Future of the mockingjay

Chapter eighteen: Drugs

"Hijacked again, eh?" Haymitch asks, chewing loudly on a piece of bread.

"Not exactly," I say, looking out the window.

"Then what exactly, Peeta?" Haymitch asks in a bored tone.

"I'm not feeling like myself lately. It's almost as if all the memories that had been altered with the hijacking are starting to change themselves again. Every time I see Katniss... I'm not even sure what I feel around her anymore. I know that something's trying to take over me again, but I'm not going to let it." I watch my breath fog up the window as I talk. "I'm fighting as hard as I can."

"But how long can you keep it up?" Haymitch adds, getting interested.

"Exactly."

I pace the room, feeling his watching eyes follow me as I plop down on the chair. I drop my face into my hands in defeat, staring at the tiled floor. "Help me, Haymitch."

"Thought I was just a lousy old drunk, huh?" he teases, coughing out a laugh.

"You are," I mumble through my hands. "But you're the only one I can turn to right now. And, after all," I look up and wink at him, "you are my mentor."

"And don't you forget it," he says, wagging a finger at me. His face softens and he closes his eyes, seemingly sleeping.

"Haymitch!" I say.

He jolts up, glaring at me. "What now?"

"You're supposed to be helping me, remember?" I roll my eyes.

"I am!" He grunts, throwing his hands into the air. "Don't you know a thinking man when you see one?"

"I know a sleeping man," I mutter to myself.

"Now, just wait here a sec and I'll give you my advice." He lies back down, rubbing his stomach.

I get up and stand by the window again, looking over District 12. After a while, I locate the Hob, and then the school, and then our street. I stare longingly at the yellow-tiled roof of a house and imagine Katniss and the kids standing in the doorway, waving to me.

"You love her, don't you?" Haymitch's rough voice breaks my train of thought.

I look at him incredulously. "Of course."

"Well, then, there you go!" He smiled contentedly, as if he'd just won the lottery.

"OK, thanks old man," I say, grabbing my things. "You've been a real big help," I add sarcastically.

He grabs my hand as I pass by, holding me in place. He rests his gaze intently on mine, as if he is seeing right through me. "You'll survive it, boy. I know it." He releases me and closes his eyes, this time really sleeping.

I stare at him, stunned. Haymitch actually believes in me?

The monitor beside him beeps steadily and I look at all the medicine flowing into his body. Must be the drugs