His Quell

II: The Night Before

                        District 12 was notoriously humid throughout most of the year. The only relief would be during the winter when blankets of snow would fall and transform the district into a beautiful white wonderland. Although, it wouldn't last long. It would become a dark sludge as it mixed with the dirt and coal dust under people's feet. That respite, however, was still months away.

A layer of sweat dampened Haymitch's skin as he sat alone on the doorstep. Every now and again a breeze would cool him before quickly disappearing and leaving him to endure the heat once more. He had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up as far as they would go. He had been tempted to cut them off completely, but he knew couldn't afford to ruin on of the few shirts that were still in one piece.

The doorstep he sat on lead to a dark and empty street. He could see the flickers from lanterns that provided the only source of light. The electricity in this district was unpredictable at the best of times and blackouts were an often occurrence. However, it had been turned off on purpose tonight. Televising the Reaping the following day would require a lot of power, so they had to save what little they had. Or at least that was what they claimed.

It wasn't usually busy during the evenings, but there was almost no-one around. Tonight, it seemed that everyone had decided to stay at home. It was time they were using for reflection and, for some, prayer. It was possibly the last chance to act as a complete family before their children would be raffled off and, if they're unlucky, sent to fight to the death. This year, that chance was even greater.

"Shouldn't you be with your own family?" a female voice spoke from the doorway behind him. In the corner of his eye he could see its owner sit down beside him.

"Probably" Haymitch mumbled. He could picture his mother stood in the hallway waiting for him to get him. A lecture would likely be awaiting him as well.

"You should really be with them tonight" she pressed gently. Even though he wasn't looking at her, Haymitch could feel her eyes watching him. He didn't want to look at her and at the sad expression he knew she would be wearing.

He let out a sigh. "I will. I just wanted to say goodbye first".

"I will. I just wanted to say goodbye first". Against his better judgement he forced his eyes to meet hers. He brushed her curly black hair out of her face so he could see her better. Just as he had predicted, her amber eyes showed sadness and heartbreak. No matter how hard she tried, Haymitch could read her like a book. "It won't be forever, Farren. We'll both be back here tomorrow afternoon to continue our boring lives".

They went through this the night before the Reaping for the past three years. Every year Farren was convinced that her name would be drawn. It was Haymitch's job to calm her worries, even if he didn't believe his words himself. He could only hope that they would ring true. It had worked thus far.

"But there's double the amount of-"

"You won't get picked. Neither of us will. Four tributes will be chosen out of hundreds. We'll both be fine" he reassured.

"You better be right or so help me".

"I wouldn't have it any other way" he grinned.

Haymitch's house was a carbon copy of the other houses in the area. It was located near the border of the Seam and the Merchants section. Although it still counted as the Seam, it's location meant that it was a lot nicer than those further on. It was still in one piece at least. However, on closer inspection it was clear that it wasn't in the best condition. The wood that composed the front door was starting to rot, but a coat of paint made it almost invisible. The metal door handle was rusted and Haymitch had to hold it gently. If he turned it too quickly it would fall off again. It was a pain to put back on last time.