What If

Chapter Four:

Katniss

Without hesitation I rose up from the sofa and ran out of my house, my mother still calling my name. I didn't listen, nothing being processed by my mind. She, thankfully, didn't follow.

Soon I found myself in the nearest place I could stumble into—a random empty house in Victor's Village. It was huge and nearly identical to all the other houses inside. I pushed open the surprisingly unlocked door.

After entering, my mind blacked out, shutting off as if it wouldn't, no couldn't, process anything happening right now. It was all too much.

I blinked my eyes opening, my sight finally clearing. My ears were ringing, my mind rushing. I looked around and realized I was in the cellar of the empty Victor's Village house, unaware how I'd ended up there.

A throbbing forced me to look down at my hand, which was bleeding freely. It wasn't painful, though. At least not more painful than the pain of the games.

Peeta deserves to win. Now me.

That was the one thing I was certain on, even if it was small and impossible. Peeta had a real chance, at least a larger one than me. If I won, the capitol would just plan some tragic 'accident' for me. These games were designed specifically to kill me, and I knew it.

The other option was going to the games and somehow convincing Haymitch to go to the games. I could win, I've played their games before. Most other victors are old and addicts now, right? I could beat them, right...?

If I did, then I could finally live with Peeta peacefully. They wouldn't force me through another game, right? Maybe I could win. Maybe I could even be happy...?

No way. The capitol would never allow it.

Pushing these thoughts out of my mind I turned my attention to my hand. I hastily attempted to nurse it back to health, but I quickly gave up. I'm no healer.

I finally stood up, feeling woozy. I stumbled out of the house and found myself walking to Haymitch's house, a trail of blood following me. Apparently the injury is more severe than I'd previously thought.

"And there she is," Haymitch said, almost giddily as if he'd been waiting. A grimace was on his face and a bottle was in his hand. "Let me guess....you came here to ask me to die, right?"

I shook my head as I slowly sat down across from him. "No. I came here to drink."

Haymitch laughed. He rummaged around his house before finding a non-empty bottle. He handed it to me and I examined it. It was full of a dark colored and strong smelling liquid.

My hands shook as I gripped the bottle and chugged. The liquor burned my throat but I didn't resist it, I kept drinking. I didn't want to stop, I wanted to be drunk into oblivion like Haymitch. I wanted to forget about everything, even if just for tonight.

After I finished that bottle I peered at Haymitch, who handed me another one. I drank this one slower, but still eagerly.

"Peeta was just here," Haymitch noted nonchalantly, but we both knew it was grave serious. I kept my eyes down on the drink. "He was begging for your life, actually. You know, never in a million years could you deserve that boy?"

"I know," I shot back bitterly, desperately trying to keep back tears and keep my drink down. "That's why I came here. To protect Peeta. Be a good mentor to him, just like you were to me in the first games. No one good ever wins the games, Haymitch, except for him. He's good, Haymitch. Truly. He deserves this."