The Mentor - A Hunger Games Story

4 - AFTER

"If one more person pricks me with a needle, I will break your neck!" Haymitch screamed, sending all of the medical techs dashing away from his table. He was in a high-tech medical facility, he assumed somewhere in the capital. His shirt was removed, and a large scar etched down his chest, almost to his belly button. Axes will do that to you.

He had been in the facility for over two weeks now, being pricked and treated like a prized dog. He would have a Victor's interview, and then his Victory tour. But apparently before all that, President Snow himself was coming to speak with him soon.

The medical crew tried to get him to look better for the meeting, but he knew he looked like he'd be shit out and shit out again. He glanced in a mirror and didn't recognize himself. He had lost at least fifteen pounds, and had more scratches and bruises on his face than he could count.

His favorite doctor, Dr. Louis, approached him. Dr. Louis was from District Three. He had been flown in to help with Haymitch's terrible condition. Apparently they picked him up from the arena, half alive and guts spilling out.

"Hey, how are we feeling?"

"Like I was run over by one of the capital tanks."

"That would check out." Dr. Louis was young, barely seven years older than Haymitch. He had close cropped brown hair and glasses that sat on his nose. He loomed over Haymitch's sick bed, at least 6'5". "President Snow is on his way over."

"What does he even want?" Haymitch sipped a juice box.

"Probably just to congratulate you for your Victory and wish you a speedy recovery." Dr. Louis grabbed the juice from Haymitch's hand and sipped it.

"Hey!"

"Want me to stay here for it?"

"Yes please. Although you are a juice-box stealer, I refuse to be alone with that demon."

"Careful." Dr. Louis whispered, handing the juice back to him.

In a few minutes, Haymitch heard elevator doors ding a few sections of the medical wing away. Dr. Louis pulled up two chairs next to the bed, one for him, one for the president.

President Snow came around the corner, Haymitch leaning forward to take a good look at him.

He was almost sixty, but held himself like he was still a youthful teen. Back straight, arms crossed over a simple sports jacket. He had brown hair with speckles of while in it, which was nearly buzzed. He had a few security guards with him, but they stayed several feet back.

"President Snow." Dr. Louis stood, greeting the president with a large fake smile. "I am Dr. Louis, from the Third District. I have the pleasure of introducing you to our fiftieth Hunger Games victor, Haymitch Abernathy."

Stuck in his bed, Haymitch just awkwardly waved, but didn't smile.

"Excellent." Snow's voice was deep and chilling. "Thank you, Dr. Louis. If we could have a few minutes?"

Dr. Louis' face didn't change. "Oh, Haymitch is not stable yet, so I can't leave him in case of an emergency." The lie slipped easily off his tongue.

Snow smiled, but it looked more like he was just trying to show Dr. Louis his teeth.

"That is fine."

The President sat down in the chair next to the bed, and Dr. Louis sat in the other. The latter cast Haymitch a look of reassurance.

"Mr. Abernathy, congratulations." The President said simply. He locked onto Haymitch's eyes with his own dark ones.

"Thank you, sir." Haymitch hated the formalities, but he knew who he was speaking to. Now was not the time for sass.