Haymitch's Love: The Untold Story

Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Haymitch: The Victor

The relatively warm afternoon has turned to a cool evening, the sun sinking lower in the sky every moment, casting a luminous orange glow. The light breeze that feebly blows through the branches, rustling the leaves, only adds to the already disconcerting atmosphere. As soon as that gentle wind gusts against Haymitch's worn, sweaty face he can tell that this will be his last evening in the arena.

The two tributes stand, exhausted but erect, a dirt field separating them. The girl in front of Haymitch looks extremely fatigued and feral although determined and desperate. Her nostrils flair and she bares her pointed teeth as she impatiently fingers the blade of a blood-stained axe hanging from her belt. There is a crazed, maniac look in her eyes. Being from District One, she has most likely trained her entire life for this moment. If she dies, she fails everyone, bringing dishonor to her family and mentor.

Haymitch stares the girl down, his Seam eyes narrowed, bright and dangerous like that of a wild cat. This is the moment that he has been waiting for. Get it over with and he will be home before he knows it. He will be able to see his family. See Nemit. He stands straight and readies himself, adrenaline pumping through his entire body. You must win. You must not fail Nemit.

The girl eagerly makes the first move and Haymitch begins to see everything as if in slow motion. All of a sudden, the two are running wildly towards each other, weapons raised, through a cloud of dust that the wind has blown between them. This is it. District One verses Twelve. Career verses Seam.

She begins swiping madly at Haymitch with her axe. He dodges each swipe and retaliates by aiming a kick at her face. She ducks just in time and manages to punch him forcefully in the chest while he is off guard, knocking him backward. Next, the two roll on the ground with each other, the girl grunting in frustration. Her filthy, blond hair whips Haymitch in the face repeatedly, obscuring his vision. He grabs his knife and accidentally although successfully slices her right eye. She shrieks in pain and shock as blood pours from the socket onto Haymitch's already filthy face. He takes advantage of her moment of weakness by fiercely kicking her off of him, his foot colliding with her nose. He can distinctly hear the crunch of breaking bone.

He has angered this girl greatly. To her, it may seem as if Haymitch is making a fool of her. Mocking her strength. She grabs her axe and swipes him right in the stomach, a triumphant look spreading across her face. Immediately, Haymitch knows that she has done fatal damage. He feels nauseated and weak. He looks down to see himself soaked in deep red, blood gushing from him, a large, sticky puddle surrounding him on the ground. He almost vomits. Instead though, he buckles over to his knees and sends his arms flying to his midsection, holding in his intestines, which are threatening to fall out.

'You bitch!' He shrieks at her.

Tears streak down his face, although they go unnoticed, blending in with the dirt, sweat, and blood.

Haymitch begins to run, his knees bent, his body hunched, arms protecting his insides. He runs like never before in his life, blood spraying the trees as he goes. All he comprehends is that he needs to get as far away from this psycho as possible. She follows, laughing manically as he stumbles around the forest. He flees from her like a wounded, wild animal, pushing himself to go faster, willing the wind to carry him somewhere safe.

And then, he sees it in the distance. The rocky, misty cliff. The place where he broke off the alliance with Maysilee. But why have his feet carried him here? He pursues to this destination without much thought to it. No sooner does Haymitch take one step onto the stones does he tumble to the ground in a cloud of dust. He only has enough strength left to pull himself up so he is on his knees. The girl advances on him, her newly acquired wounds making her look madder than ever.

This is it, thinks Haymitch. Time to die. He knows that he is much too weak to put up anymore of a fight. He cannot even think about Nemit or his family. He is losing so much blood that the world is now spinning faster and faster, making him extremely dizzy. Make it stop, he thinks. His head is pounding harder than ever. He begins to shake violently. He cannot think, cannot breathe. Splotches of purple are dancing in the trees.

The only thing that Haymitch registers is a sharp metallic something flying through the air, missing his face by mere inches. He hears the familiar whooshing noise that the pebbles made while flying up from the force field. He hears a terrified, high-pitched scream like none other. He hears a sickening slicing noise. Then, silence. His cheek collides onto the rocks, splashing in a warm, sticky liquid.

Haymitch has passed out.