breathing deeply, unable to think it through before I say, âYes, sir.â
âGood,â he says, sitting back in his chair again, âGo back and enjoy your party.â
âThank you,â I say, rising from my seat.
âAh,â he says just before I turn to walk out, âBe sure to thank your surgeon. He did a remarkable job, donât you think?â
I nod, not trusting my voice. My suspicions were confirmed. They did straighten my nose and enhance my lips after the Games. The worst part is, that I donât entirely hate it. I just hate that they didnât give me a choice. They did what they wanted to make me more desirable and the picture of envy for people in the Capitol.
When I get outside of the door of the study, I take a deep breath, blinking tears away. I realize that as horrible as that was, I feel slightly relieved. Iâm not going to die. Haymitch isnât going to die. President Snow will allow us to live long lives as long as we follow Capitol orders. That shouldnât be too hard.
Or will it? Will we be able to live our entire lives watching innocent children be sent to slaughter, or will we eventually feel the need to act? Even if we wanted to, we would end up dead.
I breathed again. I just needed to get through the night. Once I was back in 12, then I will have all the time in the world to think.
I walk back down the stairs, breathing deeply and plastering on a smile to rejoin the party. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, Haymitch is waiting for me. He smiles at me, but I can tell that he knows something has happened. He gives me a kiss on the cheek that makes several women around us squeal and applaud.
He takes my waist and we rejoin the festivities. We dance, we chat with strange looking people, we eat. Itâs not until after my âsurgeonâ approaches us and compliments his own good work that we sneak off to find somewhere more private.
Surrounding the yard is a large wall of bushes. We manage to find a gap in one of them and conceal ourselves behind some thick branches when no one is looking. As soon as we get into privacy, Haymitch lets go of my waist and stands across from me, eyes panicked.
âWhat did he say?â He asks, now grabbing my hands tightly.
I breath out, unsure of how he will react. âHe wanted to make a deal.â
Haymitchâs face turns to one of fear.
âHe said that you and I are free. To live long lives together,â I leave out the part about marriage and children, âAs long as we never interfere with the Capitol again.â
His face relaxes slightly, but not all of the way.
âWe will talk about it when we get back to 12, okay?â I ask, taking a step closer and squeezing his hands in mine.
He nods, hanging his head. âIâm so sorry,â he says.
âWeâre going to be okay.â I say, leaning into him, my face pressed into his neck.
He wraps his arms around my waist, drawing me closer, âI canât believe they operated on you.â
I wrapped my arms around his neck, nodding, âI know. I feel so violated. But at least itâs hardly noticeable. I couldâve come out all swollen like that girl on my prep team,â I say.
He laughs, and pulls me tight against him, silent for a moment before he speaks, âI canât believe youâre back.â
I nod, running my hands through the back of his hair, âI canât wait to get home.â
âThen what?â He asks, pulling away and looking at me in the eyes. Heâs getting closer and my face is getting hot.
âWhat do you mean?â I ask, looking behind his face at the bush branches. Our faces are so close and I feel so hot andâ
A flash goes off, breaking the moment. At the small break in the bushes is a photographer, beaming at us.
âCan we get one more like that? You two are gold,â he says eagerly.
âI donât think so,â Haymitch says, grabbing my hand and tugging me back into the party. My face is hot for the rest of the night.
The train ride back to District 12 is quiet. Effie is there to go over whatâs next. The Victory tour, my mentoring next year, and the occasional interview that I will have in the next few months. The press has become so enthralled in my life (particularly the part including Haymitchâ I guess itâs a big deal that two Victorâs might be getting together) and theyâve requested follow up interviews from when I return home.
That night is the first conscious sleep I have since being in the arena. I wake up three times from nightmares. Ash dying, the beetles crawling all over me, the boy from District 3. Eventually, I decide to not try to go back to sleep.
I wander the train, and find myself at Haymitchâs door. I knock once, and heâs at the door with a knife in his hand. He says he canât sleep without it since being in the Games. I realize that I want to learn absolutely everything about the new Haymitch.
We lay in his bed together and he holds me, telling me happy storiesâ some about his mother, some about when we were young togetherâ until I fall asleep. I donât have any more nightmares that night.
The next morning when we exit his room together, Effie has to wipe her eyes several times.
Adjusting to life back in District 12 is weird. My parents stay with me in my new house in Victorâs Village sometimes, but they have their business to run. I have enough money now to support us all forever, but theyâd rather continue helping people in whatever way they can. I admire them.
Burdock and Astrid come over often, but Haymitch still is afraid to see them. I stay at his house frequently. We have found that sleeping in the same bed helps to fight off the nightmares.
