The 75th Hunger Games {COMPLETED}

Not Your Story

“Was it that obvious?” I smiled wickedly, the look in his eyes mirrored in mine.

“Let’s just say you weren’t subtle sweetheart.” He took a seat on the end of the couch and I wandered to the other end of it.

“You’re just saying that because you know the truth, imagine what the people of the Capitol would say.”

“I’d imagine it would be something along the lines of ‘him, really?’”

“Now Haymitch, you don’t really believe that we think so little of you do you?”

He gave a little laugh and flicked his hair out of his eyes. “I think you’re going to think what you want to. You got a backpack there, what’s in it?” I rolled my eyes and unzipped the big pocket, taking out the rest of the bread and putting it on the table.

“Peeta’s handiwork I see.” He walked over and ripped a piece of bread of to take a bite.

I also pulled out a bottle of white liquor. “You better make this last because I’m not bringing you a bottle a day.”

He looked at the bottle with caution and pushed the bread aside. “Not trying to poison me with food again are you?”

“Why would I save you and then kill you?”

“You Capitol people are always crafty.”

I gave a little laugh. “I’m from the Capitol and you assume that you know me.”

“I’m sure I know more about you than you could ever know about me.” He sat back arrogantly and I gave a little smile.

“I know plenty about you Haymitch, more than you know about yourself.” He gave a scoff. “How about I tell you a story?”

“Are you going to tell me about myself? This should be a treat.” He folded his arms and stared over at me arrogantly.

“Okay, fine. So you were sixteen when they pulled your name out of the reaping bowl, you and three other tributes. What made you stand out was that you were smarter than them. You were smarter than all of them. The President hated that you figured out a way to cheat death, cheat the game. The force field was their source of control and you managed to make it work for you, like the jabberjays of the Dark Days War. So they planned on punishing you.

“They had to give you everything they promised because they needed to keep up appearances and they didn’t want any uprisings. So they had to take away everything that meant anything to you. Two weeks after your return to District 12 your parents were killed, a tragic accident of course. Peace keepers would give you that look all over town, so that you knew it was one of them who took them from you. You were an only child so they thought you had no one. You made it seem that way.”

“Have you been watching my tapes? Bravo, that’s some good eyes you’ve got there.” He looked amused, like he was so confident that I couldn’t possibly know anything about him.

“Okay, here’s something from your tapes; in your interview after the games you were asked if there was anyone special back home, you said that there was before you entered the games but now that you’re a winner you can go after bigger and better things than a silly schoolhouse romance. You lied. You planned the whole thing with her when you first fell for her. She knew how smart you were so she agreed and when you got back you kept your distance and met in private so no peace keeper could touch her. You never thought they’d go after your parents.”

He was beginning to get that look of curiosity in his eyes, the arrogance being pushed to the back of his mind.

“Your girl’s name was Violet. She had this way of making you laugh when you showed up seething and she would hold you through the nightmares. You even managed to keep it a secret for two whole years. It was only when she fell pregnant that the real problems started.” He was listening intently now, unable to tear his eyes from me.

“You had a plan; you were going to keep them safe no matter what. You knew that if the peace keepers found her with a baby they would put two and two together. So you kept her hidden away so she could have the baby in secret. Two months before the games she gave birth to her baby, a little girl. You named her Amber Abernathy; it was what you wanted to call her.

“When the reaping came around you made a scene on the stage so that she could make her way to the waiting train with the help of a peace keeper who was different to the rest. He smuggled Violet and Amber onto the train and hid them in the storage compartment. You managed to slip away from the tributes and the minder to say goodbye, a real goodbye.” I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I saw the hard look on his face fill with sadness and pain.

“You brushed her hair out of her face and ran your fingers from the top of her head down over her face to hold her head in your hands and kissed her. Then you held your daughter for the last time and did the same to her. When you reached the Capitol you had a short time to yourself and so you called a man that you trusted, you had met him when you first came to the Capitol as a victor and he was so very different.

“You met with him and told him about everything, I think he had to sit down because it was so hard to hear. Then you asked him if he would take her in with your child. You asked him to save them, and he couldn’t say no, not to a pleading face like yours. He agreed but he was unsure. When he saw the refugees for the first time though, he made it his mission to save them.

“You sent every cent that you had with your trusted peace keeper every year to them, as compensation to try and help, you would have used the extra food rations as trade back in District 12 but that doesn’t matter. The point is you saved them by sending them to the one place you knew that they would be safe, so long as no one ever found out. Your daughter would never be reaped for the games like you knew she would be if she lived in 12 with your name. There was no doubt that they would use her to punish you for what you did in the games.” He stared at me, not with disbelief, but with the eyes of a man broken, forced to relive that which he has tried so hard to forget. “Am I close?” I whispered, the tears finally falling from my eyes.

We sat in silence for a few moments. I wasn’t even sure if he was staring at me or just lost in a world behind his eyes.

“How could you possibly…” He breathed, still unable to comprehend.

“Caledon Rochette told me.” I said slowly.

“He would never…”

“Yes he would, because I wasn’t telling you your story…” I walked over to my bag and pulled out the paper that I had stashed earlier. It was a letter, a well-read letter from a long time ago, and I handed it to him.

His shaking hands unfolded the paper and as he read the first line his other hand reached up to grip the letter, as if it were a matter of life and death. Tears had started to fall from his eyes. I knew the letter well, I had read it hundreds of times, and as he reached that tell-tale line his head shot up, shock and almost horror written on his sick, pale face.

“I was telling mine.”