to win - haymitch abernathy

⁷⁰ 𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓈

Quartz's lifeless body lay nearby, and she noticed the knives strapped to his waist, and a realization dawned – the machete was perhaps intended for her, a gift from Quartz that fate had cruelly denied. As Rosemary reached down to pick up the machete, she couldn't help but cast one last gaze at Quartz's face. Leaning down, she pressed a tender kiss on his forehead, a silent farewell to a fallen ally and a friend. Standing up, she wiped away the tears that stained her cheeks, determined to conceal the emotional turmoil that threatened to overwhelm her. Biting back any sobs, she clutched the machete tightly, a bittersweet memento of the bond they shared.

Running over to the waiting tributes, Rosemary joined Peeta, her hands stained with Quartz's blood. Peeta noticed the crimson evidence but chose not to comment. The unspoken understanding between tributes, forged in the crucible of the Games, allowed for a shared silence in the face of loss.

"We should hide in the jungle," Katniss suggested, a practical plan to evade the dangers that lurked in the open. Rosemary rolled her eyes subtly, ensuring her emotions remained concealed. Peeta led the way into the jungle, and what started as a walk soon escalated into a jog. Rosemary's lungs burned with each labored breath. The burning sensation in her chest, a ghostly reminder of the water-filled struggle, intensified her inner turmoil. She fought against the overwhelming urge to succumb to the pain, the desire to open her chest and escape the suffocating grip of grief.

"Katniss, Katniss, go, go, go!" Finnick's urgent call broke through the rhythmic pounding of their footsteps. Katniss surged ahead, and Rosemary followed behind Finnick, who carried Mags on his shoulders. The haunting thought of revenge briefly crossed her mind – a desire to end Finnick's life, to release the pent-up rage and grief. Yet, the memory of Quartz restrained her, a silent plea to honor his legacy with nobility. Another cannon echoed through the arena, and Rosemary hoped against hope that the fallen tribute wasn't Johanna or Enobaria.

♕

The living room was enveloped in the dim glow of the television screen, casting flickering shadows across the faces of those gathered. Lina's eyes were fixed on the unfolding scenes of the Hunger Games. Rosemary's back against a tree, surrounded by fellow tributes, her struggle was etched on the screen for all to witness.

"She nearly died," Lina voiced her concern, her eyes glued to the screen. Rosemary sat nearby the other tributes, her breaths heavy and sporadic.

Phil tried to offer reassurance. "She'll be alright," he said, his gaze unwavering as he observed his daughter. Lina took a sip from her hot chocolate, attempting to find solace and warmth midst the cold reality of the Games. Rain tapped rhythmically against the windows, a stark contrast to the emotional storm brewing within Lina's heart.

"Why would she sacrifice herself for him?" Billy questioned with frustration lacing his tone. The family dynamics played out in the living room as the tension thickened.

"They're allies," Lina responded, meeting Billy's gaze, a silent plea for understanding.

"But he practically killed Finch," Billy retorted, anger bubbling beneath the surface.

"He didn't," Lina defended, refusing to reopen wounds related to Finch. The pain of Finch's demise lingered like a ghost in the room, a topic fraught with emotions.

"He did," Billy persisted, his frustration escalating.

"He didn't know she would eat them," Lina interjected, unwilling to delve into the intricacies of Finch's tragic end.