The Hunger games - I'm still breathing (Everlark)

Chapter 22

Alcohol is a thing of miracles. Everything you feel can be wiped clean and made new. The problem will always still be there of course, the poison could never erase it completely. But for a little while, things don't seem too bad.

Half a bottle of vodka down the line and I am floating on air. I don't remember why I came to Haymitch crying. I know something bad happened today but right now, I couldn't care less. I am thriving on the unknown past, present and future that I own. The biggest problem I have right now is Haymitch not letting me drink anymore. I'm on my knees begging him because that's another thing that alcohol does, it takes away your dignity.

Haymitch, who seems surprisingly sober today, is regretting giving me the bottle. I can see it in his eyes. He's afraid of Peeta finding me in this state, I can see that too. I'm not afraid of Peeta though, nothing he could say or do would hurt me right now. The same goes for the voices, they could scream vicious profanities at me and I wouldn't feel a thing. They would only bounce of the armour of numbness the alcohol has built around me. I am untouchable.

Haymitch is trying to force water down my throat but I know that this is one of his schemes to get me to sober up. I don't want that. I will not let him control me again. I'm not playing a part in his games anymore, this time the game is mine. The main goal of this game is to stay alive and in this very moment, the alcohol is what I need to do to reach that goal. As soon as my head is clear, my problems are going to come crashing back down at full force. I'm not ready for that yet. I need another drink.

"Haymitch I need it!" I plead, hitting the glass of water out of his hands. It smashes on the floor making the most beautiful sound I've heard all day. The sound echoes inside of me, threatening to carry me away until Haymitch's ugly voice breaks through it.

"It was supposed to be the boy's special day today, Katniss."

His words swim about my head in a jumble. I repeat the words to myself, seeing if I can get them to make sense. But they don't. Haymitch gave me the bottle, knowing what I wanted it for. Why is he now singly blaming me for this whole mess?

"You're a hypocrite," I slur. "How can you sit there and say that to me when you have been drunk on so many special days?" The alcohol gives me an intense anger that I've never felt before.

"It is my way of dealing with things!" he yells, dangerously close to my face.

"Well maybe it's my way too now," I say stubbornly. I know that it is a lie as soon as it leaves my lips. I could never become what Haymitch is; I could never live my life through the curtainy haze that the drink gives. All I'm asking for is tonight.

"That's not the life for you, Katniss. You have Peeta to think about. It's different for me, I don't have anyone," Haymitch says.

He knows how to pull my heartstrings.

"That's not true, Haymitch. You have me and Peeta and were only a house away if you need us," I say. I want to say more but I'm afraid I might cry.

"Not after tonight, Sweetheart. He's not going to talk to me again after I let you get in this state."

And because of the stupid thing called a conscience and the innate human nature to feel compassion, I ask Haymitch for another glass of water. I've hurt enough people in my time, I'm not about to add another person to that list.

No sooner have I put the glass to my lips than a knock comes from the door and we hear Peeta's desperate voice coming from behind it. Haymitch's eyes and mine meet with a stricken look of terror. He's going to go crazy when he sees me like this. Suddenly I am afraid, I'm very afraid of the affect my actions can have on Peeta. I tremble as I watch Haymitch walk over to the door and see him take a deep breath before he opens it.

Peeta comes rushing through the door as soon as it's opened.

"Is she here? I can't find her anywhere." His voice is high-pitched and sounds as panicked as I feel.

"She's in there," I hear Haymitch's gruff voice say.

He walks briskly through the doorway and throws himself at me, tightly wrapping me in his arms.

"You have got to stop running off and scaring me like that, I was worried that I would find you half-dead in the woods again!" he says.

I shake my head on his shoulder and the guilty tears begin to fall.

"I did something stupid though," I sob.

He pulls back to examine me. I try to focus on finding Peeta's real head out of the two that bob around in front of me. He recoils back and sighs when he smells the liquor on my breath.

"Are you drunk, Katniss?" he asks, his eyes disapproving.

I nod and cast my eyes to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Peeta. I'm so sorry," I stutter. I can feel the numbness ebbing away and the pain returning to its place.

When I meet Peeta's eyes again, I can see that they have softened.

"I'd rather you be here than out in the woods alone." I let out a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding. He's not mad? It feels like he's already forgiven me when he leans in and kisses my forehead. "Lets get you home," he says.

I stand up but it becomes evidently clear that I am not capable of walking in my current predicament. Peeta sweeps me up and I wrap my arms around his neck. He walks out of the front door, not uttering a word to Haymitch. I'll make everything okay for him in the morning, I think.

Peeta was right all along; the alcohol has only made my nightmares worse. Every time I close my eyes, Snow finds a new means of torture for Prim. I have no way of escaping this hell, no way of waking up with the heaviness the drink has put on my eyelids. I am stuck listening to Prim's deafening screams, knowing that there is nothing that I can do about it. Several times Peeta has to shake me out of the dark and even then the world is spinning so much I'm not convinced that the nightmare has ended.

I make out his quiet question in the dimness of my mind.

"Promise me you'll never do this to yourself again?"

I swallow back my tears and utter the only word I can muster.

"Never."