The Mentor - A Hunger Games Story

13 - DURING

Haymitch was losing it.

He could feel himself losing it.

He had never not been able to string together his thoughts. Never not been able to pull himself together despite circumstances. He always just screamed at his brain to move on and come up with a new plan.

But as he ran back to the barrier, his mind rattled in his head like a bird in cage.

He tripped, the image of the deadly pink birds popping into his head. Then Maislee, covered in her own blood, trying to breath.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Haymitch breathed out, grabbing at his hair, trying to pull himself back into reality. He was one clearing away from his bag, water, his weapons. He just had to get there. He couldn't be here unarmed.

He buried his face into the grass, wanting to disappear. He wanted to hide. He wanted to crawl into his own skin and burrow.

"Fuck. Okay. Fuck." He sat back up on his knees, trying to reign himself in. But his heart rate was through the roof, and his breathing was uneven. He couldn't get a grip on reality.

That's when another cannon went off.

He jumped to his feet, mostly out of shock.

His feet pushed him forward towards the barrier.

There were two of them left. There was one other tribute in the arena, no doubt being guided right towards him. In this state, a baby could kill him.

He stumbled into the clearing, grabbing his knife as quickly as he could. It had caked blood on it, which had never bothered him. But now all he could see was the blood squirting out of Maislee_

He clenched over and vomited into the grass and on his shoes.

"Fuck. Fuck." He said louder, feeling rage take over his shock. "This is_" He muttered, wiping his mouth and trying to rub the blood off his knife without looking at it. He couldn't even come up with the word. Not only was he in shock, but his body started to shake harder due to throwing up his guts not a few seconds before.

He knelt to the ground, clenching at the grass.

He whipped around when he heard crunching coming from the west. He shriveled into himself as more pink birds left the cluster of trees and flew into the sky. As if they were running from something.

"Those fucking pink fucking birds." An angry female voice rang through the trees, less than one hundred yards from Haymitch.

He tried to get to his feet, but the sight of the birds again made his legs jelly. His mind screamed at him. Whose voice was that? Who was even left in the arena? As of a few hours ago he had a list of everyone remaining and probabilities of running into them. And if so, how he could beat them. But now it was blank. He had no clue who was coming.

The figure emerged from the trees. She was tall, muscular, and covered in cuts. She was covered in blood and limping. In her hand she held a large handaxe.

Shara from District 1 had survived until the very end.

She fixed her eyes on Haymitch across the clearing, like an animal locating their prey.

"It's time to end this." She said, mostly to herself. She was terribly hurt, with a long cut along her neck. "You ran all the way out here, you little coward." She sniped at him. "The fucking birds cornered me and forced me this way."

Haymitch shook to his feet, gripping his knife with both hands. He had nothing left. He inched backwards, aware of the barrier behind him.

The birds came to force the other tributes towards him. He had run as far as he could, and the birds were the Capital's answer. The same birds that killed his friend.

"I can't_" He shuddered, watching Shara stalk towards him. "I tried so hard." He knew it was his last chance to say anything to those watching him from home. He so badly wanted to somehow say goodbye to Aimee, but he hoped she wasn't even watching. "I tried to not make it my last day. I did, baby." He was hysterical. He looked like a bumbling idiot. He couldn't imagine what Harrison was feeling right now. "You're not a Downgrade, bud. You're the 2.0." The cheesiest fucking thing ever, but he knew he had to say it. Harrison needed something to hang onto.

"Shut up." Shara scolded, holding up her hand ax. "I'll make this quick."

"Okay." Haymitch nodded, dropping his knife. He was done.

He saw her release the ax in slow motion. His instincts kicked in and he felt himself fall onto the ground, narrowly dodging the weapon.

He buried his face on the ground, ready for the second attack.

But all that he heard was a muffled slice, and the clunk of a body on the ground. He whipped his head up to see Shara dead next to him. Her own ax was indented in her head, propelled back at her by the forcefield.

Haymitch pulled himself away from her body, blinking away tears.

He won.

Some sort of announcement came on, but he didn't hear it. He clung to the grass for dear life, scratching his arms with his fingernails to just feel something.

He threw up one more time, and then blacked out.