One Last Game -Haymitch Abernathy-

Chapter 23

Amelia never liked the cold. She always found it painful, and it reminded her of her games. The snow matted with the blood of allies and enemies would replay over and over inside her head. She hoped there would come a day when the memories no longer haunted her. Perhaps the day would come when she was older.

Maybe she would one day forget all the painful memories of her youth. Maybe that day would never come. The answer would be provided with time. For now, she was forced to remember every haunting detail of what happened to her. The only good news was that it could never happen again. Her games had long been over, and she would never have to step foot in an arena again. However, she would continue to mentor children and watch as they faced the games.

She wrapped a red scarf around her neck, tugging at the black jacket she wore. Today was their first day back. The train had arrived early in the morning, but Amelia was determined to make the most of the day. She planned to venture to The Hob, the black market in her district. Amelia always brought all of her money, wanting to give it back to the community any way she could. It was the only benefit of Capitol money. At least others could benefit from her games.

Amelia caught sight of Haymitch in the kitchen. He was preparing to pour himself a glass of whiskey. She moved quickly and gracefully. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, preventing him from pouring anything into his cup. At the feeling of her fingers, he laughed. "And here I thought I was going to enjoy a nice cup of coffee in peace." Haymitch set the bottle on the counter and turned around to face her.

"It's not just coffee." She sighed, "I wish you would stop drinking so much."

Haymitch set the mug down. "I'm working on it."

That's what he always said. "You say that, and yet nothing changes. I fear I may be dead before I ever see you sober."

He let out a faint chuckle, not enjoying the idea. "Would never happen, darling." Amelia stared at him. "Going somewhere?" He fiddled with her scarf.

"The market," her response was quick. "Why don't you join me?" Haymitch hated venturing outside of his home. He preferred to spend every day inside. He only ever left when Amelia asked him to. The only reason he agreed was because he hated saying no to her. "Please? It would be nice to get out for a while."

Haymitch wanted to argue that they just got back, but he didn't. "Sure, sweetheart. Let me grab a jacket and put on some shoes."

Amelia smiled at him. She knew he hated leaving, but he always went for her. "Thank you." She stepped onto her toes and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Without wasting a second, she walked towards the front to wait for him.

She opened the front door, feeling the cold breeze from outside. It was only midday, and there was plenty of time left. Amelia thought about preparing dinner for herself and Haymitch. She made a mental note to stop by the bakery where Peeta currently was. "You know," Haymitch searched for his shoes. "This place is a mess."

"It's your house," she laughed. "And I put them under the bench." Haymitch trudged down the hall to where she said they were. Amelia stepped outside, wanting to get used to the cold air. She went to ask him a question when a gunshot rang out. Her heart stopped in her chest as she spun around. "What was that?" It was clear what it was. There was a second gunshot, and Amelia found herself dashing down the steps.

"Amelia!" Haymitch hadn't put on his shoes. She ignored him, running quickly towards the noise. Something was wrong. The people of District 12 didn't carry weapons. That meant there were Peacekeepers here, and that wasn't a good sign. She had to find Peeta, who was at his bakery.

Her feet slammed against the earth below, the cold now long forgotten. She was moving at a remarkable speed towards where the sound had come from. There was screaming and loud vehicles. Amelia turned the corner and found her steps faltering. Peacekeepers were raiding the Hob and the surrounding buildings. They were burning anything and everything they could get their hands on. Someone ran into her, and her scarf was knocked off. It was trampled by the feet rushing past her.