to win - haymitch abernathy

⁵⁹ 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉 𝑔𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈

There was something about dressing up in black, putting on your nicest shoes and brushing your hair two times more than usual. Picking out the sophisticated dress and a pair of dark nylon tights only for you to hope they'll not rip where it will be visible. Death had been a very close friend to Rosemary for several years, but it had been a while since they really had been in contact.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a somber hue across Rosemary's bedroom. She stood before the full-length mirror, her reflection a stark contrast to the vibrant woman she once was. There really was something about dressing up in black, putting on your nicest shoes, and brushing your hair two times more than usual that felt both ritualistic and heartbreaking. Her trembling hands picked out the sophisticated dress, a flowing, onyx-colored garment that seemed to absorb all the light around it. She slipped it on carefully, adjusting the fabric over the curves that once danced with life. The dress hung a little looser now, a testament to the weight of grief that had settled upon her. Dark nylon tights followed, a delicate barrier between her skin and the harsh reality awaiting her outside. She paused for a moment, scrutinizing the tights for any imperfections. Today really was the day she and death were to be reacquainted.

As she zipped up her dress, the sound echoed through the room, a lonely reminder of the emptiness she felt. Her reflection stared back at her with watery eyes, framed by her meticulously brushed hair, which hung straight and lifeless. Rosemary sighed, the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders. Walking toward the bedroom door, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her steps, as if the floor itself knew the occasion and mourned along with her. The hallway outside was adorned with old family photographs, some new ones. One in particular had Rosemary with Billy, Lina, Finch and Leslie goofing around in Porter's garden. It captured moments when laughter and joy still filled their lives. Those moments seemed like distant dreams now. Death may have been a close friend, but today, it felt like an unwelcome guest.

The funeral parlor was cloaked in a shroud of mournful silence, its walls adorned with somber shades of black and white, echoing the deep grief that had settled over District 5. Rows of empty chairs stretched before the casket, where Finch Crossly lay at rest. She was only sixteen, too young to die when the Hunger Games had claimed her life, and the weight of her untimely passing hung heavily in the air.

Rosemary stood among the mourners, her heart aching. Finch had been more than just another tribute to her, she had been a girl Rosemary had known since long before the Hunger Games had entered her life. Finch's dreams, her innocence, and her love for life had once been a shining beacon of hope, a stark contrast to the grim reality of Panem. She had loved Billy with her entire heart, wanting to share her future with the boy. Rosemary had watched their relationship blossom from friends to lovers, and seen the strength it had given Finch. Yet, despite her optimism, Finch chose to eat those berries, meeting her tragic ending. The last words to Rose being; I don't want to get killed. No one else than Rose knew that she had said that, and she intended on keeping it that way. However, the reality of it all left Rosemary grappling with an unreal loss. She thought District 5 might have had a chance for another survivor.

The room was filled with mourners, their faces etched with sorrow, each carrying their own memories of the girl who had been taken too soon. Rosemary knew they all shared in the pain, a collective grief that weighed heavily on their hearts.

The eulogist's words resonated throughout the parlor, painting a poignant portrait of Finch's life, her dreams, and the indomitable spirit that had defined her. It was a stark reminder of the fleeting nature of existence and the brutal reality of the Hunger Games, a reality that had claimed the life of a promising young soul.