Fire in her Eyes

Chapter 2

Willow, I don't think you should spend any more time with Titus. My father's request floats around my mind as I walk side by side with Titus. I usually try to listen to him but his request is so ridiculous that I can't possibly follow it.

"So you grew up in district 2?" I ask, peering up at him. He was quite a bit taller than me, probably more than half a foot above me and yet he was still shorter than his father. He nods.

"Yeah. My parents were born here though. They said a couple months ago it was finally time to go back to where they belong." He replies.

"I've never seen any other district than this one. What's it like in 2?"

"Well they're still struggling to fall into a rhythm without the assistance of the Capitol and the people aren't very kind there but its alright. Its like here, except that they harvest stones instead of coal."

"You'll be glad to know that the people here are very nice-" I look up and see that we're heading towards where the Hob used to be. People still traded there, but it wasn't so much a black market anymore because it wasn't illegal or punishable by death now. I see the woman that sells bottles of alcohol, frowning at a rather drunk Haymitch. "Ugh, excuse me. I have to talk to Haymitch."

I jog towards Haymitch who smells so strongly of alcohol, it chokes me and makes my eyes water when I stand near him. His tangled, sandy hair lying in wisps over his forehead, he blinks confusedly at me when I take him by the arm and try to drag him away.

"My alcohol...she won't...she won't sell it to me." He stutters drunkenly.

"Come on, Haymitch. Haven't you got enough liquor at home?" I ask. He shakes his head, then he pulls a bottle out of the woman's hands and takes a long swig out of it. I hate when people -especially Haymitch- drink, they smell awful and do stupid things and forget all about it the next day. I feel bad when I take away Haymitch's alcohol because I know it's how he escapes his past and the Games that haunt him every day but he's already too drunk to walk and I can't let him make a public embarrassment out of himself because Haymitch is a decent man when he's not heavily intoxicated.

"Let's get you home, all right? I think you should sleep off all the alcohol you drank." I tell him.

"Get your damn hands off me." He slurs, but I just continue to pull him in the general direction of his home, in the Victor's Village near our home. Haymitch suddenly falls limp to the floor, passed out drunk.

"Come on, Haymitch. Really?" I sigh in frustration, Haymitch lies on his side and doesn't seem to be waking up anytime soon. Titus came up next to me, a stupid grin on his face and together we pulled Haymitch up. We pulled him into his house, a mess that even the whole city couldn't fix, littered with empty bottles and clothes and just an insurmountable amount of trash covered the floor. I call out for Effie, Haymitch's wife, but she's nowhere to be found. Around my tenth birthday, Haymitch and Effie got married after a lifetime of refusing to admit they loved each other. My mother and father, after the ceremony, told them that the wedding was long overdue. Ever since then Haymitch stopped drinking perennially and Effie stopped being -what he referred to as- a stick up his rear. Effie now resides mostly in the house next to Haymitch's, she's been working on the interior design so they could move into it by next year.

"What a mess. Can you get him to couch? I'm going to try to clean things up." I tell Titus, who nods and takes the limp, drunk idiot that we call Haymitch to the couch. I begin the horrendous task of cleaning up Haymitch's home.

"I can tell you're a good person." Titus says, joining me in collecting the numerous liquor bottles from the floor.

"How?"