The Hunger Games ~ Peeta's POV

Chapter 3

Ch. 3

I take one look at Haymitch and can hardly resist the urge to vomit. The mess is all doused in his hair, and by the looks of it, he can't clean himself. As if on cue, Katniss and I each grab an arm and prop him up into a slouched standing position.

"I tripped?" asks Haymitch. "Smells bad." I'll bet it does. He tries to wipe his nose, but all he does is get more of the barf on his face.

"Let's get you back to your room," I suggest, as if talking to a small child. "Clean you up a bit."

We both support Haymitch's weight as we drag him down the hallway and into his room. We drop him into the bathtub and he moans. He seems oblivious to the shower water raining down on him, washing all traces of his mess from his hair and clothes.

I get one look at Katniss's face, and I can tell that she doesn't want to do this anymore than I do. Her nose is all wrinkled up into a grimace; so she smells it, too...

"It's okay," I tell her. "I'll take it from here." I spare her poor self from having to suffer.

"Alright." Her grimace relaxes some, smoothing out her face to almost normal. "I'll send one of the Capitol people to help you."

Even just the thought of one of the Capitol people helping me is repulsive, no matter how much I took delight in having the opportunity to leave or be done that much quicker. Making them clean up Haymitch is a sort of vengeance, and I don't believe in vengeance; it just isn't right. My mentor is my responsibility, as backwards as that sounds.

"No. I don't want them," I respond simply. She nods, understanding, and leaves the room. I sigh once she's out of earshot, turning back to what I came to do.

I stare at Haymitch- he's a mess. I don't know where to start, so I begin with washing the bile out of his hair with shampoo. I can tell that he hasn't eaten in a while, because most of the vomit is liquid, probably digested liquor. I turn the water pressure on higher and pick up the shower head to rinse everything out of his clothes with some soap. After a while, I give up trying, and strip him down and repeat. I grab some towels and clothing from his room and dress and dry him. His eyes are open, and he stands up, but I can tell by the look on his face that when morning comes he'll remember nothing. I lay him down in his bed and toss a couple of blankets on him. He mumbles something incoherent, and then he's out like a light.

I glance around at the pigsty of a room, filled with dirty clothes everywhere and half empty liquor bottles. I make a face in disgust and gather all of them up, just to give myself something to do. I pour all of the liquor down the drain, and make a clothes pile in the corner of the room. I know he'll get more booze, but they can't have unlimited alcoholic drinks on this train, can they?

I leave, and make the too-long walk back to my compartment. When I get there, I think. About Mother and Father, and my older brothers. Would they have the shop running today, filled with the smells of warm bread? Or would they have closed it for the day without giving it a second thought? They possibly are asleep, but I doubt it. Not after a day like today, filled with goodbyes and weeping. I'm not the best reason to cry about, but we're talking about death, so I can imagine the pain bouncing through our little house tonight. Death is terrifying to anyone, especially if it's about to give someone you love a visit.

I recall a summer that I had been too bored to work in the shop, and I was about eight. The electric fence was off, and even though I had been warned about the dangers of leaving District 12, still, I had never been outside the fence before... I found a wide crack big enough for me to slip through, and I did. The fireflies had just begin to appear, so I ventured into the old forests, catching fireflies and putting them in my pockets, watching them light up the night well after dark. It was probably about nine when I decided to go back, and I was getting tired. I heard a light humming in the air when I got near the fence and I froze- the fence was on. I spent the night out there listening to animals howl in the distance, terrified they would come for me, you know, being eight and all. But what I was scared most of would be calling for help, because the Capitol would surely punish my own family, too. I slept in the woods that night, crying. When the fence finally turned off, I sobbed my way home and into my trembling parent's arms. They had wept all night, thinking I was dead or kidnapped for sure.