Haymitch's story
Olivia. That was all I thought about. You're doing it for her.
"Haymitch, District 11 is waiting," Joy, my stylist, said.
You're almost home.
"I'll be right there. Just let me practice my speech one more time," I lied.
What speech?
"Fine. Two minutes." Then she left.
I'll just wing it.
I stared off into space and thought about the Hunger Games.
It's cruel. You never really win, do you?
I decided not to think about it. I got off of my bed and looked down at what I was wearing for District 11. A blue suit with black shoes. Fancy.
I walked to the entrance of District 11's stage.
"Remember, smile. At least try. Wait, don't smile, you always look like your demented when you smile. Okay, I'm sure you will do great, so don't worry. Don't worry," Joy told me. It sounded like she was trying to calm herself, she did that when we were in the last 10 districts.
"Don't worry, I'll be fine," I reassured her. She ruffled my hair and I stepped towards the door.
When they opened, all I could see were the people. Thousands of them. None of them smiling. In the front row were the families of the district 11 tributes. Dead. As I walked out, I didn't smile. There were peacekeepers next to the door, five on each side.
Why were they here? It's not like they care about me.
I took a deep breath and started talking.
"Um, hi," I started. I could hear Joy whimpering at my poor introduction. I continued,
"I know that you don't care to see me here. You wish that the victor was from district 11. I do too. I can't give you the food, or the riches that every one of you deserves. I can't. I would, but I can't. You probably think I'll go on and on about how winning feels, but I can't. It hurts to know that I won the Hunger Games. It does. You never really win, do you? You either die, or you live, but with the guilt of killing an innocent being. Even if you don't kill, it still stings, because you couldn't do anything about those deaths. So don't think I'm like those other dumb victors. They can't see what's important. I can. I see every one of you. You are the whole reason the Capitol lives. Remember that. And remember what the Capitol has done for you. Nothing." I had pour as much anger into those word that I felt was necessary. Everyone just stared at me, the little fourteen-year-old boy that won, not with strength, nor force, but with brains. And that killed someone.
"Thank you," I finished. When I walked back to Joy, she looked mad, but it was hard to tell with her pink skin.
"Why couldn't you say something else like to did at the other districts about winning?" she asked. She was mad.
"This district is different," I said, and with that, I went to get ready for the big dinner.
I didn't eat anything at dinner. I wasn't hungry. I was mostly worried.
Why didn't the peacekeepers take me away after that speech?
I looked around and saw that there were two peacekeepers patrolling every door. There was no way out. I just sat at a table and waited.
My gloomy mood changed when I saw a girl with brown hair and hazel coming towards me.
My girlfriend was wearing a plain white dress, simple. That was one of the reasons that I loved her.
