Rosemary Acker was pronounced victor of the 55th annual Hunger Games, however she didn't feel like a victor. The trauma and horrors of the games continues to haunt her for many years to come. Watching her friends die one by one, under the hands of P...
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Porter had been consumed by worry throughout the entire morning. The events of the party the previous night had left her deeply unsettled. Rosemary's behavior had been markedly different, and although she tried to attribute it to the understandable fear stemming from the occasion, she couldn't shake the feeling that something else was amiss. Repeatedly, she had knocked on Rosemary's apartment door, each attempt met with silence. Desperation began to creep in, but Porter refused to give up. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob, when she noticed that the door was slightly ajar. A sense of unease prickled at the back of her mind, but concern for her friend pushed her forward.
Pushing the door open cautiously, she called out, "Rosemary, are you here?" No response reached her ears, but as she ventured further into the apartment, a faint snoring sound emanated from the living room. Porter followed the sound and discovered Haymitch, of all people, asleep on the couch.
Porter was taken aback by his presence. She had been aware of the letter he had sent to Rosemary, but she never expected to find him sleeping in her apartment. She approached the couch and gently shook Haymitch.
"Haymitch, wake up," Porter said softly.
Haymitch stirred, his eyes slowly fluttering open. "Oh, Porter. Hey, sweetheart," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "What's up?"
"I came to see Rosemary," Porter explained. "Is she here?"
Haymitch glanced around, then sat up, letting out a groggy yawn. "I don't know."
Porter surveyed the apartment, and her heart sank as she took in the chaotic scene. Clothes were strewn across the floor, and a heavy smell of alcohol lingered in the air. Her concern for Rosemary deepened.
"Did you see her last night?" Porter inquired, her voice laced with worry.
Haymitch nodded slowly. "Yeah, but she was a total wreck."
Porter's anxiety grew with each passing moment. "Do you have any idea where she might be?"
Haymitch shrugged, his expression mirroring her uncertainty. "Maybe in her room?"
Porter hurried to check Rosemary's room, but it too was empty. Returning to the living room, she sat down on a chair, running a hand through her hair in frustration. She felt utterly helpless, not knowing what had transpired the previous night but sensing that Rosemary needed help. Determined, Porter decided to remain in the apartment and wait for her friend's return, praying that she would come back soon.
"Did you know she doesn't eat?" Haymitch remarked, turning his attention to Porter.
"I noticed, yes," Porter replied with concern in her voice.
"What are we going to do?" Haymitch asked, rising from the couch and stretching his arms.
"We'll just have to keep an eye on her," Porter suggested, her determination unwavering.
