'there is happiness
past the blood and bruise
past the cursed and cries
beyond the terror in the nightfall'
• where olwyn laurier
will do anything to protect
...
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chapter ten
BONES CREAKED AND ached under shaky, stick-like arms, breaths heaved from chapped lips, and eyes were left squinting and rimmed red from harsh fluorescent lights. The feelings of withdrawal had hit Olwyn Laurier hard, her body shaking under the intense sensations. Her feet felt numb, blanket wrapped tightly around her as the girl stumbled with unsteady legs into the foyer
Quiet surrounded her, the space appearing to be dead. Yet, as observant as ever, Olwyn sensed someone in the dining hall and crept over to investigate. Poking her head around the corner, the girl saw Haymitch, shoulders hunched in worry and brow knitted in thought. In all honesty, The man looked far older than she remembered, his increasing age reflected harshly back into her eyes. His sandy-blonde hair was still as long as ever, but it had thinned significantly. Grey pieces highlighted his hairline, while sandpaper-like stubble christened his jaw. Lines harshly cut into his face, giving him a withered, gaunt-like expression. The girl had too noticed how saggy the man's clothes had become, his frame shrinking before her very eyes. Alcohol had made his skin give off a pale yellow tinge. But what stuck out the most to Olwyn, was the man's eyes. Over the years she had known him, they'd changed. The once shades of steely slate and ash had become dull flint and silver, accompanied by deep wrinkles that showed the mental battle Haymitch Abernathy fought with himself, the demons inside him, and the demons he was addicted to since the moment he was thrust into a lonely life of being a victor.
It all worried Olwyn. Never before had she thought Haymitch could get old, just like everyone else. And she didn't think it would happen so soon. But here, only two years after her own games, she could see the man was greying by the day. And in reality, this terrified her. Losing Haymitch wasn't something that could happen, not in her mind. If anything, she'd go before he did. However, his fatigued features told a different story. Sure, the man had a couple of decades left, but never before had Olwyn thought of a time without Haymitch. The idea of it scared her, enough for her to swallow them down and return her focus to the man.
She watched as he slowly poured a drink from his flask, swirled it with a flick of his wrist, and downed the contents with a pained grunt. Beginning to back away, Olwyn pulled the quilt tighter around her, planning on exiting with swift feet.
"Ollie", the man spoke, eyes taking in her shaking figure. He sighed at the haunted look in her eyes and her pale skin making her look like a ghost in the light. Snow had once told Haymitch he had a "dead girl walking" on his hands. Back then, Haymitch thought he meant her rebellious nature but now really, that phrase was the epitome of the teenager, coming down off a morphling high as it rattled her bones. "Sit down, we're gonna talk", he told her.
Haymitch's tone left no room for discussion and so Olwyn slowly walked to a chair, carefully sitting down all whilst avoiding her former mentor's harsh gaze. His Seam-grey eyes bored into her, almost challenging her to speak. This continued for a while until the stalemate crumbled and the older man pushed a plate of food in front of the girl. Mumbling something under his breath, Haymitch blew air out of his mouth in a sigh before leaning back.
