The instant I wake, I wish I hadn't.
I hardly have a second to take in my blurry surroundings before I bolt to the bathroom down the hall, greeted with an unfriendly good morning by last night's excessive amounts of alcohol.
When I think my body has finally rid itself of everything I had left in my stomach, I slump over the clawfoot tub, my cheek resting on its cool surface. The bathroom continues to spin and I'm filled with a horrible sort of dread. Last night was meant to ease my pain but now I feel it one hundred times worse. For a second, I consider slowly making my down the stairs to open another bottle--not a good solution to cure this awful hangover, but an effective one at least. But no, there isn't another bottle; Peeta dumped the last of what I had down the kitchen drain.
Peeta. I wince, cursing myself for letting him see me like that. How long did he stay with me last night, I wonder. Was that even real? Everything feels so hazy it's difficult to tell for sure.
"Katniss?" My thoughts of Peeta and empty bottles and silent I miss yous and a splitting headache are interrupted by a knock on the bathroom door and the unmistakable voice of, not Peeta, but my old mentor. The last person I care to see right now.
"I'm fine," I manage to blurt out. It apparently does not satisfy him because Haymitch is slowly pushing the door open and is suddenly there, helping me stand up and guiding me back to bed.
"Water," he grumbles, holding out a cup filled with it right in front of my face. I take it but don't take my eyes off of him. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy like he's been awake for hours, and he has an unmistakable scowl on his face.
"Now, why don't you tell me what the hell you were thinking, sweetheart," he says, taking a seat by the window.
"Why are you here?" I ask, dodging his question.
"I was wondering the same thing," he says. "Getting a call from Peeta at 4 in the morning wasn't exactly how I planned to start my day."
I hesitate, guilt rising in my chest. "Peeta called you?"
Haymitch nods, a sarcastic tone in his voice. "He was all worked up about how you stole liquor from me and drank yourself silly--you owe me by the way--and he wasn't sure if you would, I don't know, die in your sleep or something," he scoffs, but I sense a tone of real concern behind his words.
"Well, I didn't die," I crack a small smile. Haymitch is not amused.
"Peeta was so anxious over you, he felt himself start to slip and asked me to come to babysit you instead." Ouch.
"I never intended for him to see me like that," I whisper, quiet as a mouse. I hate that I continue to hurt him. He wasn't supposed to be here in the first place, I didn't ask for him to check on me.
"Well he did," Haymitch sighs. "Now, are you going to talk or do I need to let our friend Dr. Aurelius know you took a little shopping spree in my liquor cabinet last night?"
"I don't exactly think you're one to give me a lecture, considering you were passed out drunk on your couch when I was over there," I retort back, letting my feelings of guilt turn into anger and messily spill out of my mouth. "Besides, since when do you care about anyone but yourself? I haven't even seen you in weeks."
When I see a glimpse of sadness flicker behind his eyes, I know I've hit him where it hurts and I don't care.
"Look, Katniss," he says, leaning forward in his chair. "If you want to ruin your life, I can't stop you and neither can Peeta. We've all made choices and I can't say I don't have regrets about my own. I don't want to see you go down the same road I did. But if you want to spiral, if you want to push everyone away--well, that's your choice too."
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his unshaven stubble. "What I'm trying to say is, me and Peeta, we might not be much. But we do care about you. And kid, like it or not, we're all you've got. You're on your own now and if you don't want help we can't force it on you."
I know he doesn't say this to hurt me. I know he's right. And I hate him for it.
"Please, just go," I whisper, turning my head. My cheeks burn crimson. I feel so embarrassed and guilt-ridden and I don't have anything else to say, anyways. He does as I say, leaving with no protest.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. I watch the rain from today's spring storm travel down the window pane in streaks. Around 5 o'clock, I grow restless and decide to take a walk in the rain, hoping it will help me feel less foggy.
I don't bother to take an umbrella. The cool rain droplets are welcome on my skin, especially after so many years of flames.
I don't walk anywhere in particular. There are several other people milling around, especially in town, where they have begun to rebuild what was once the town square. Rubble has been mostly cleared away, the smoking fires have stopped, and the remains of what was once my district's people now reside in a mass grave out near the meadow.
