#thereapedtwin

[drunkandsurly-blog]

Train to Hell | Maysilee & Haymitch

Outside of the escort, Maybelline, there is no one else to tell them how to behave, or to interact with each other. It's annoying and uncomfotable, but Haymitch doesn't care all that much, leaning back on the couch, listening to the oddly clothed woman talk and talk about the fashion in the Capitol and the splendor at the ceremonies they'd very soon be attending. All that's on Haymitch mind is the food, of which there is really a lot, ridiculously so even, and the fact that three out of four at least are going to be dead before the games are over.

When the woman drones on about sponsors and woo'ing the public, he knows it's time to get up and be done with the introduction. So he gets up from the couch and walks up to Maysilee, giving her a halfhearted grin as he grabs one of the cupcakes standing right in front of her. "Do you think we'll be getting a mentor assigned to us in the Capitol, or will it just be Blabbermouth for the four of us?" Haymitch looks behind him at the other two, a girl younger than Maysilee by the name of Jay and a very thin, pale looking boy by the name of Kael. His own odds start to look better already. 

[drunkandsurly-blog]

Starry Skies | Maysilee & Haymitch

Life in District 12 was never easy, but his best friend and the only girl he ever really noticed could make him forget about the hardships, the starvation and the coal mines, if only for a moment. No one else could do that for him and Haymitch couldn't help but be reminded of the first time he saw her, her hair cut to her shoulders and framing her cute face perfectly. There had been something radiant about her that called to him right away, but considering he had only been eight, he'd never known what it meant, not until when puberty hit and he found that he wanted to kiss her all the time. He never did though, valuing their friendship more than anything else in the world. 

"What are you thinking?" he asked the now sixteen year old girl, gazing down at her with open curiosity and a genuine affection he never really managed to conceal. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her lite frame in closer, waiting to hear more of her brilliant mind. Maysilee never really saw things the way he did, Haymitch being more realistic and sober in his views on life where hers made him ache to live in her world. "Do you see something in the stars I'm missing?" 

[drunkandsurly-blog]

Maysilee: Dead and Gone

                                         If I die young, bury me in satin                                         Lay me down on a bed of roses                                           Sink me in the river at dawn                                Send me away with the words of a love song

                                                                The Capitol had sent her home with him on the same train, the difference being that he was the only one still breathing. Haymitch couldn't get her out of his mind, having felt all these feelings stir for her in the last days they spent together, despite knowing they could never be. It only made it harder and whenever he would close his eyes, the faces of those he killed flashing behind his closed lids, she would always be the first and the last he saw, lingering as if a part of him hoped that by holding onto the image she might return to him. 

Although he didn't dare to strip her, he did open Maysilee's coffin and placed the satin gown she had worn on the interview over her like a blanket, covering the plain white dress they'd put her in. She deserved to be buried in more than just the Capitol's rags, and she had looked beautiful in the violet dress. More beautiful than any girl he'd ever met. 

As soon as the train arrived, District 12 not having changed at all where everything in Haymitch's life had been turned upside down, he let the Peacekeepers handle her body while he forced a smile onto his face, waving at the people cheering for him while they should have been mourning Maysilee instead. 

Darkness had fallen already by the time he was escorted back to the Victor's village to take residence in his newly earned house, where his parents and little brother were already waiting for him. It wasn't where he wanted to be and as soon as they stopped fussing, he found his way to the small graveyard near the fence. They hadn't even given him the chance to attend the funeral, which worsened his mood. Luckily, he had found several bottles of whiskey from his father in the house and he drank from it eagerly, to bury the rage, the grief --the helplessness. 

Pressing his back against the stone her name was graved into, along with the dates of her birth and demise, he heaved an audible sigh. "I shouldn't have let you go." Haymitch didn't say anything else as he pulled a little bag from his jacket pocket, one of those his mother used for her garden and athough he couldn't tell what flower seeds they were, he still planted them all around her grave. It was only weeks later that he would recognize them as white pianeses. 

Only when there was nothing left for him to plant, did he look up and put his hand on top of the stone. "I should never have left you there for the careers to find." It was all his fault. Taking another deep swig from the bottle, he managed a smile that was completely heartbroken rather than an expression of glee. "I'd been trying to survive, but for you, I could have died." And then Haymitch finished the bottle, the first one he drank for a purpose, with a reason. Maysilee. 

                                               In Memoriam:

                                             Maysilee Donner