Searching for a Myth

There Won't be a Next Time - Haymitch

Haymitch's POV:

"Mother?" I ask as I open the door to our shabby wooden shack of a home. "Are you there?"

The sound of a gust of wind flowing replies a minute later, the chill slicing through my back like a knife. I shudder; this can't be good. She's drunk again, and just on the night before Reaping Day.

Heading to the kitchen, I brush the coal dust off my dirty hands, and grab a bucket in hope that there's still some water in the stream from the woods. I'll need to start looking for another water source.

Suddenly, my ankle accidentally hooks into something else, pulling me down with it. Scrambling back up to my feet, I let out a horrified yell.

Laying before me is a sight that's what used to be my mother. She looks so unlike a human being that at first, my five-year-old self would declare her an alien from another planet coming to take over the world.

Her eyes are rolled back to such an extent that I almost can't see them, the once cheerful blue eyes now a dull shade of gray. My mother's mouth is open the slightest bit so that it reveals rows of small broken teeth. That mouth also seems to be crying in pain at the same time. Her skin is covered in many small cracks and bruises as well, but none of those previous features are the most terrifying thing before my eyes.

It's a dagger. A shining metal blade with a golden base, acting as a mirror so I can see the blood running out of her chest, that practically scream death. That, as well as the shattered wine bottle my mother's hand is gripping. But why would she kill herself on purpose while she's drunk?

Two seconds. That's all it takes for me to drop the bucket in my hand, and run up to my room and slam the door, locking it too. Panting as sweat drips off my forehead, I close my eyes but that penetrating sight keeps coming back to mind.

Gritting my teeth, I force myself into a sleep where I hope no nightmares haunt me.

The next day, I exit out the back door to avoid that terrible scene that happened last night, and fall into line with the other seventeen-year-old boys around the front of the crowd under the stage, after getting my finger pricked and identified as the one and only Haymitch Abernathy. I know, I'm unique.

Usually the Reapings in District Twelve are sullen and quiet, but there's quite a lot of hushed chatter among the people. I listen close to a few of them.

"Adonis, I'm scared."

"I know, Rose. You'll just have to brave it through, but we won't be picked. We're only Twelve."

"Gosh, what is the escort wearing? It looks like someone poked a needle through twenty flowers and stapled that to her shirt."

"It's not fair. I don't want to die like others."

That last statement caught my eye. Or rather, my ear. Stepping out of the crowd, I walk a bit closer to the direction of the person, but I only hear soft sniffling. So I try to follow where that crying is coming from, and end up face to face with a young girl about my age.

"What's your name?" I ask.

She looks up at me, revealing two sparkling blue eyes matching long blonde hair held in two pigtails. "Maysilee. Maysilee Donner."

"I'm Haymitch Abernathy." Brushing a lock of dark brown hair out of my face, I grin.

Maysilee blinks a few times before speaking. "It's ..." Her cheeks turn slightly red. "... nice to meet you, Haymitch."

Nope, no time for small talk right now. I've got something to tell her. "Look, life is unfair; that's how it's always been. We never did anything to deserve living our lives in fear, constantly hoping we won't be chosen at the reaping for six years straight. But you gotta fight through it, okay?"

"I don't think I can-"

"Wrong answer!" I reach one hand over to touch Maysilee's cheek, tracing a dry tear streak. Oh wait, I hope she doesn't take this as a romantic gesture. "At least give a smile. Show them you won't give up, and if you do get picked chances are that they'll be on your side cause they like your determination."

"Y-yeah." More shades of red and pink creep up onto the girl's cheeks. "We should go now."

"Yup. See you after, I guess?"

"See you too, Haymitch."

With that, I walk back to my own line, where some boys are raising their eyebrows at me and puckering their lips to make kissing noises. "Shut up." I snap at them.

And for once, I'm glad that the escort taps on the microphone, signaling the start of the Reaping.

"Welcome, welcome," she smiled. I can't tell if it's a fake smile or a real smile. "to the reaping of the Fiftieth Annual Hunger Games, also known as the second Quarter Quell. My name is Daisy."

It's a Quarter Quell, too? Crap! What mischief are the Capitol Gamemakers up to this time?

Then, Daisy says some stuff about Panem's history, the creation of the Games, things I have heard for the past five years.

"Now, it's time to choose the brave men and women for the Fiftieth Hunger Games." She digs her hand into the glass bowl. The next name she calls out sends a needle piercing through my heart.

"Maysilee Donner."

I want to shout. I want to scream. But nothing goes through my lips the moment I open them. I can only watch in awestruck terror as the girl I just met courageously walks up to the stage after she struggles out of the grasp of two friends.

However, what then surprises me even more is the fact that once she faced the audience, she was smiling daringly, something no one has ever done. Most importantly, though, she actually listened to me!

Another girl gets called up, and she tries to imitate Maysilee's attitude, but fails immediately.

Now, it's time for the boys.

"Conner Lucas!"

A small boy from the twelve-year-old section comes up, bottom lip quivering. Low murmurs race across the crowd. Everyone feels so bad for him, yet no one dares to risk their own lives by stepping up to take Conner's place.

And finally, the last tribute to be called is ...

"Haymitch Abernathy!" Daisy calls. "Come on up!"

Back when my mother was the kind, caring sober woman taking care of me, she'd always tell me that in a bad situation, things will get better next time. Well Mother, how about you getting drunk and dying right there on the spot, huh? What about Maysilee and I being reaped? There's not going to be a second chance where we won't get picked, cause that's how life works. Basically ...

Things won't get better, cause there is no next time.