Catching Fire - Peeta's POV

Chapter 11 - Let Me Save Her

"Let him go! He's as good as dead anyway! A drunk life is a wasted life! You still have yours to live! He had his chance to prove to everyone he deserves life, and he failed! Please! Don't volunteer!" Screams Delly, her blonde hair frantic and standing at different angles. She screams for my life. Like I screamed for Katniss' in my lucid dream last year. I need Haymitch to let me save her.

I pull on my coat just the same, slide on my shoes just the same, and turn the brass doorknob just the same. Delly's screams don't reach me fully. I hear the noise. I just don't hear the words. I need Haymitch to let me save her.

Snow has begun to fall rapidly, like a switch of a Gamemaker has told the clouds to release all at once. Haymitch's house is two houses over, with Katniss' in between. As I am about to reach the side of her house, the door swings open, and she runs out of the door. She seems unsure about where to go, until eventually heading for one of the empty houses, smashing through the window on the way in. She doesn't notice me. I think about helping her, but I need to get to Haymitch first. I need Haymitch to let me save her.

When I gently tug the door open, the stink of liquor isn't strong yet. I cross through the dining room until I land in the dirty living room. Haymitch sits at the small table, about to open his first of many bottles he will drink to rid himself of this memory, when he spots me. 

"Let me finish a bottle first, then you can talk. I don't want to remember anything you have to say anyway." So he isn't drunk yet. Now is my time to talk before he can forget it. I swiftly grab the bottle as he's about to take a swig, and take a sip of my own. I decided I don't like it, not even knowing why I tasted it in the first place, before placing it in the kitchen. Haymitch fumbles around for another bottle, but I grab both his wrists, and easily resist his struggles to break free.

"Let go of me before I punch you harder than last time."

"Yeah, well wait until we get on the train. One of us is going back, Haymitch."

"So I heard." We wait until I decide to speak again.

"Unless I haven't made it clear, I want to be the tribute. You will mentor me and Katniss. Not the other way around."

"What, you and Katniss will mentor me?" He says sarcastically. But I don't want to wait around. He has to let me go.

"You chose Katniss over me. Now you must do whatever you say. You owe me that much." Again, I don't understand this owing business. But it seems to pull the right strings on Haymitch. He pulls me in close, close enough I can smell his reeking breath, before whispering in a low voice.

"You told me to save her. You told me to bring her home. You can't play that card on me. You were practically on your knees, asking me to save her life." I pull my face away from his, nauseous from the smell.

"Yeah, but you could've helped me survive longer. Given me medicine for my cut before it turned to blood poisoning. You could've told Katniss that we were allies. Use one of your secret messages so that I could've helped her as well. Instead, you forbid me into oblivion, leaving me to wish upon the star, the stars of all things, that she was alive." Haymitch wasn't expecting this. His cocky smirk turns into a guilty grimace, perhaps reliving his choice between the big, soft boy, or the small, smart, talented girl. "So when the reaping starts, here's what you're going to do. If I get chosen, you will let me be. Any pieces of guilt you will concentrate into your mentoring us. If you get chosen, I will volunteer in your place. You will stay sober, and mentor us and train us. If you stay drunk, and don't help because you think neither of us have a chance, our deaths will be in your hands. Forever and ever. And you will also know that you could've saved us, but you chose not to." His eyes fall to the floor, but I know he is listening to my every word like it will be my last. "Let me save her." At those four words, his head snaps up, and I catch a tear rolling down his cheek. Haymitch, crying? But I don't care. I need his promise. I need Haymitch to let me save her.

"Promise me you will let me save her!" I shout into his ear. And then, when his eyes lose the look that means drunk, he replies.

"Promise."

"You promise what?" I say, not yet content with his answer.

"I promise to let you save her."