One night when neither of us can sleep, he tells me all about his Games, and everything he lost afterwards. My heart breaks for him. He deserved so much better.
âItâs better now,â he tells me.
âYeah?â I ask.
âYeah. Now that I have you,â he says.
I lean in and kiss him for the first time that night. No Capitol party, no cameras, just us.
Neither of us have to work now, so we spend a lot of time in the meadow just beyond District 12, imagining what life could be like if things were different. We spend hours laying in the dandelions. They give us hope. That one day things will grow to be beautiful.
Weâre laying in the meadow when the sun sets one night. The sky is the beautiful shade of orange that it turns right before the sun gets too low. I turn to Haymitch, admiring how the orange glow sets on his features.
Without thinking twice, I whisper, âI love you.â
He turns to me, smiling wide. He looks even more beautiful with a smile. He tackles me, pressing kisses all over my face.
âI love you like all-fire,â he says.
When the interviewers come, Haymitch is by my side. When the Victory Tour comes around, the nightmares come back. Itâs normal for us to sleep in his room every night on the train now.
One night, we were laying awake and I asked him, âDo you ever think about if things were different?â
âWhat do you mean?â He asked, his thumb stroking my cheek affectionately.
âLike, if we were to just say screw it and try to rebel against the Capitol? Would things be better?â I ask, yawning.
He scoots closer to me, kissing me softly on the lips, âOne day, sweetheart. Until then, Iâm keeping you safe right here with me.â
It turns out we arenât great at the mentor thing. I am there for him when he struggles to get through the Games sober. I get sponsors for our tributes when he is too distraught. Weâre there for each other when the tributes donât make it home.
For the rest of the year, there are some days we spend hours in each otherâs homes. On the fifteenth consecutive day that weâve spent in his house together, weâre sitting at the dining room table and reading when he says, âWhy donât you just move in?â
âMove in?â I ask, a blush raising to my face.
He shrugs, taking a sip of water, âYou practically live here already.â
âHmm,â I say, nodding, âI donât know.â
âWhat donât you know?â He says, laughing. He stands, coming around the table to kiss me. And kiss me. And kiss me.
I break away, shaking my head, âNobody in 12 moves in together until theyâre married.â
He kisses me again, smiling.
A month later he gets down on one knee.
The details of our wedding are broadcast throughout all of Panem, but we donât care. This isnât for their entertainment. The tradition in District 12 is that youâre not truly married until you toast with bread in your new home, so once all of the cameras leave, we toast with bread and pronounce our love to each other. That night, I find myself underneath him for the first time.
Effie writes us letters, congratulating us on our marriage and saying she is so thrilled that weâve found happiness.
We talk about children, but both of us know that we can never bring a child into this world.
When the mine explosion happens, Haymitch is sent into a terrible spiral for months. He doesnât attend Burdockâs funeral. I do. I tell his little girls that they are going to be okay. The oldest looks just like him.
Haymitch starts drinking again, and is afraid to even be around me for weeks. He believes that Snow orchestrated the explosion, and I donât know if I disagree.
One day months later, I come home from buying bread in the square, and Haymitch is sitting at the dining room table. He cries, apologizing over and over again to me. For pushing me away again, for losing control of his drinking, for everything. He swears he wonât let it get that bad again. We spend the evening holding hands and crying together.
We spend more time in the meadow again after that. It helps take his mind off of the horrors that heâs experienced. He helps me take my mind off of my own.
Itâs early one morning when we decide to escape for the day, having a picnic while the sun comes up. He kisses me, again and again, until Iâm breathless beneath him.
âI love you like all-fire,â I whisper to him while he makes love to me.
He groans into my neck, pressing gentle kisses everywhere, âI love you like all-fire,â he repeats.
We lay there all day, gasping each others names and desperately announcing our love.
When Burdockâs daughterâs name gets drawn at the Reaping, I nearly faint on stage. Haymitch keeps me stable. The older daughter volunteers. For the next few days I am terrified that weâve done something to upset Snow. That this is him showing us that he will always control us. But, she wins. And sheâs defied the Capitol.
Three years later, the Capitol has fallen. We are finally free. We donât move out of our home in District 12, but now we have neighbors. Watching Katniss and Peeta fall in love reminds us of ourselves years ago.
We have a son now. I found out that I was pregnant with him right after we moved into District 13. He was born shortly after we got back home to District 12 with the help of Astrid.
His name is Ash. He is the light of our lives.
Late at night, we look back and reflect on everything weâve gone through to get here, and I couldnât be more proud of how far weâve come.
when they got Peeta back from the Capitol, do you think Haymitch was terrified that they'd be getting a body double?
The fact that Katniss thought hijacked Peeta was seeing her for who she actually was, is so heartbreaking. đ
