to win - haymitch abernathy

²⁸ 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉𝓎 𝒶𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉

Rosemary couldn't shake off the lingering weight of the conversation she had with Haymitch earlier that day. It was a conversation that left her with a gnawing sense of unease, like a cold, heavy stone lodged in the pit of her stomach. She knew Haymitch was a complex character, veiled in a shroud of mystery that seemed impossible to penetrate. She had heard rumors, whispers in the dimly lit corners of District 12, but none of them painted a clear picture of the man.

To say Haymitch Abernathy was a "bad" person might have been an oversimplification, but it was a notion she couldn't dismiss entirely. There was an air of recklessness about him, a sense that he operated on the fringes of society, detached from the norms and expectations that governed the lives of the residents of the district. He was an enigma wrapped in a puzzle, and Rosemary was determined to decipher his secrets. The first thing she noticed about him was his conspicuous absence from the company of girls, and even boys for that matter. Haymitch was a solitary figure, an island of solitude in a sea of social interactions. It was as if he had an invisible barrier around him, an aura that repelled human connection. Rosemary couldn't fathom what had led him to this point, but it intrigued her nonetheless.

As far as vices went, Rosemary had never seen Haymitch smoke or indulge in any form of drug use, but her knowledge of the world beyond District 12 was limited. She was aware that in some places, such behaviors were considered normal, even fashionable. The Capitol was a distant, opulent dream, a realm she could only glimpse through the prism of the Hunger Games. But what she did witness was his penchant for alcohol, a vice that had become his constant companion.

Alcohol clung to him like a second skin, oozing from his pores whenever he was near. It was more than just a faint odor; it was an overpowering presence that enveloped him. She often wondered how he managed to stand upright under the weight of it all. His hair, greasy and unkempt, seemed to mirror his disheveled life. His nails were perpetually stained with dirt, a testament to his disregard for personal hygiene. And then there was that old, worn shirt, a constant companion on his weary frame, as though he clung to it as a relic of a bygone era.

Could she blame him for the tragedy that had befallen her family? A part of her wanted to, desperately. But the notion of blame was a complex and fragile one. In a world as ruthless as Panem, where survival was the ultimate goal, assigning blame often felt like trying to catch smoke in one's hands. Yet, something deep within her, an instinct honed by years of struggle and heartache, whispered to her that Haymitch was bad news. It wasn't just about the past; it was about the present. He never seemed to leave her alone, his presence lurking in the shadows of her life like an uninvited guest. Wherever Rose went, he showed up, a specter haunting her every step. It was as though he carried a torch of guilt and despair that refused to be extinguished.

Rosemary longed for solitude, for a moment of respite from the suffocating grip of her grief. She yearned to find a new purpose, to rediscover hope midst the ashes of her shattered dreams. But Haymitch was a constant reminder of her past, a ghost she couldn't exorcise from her life. All she wanted was a chance to mourn, to heal, and to begin anew. Yet, Haymitch Abernathy remained an enigmatic figure, a shadow that refused to recede into the darkness.

♕

Deciding to take matters into her own hands, Rosemary embarked on a determined journey down to the depths of the Capitol's heart, the footsteps of her leather boots echoing with each step in the eerily quiet hallway. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something within her had set her feet in motion, guiding her towards the elevator as if some unseen force had taken hold of her, urging her to seek answers.