People look at me as I pass, giving me curt nods and solemn expressions. I hate the way people look at me, full of so much sorrow, and so many apologies. I don't want them. I should be the one apologizing to them. I am responsible for destroying their homes, their livelihoods, and their families. How could they not hate me? I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to find the right words to express how sorry I am so I return their nods and otherwise keep my head down.
I'm focused on my muddy footprints when I hear him, up ahead. Peeta stands outside of a small brick building, talking to Greasy Sae. Must be where she's begun to set up shop again, selling whatever trinkets and wild animal meat she can find. I've hunted once or twice, always giving my kills to her to be sold, but she must find enough of a living without my help anyways.
I watch them talk and smile with each other for a moment. He hands her a small bag of something, bread I assume, and cracks a joke I can't make out over the sound of the rain on the pavement. I haven't seen him smile, really smile, in so long and it makes my heart flutter. He would be okay without me, wouldn't he? I think back to what he told me in the Quell, about how if I died there would be no one else for him to care about. No one else that he loved. But surely Peeta would find happiness without me. I at least hope he would.
I am about to turn on my heel and head back in the opposite direction, deciding I can't face him today when he sees me first and calls my name, a look of surprise across his face.
I clench my jaw and lower my eyes as he bids Greasy Sae goodbye and makes his way over to me. I am frozen, with fear or embarrassment or something else, I'm not sure. I do not raise my eyes to meet his, even when he is standing before me--though he still keeps a noticeable distance between us. Maybe he's angry with me, or maybe he's afraid I'll set him off. Maybe both.
"Hey," he says, gently. Well, he must not be angry. I nod hello and let my eyes flicker up to meet his for a split second. He's about to say something else when he's interrupted by a thunderclap that makes us both jump out of our skin.
I watch him carefully, wondering if the storm will trigger something in him about the games, or his torture. His jaw twitches and he watches a lightning strike off in the distance.
"We should probably get inside," I say, suddenly filled with dread. Storms don't affect me much but I'm afraid of what will happen to Peeta if he loses control out in the district like this. Besides, if the storm gets any worse it won't be safe standing out here.
He is still focused on the sky like he's looking for something that's not there--waiting for something--so I gingerly touch his arm and his attention snaps back to me. He nods and follows quietly behind me as I head toward Greasy Sae's.
Another clap of thunder follows as soon as we shut the door behind us. Greasy Sae is standing near a staircase that must lead up to the apartment she shares with her granddaughter on the top floor. A gentle smile stretches across her face when she sees us. Peeta must not have told her about what happened last night, or she'd be giving me another lecture I'm sure. I'll have to remember to thank him for keeping quiet. Greasy Sae is the closest thing I have to a mother now that mine is working in the Capitol and I can't bear the thought of her being disappointed in me.
"I've gotta take care of Clara upstairs," she says, referring to her granddaughter, who always seemed to be living in a world of her own. "But you two are welcome to wait the storm out down here. Can't imagine anyone will stop by for any wild dog in this weather."
I nod and give her a small smile, pulling my damp hair away from my face. Peeta has already taken off his jacket and moved to a seat at one of the tables near the kitchen, fiddling with a loose string on his sweater. Tying knots.
"You okay?" I ask, cautiously lowering myself into the seat opposite him. He nods but refuses to meet my gaze.
After a few minutes in silence, he eventually forgets the loose thread and sighs, "I'm sorry I left this morning."
"You don't have to be," I say, and try to lighten the tense mood in the air. "Though I didn't particularly enjoy waking up to Haymitch's company."
"I can't imagine he was very thrilled," he says, clearly not amused by my failed attempt at a joke. "You did steal his booze."
"And you dumped it down the drain," I retort. Immediately, I regret it. I don't have any right to be angry at Peeta, not really. I know he was trying to help. When he turns away without a word, I say, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to see me like that last night. I didn't intend to drag you into it."
This, he apparently thinks is funny. He scoffs and says, "Katniss, do you really think I'm upset about seeing you drunk? Having to take care of you?"
I don't know what to say, so I stare wordlessly at him.
"The problem is, you feel sorry that I had to help you and not that you did it in the first place. I just. . ." he trails off, defeated. "I just wish you understood that you're not the only one. That I understand, a least a little bit, about what you're going through. And for the record, you didn't have to drag me into it. I'm already in it."
With that, he mumbles something about going up to check on Greasy Sae and Clara and leaves me in the company of the thunderstorm booming outside the shop window.