ACT ONE, CHAPTER TWO
Against All Odds

RHIANNON HAD BARELY SLEPT DURING THE PAST FEW WEEKS. Every waking moment, her eyes were locked onto a screen broadcasting the Games. Due to the increased number of tributes, this year's bloodbath naturally had one of the largest mortality counts in history - eighteen, to be exact. Haymitch and Maysilee, thankfully, were still holding on strong.

Despite not being a participant, every part of this year's Games had been burned into Rhiannon's memory as if she experienced them herself. The Tribute Parade, in which all of the District 12 tributes were dressed in overalls and covered in coal dust. The interviews, in which Maysilee maintained the same sweet-but-naive demeanor that was consistent with her true self. Rhiannon could argue that Haymitch took a similar approach despite acting very nonchalant about the entire situation. He earned a rather high training score for a tribute from an outlying district, but when Caesar Flickerman inquired about it, Haymitch shrugged it off as if it were an easy feat.

In fact, when asked about his thoughts regarding there being one hundred percent more tributes, Haymitch responded, "I don't see much of a difference. They're still going to be one hundred percent as stupid." Rhiannon presumed Haymitch didn't see a point in trying to be a people pleaser, given District 12 didn't even have a mentor to try and win their tributes sponsors to begin with. However, if Haymitch was using this tactic to garner attention, he was surely succeeding.

At first glance, if one were to forget that it was a place for children to murder children, the arena looked beautiful. Almost dreamlike. The flowers, the vegetation, the animals all seemed surreal.

In fact, they were.

Soon, as the Games continued, it was discovered that nearly everything in the arena, albeit beautiful, was lethal. The fruit dangling from the bushes, the water in the crystalline streams, the flower's pollen when inhaled too directly - all deadly poisonous.

The number of tributes was trickling down, mostly due to the arena itself. Rhiannon wondered if this was the Gamemakers' intention, to include the arena as a dangerous contender. Rhiannon didn't keep count, but she would bet that the arena was responsible for more deaths than all of the tributes combined.

It was at the point in the Games where dehydration and starvation were beginning to take their toll on the tributes. Their desperation led them to eat berries off of bushes and drink from the deceivingly-clear waters, the boom of a cannon left in their wake.

Rhiannon was working her shift at the Mercers', busy with unloading a cardboard crate full of fruits and vegetables. She arranged them on their appropriate shelves, piling the crate along with its empty counterparts in the back room. After finishing unpacking her fourth crate, Rhiannon tuned into the broadcast that she had previously been distracted from.

The camera was currently trained on a young girl from an outlying district, but soon switched over to focus on Haymitch. He was in a crouched position, inspecting a bush of berries from a safe distance. The adverse effects of hunger were undoubtedly beginning to affect him. Aside from the small loaf of bread in the backpack he acquired from the cornucopia, Haymitch hadn't eaten anything after watching someone die from eating the poisonous berries from afar. Luckily enough, Haymitch was in close proximity of one of the deceased Career tributes to steal their backpack before it went into the air with the hovercraft's claw. While there wasn't any food inside, there was a sponsor-issued canister full with clean water.

Haymitch had been rationing the water, presuming that - if it had to be gifted by a sponsor - there weren't a lot, if any, fresh water sources in the arena. Now, however, food was becoming his main concern.

Well, immediately after staying alive.

Rhiannon figured he was wondering if all berries, even ones with different appearances, held the same deadly properties. The ones he was currently analyzing differed from the ones the tribute ate prior. Instead of the dark blue, nearly black, berries Haymitch learned were deadly, these were a soft plum color. Rhiannon couldn't say for certain whether or not these berries would kill Haymitch within an instant like the aforementioned ones did ("nightlock," she recalls Caesar naming them), she just hoped that the starvation wouldn't completely distort Haymitch's sense of reality.

Haymitch reached forward to poke a berry with his knife, immediately spinning around as an incessant beeping noise grew louder. From watching the Games over the duration of her sixteen years of living, Rhiannon recognized that sound from anywhere. She perked up as the silver parachute came into view, landing softly on the grass beside Haymitch. He hastily opened the sponsor gift, exhaling a relieved sigh at the fresh loaf of bread waiting inside.

Caesar's voice narrated the scene, "It seems that District 12's Haymitch Abernathy has received his first sponsor gift. These can - quite literally - be a lifesaver." Rhiannon wondered how Haymitch managed to garner a sponsor, given that District 12 doesn't have any mentors, no one to advocate on his behalf.

Caesar, himself, seemed to wonder the same thing. He asked Claudius Templesmith, who was at his side, "I wonder who it's from? After all - if you didn't know, folks - District 12 unfortunately does not have any living victors; thus, no mentors."

Claudius squinted his eyes as he studied the screen in front of them, "Well, Caesar, from the intricate design on the bread, I bet my hat that it's from District 2." Rhiannon furrowed her eyebrows. District 2? Why would they send Haymitch, of all people, a gift?

"And what makes you say that, Claudius?" Caesar asked.

Claudius pointed, "The rings around the bread's outside are from quarry tiles, and District 2 has its fair share of quarries - from being the masonry district and all."

Caesar slowly nodded, "Hmm, interesting take, Claudius, interesting take...I dare say you're right!" This launched the two into a discussion about the districts' different types of bread - District 12's, for example, were either flat, dense loaves or drop biscuits made from tesserae. Neither were particularly tasty in Rhiannon's opinion, but she would gladly take either one of the bland loaves any day of the week.

Caesar suddenly sat up straighter in his seat, "Oh! Oh, what's this?" The broadcast of Haymitch eating the bread was replaced by a trio of Career tributes making their way through the woods. "It appears that the Career pack have decided to divide and conquer...and one trio is approaching District 12's very own Haymitch Abernathy as we speak." The Careers had evidently split into groups in order to track down stragglers, since most of the other tributes were competing solo and they would easily be able to outnumber any opponent.

The tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 had, impressively, only lost two out of their twelve members. They were bound to turn on each other eventually, though. Rhiannon supposed it would happen sooner rather than later. Careers aren't honorable people. They negotiate alliances that only benefit them, and once it becomes more of a nuisance than what it's worth, they turn on each other without hesitation. Rhiannon wondered if Careers had anything that resembled souls; after all, they come into the Games with one thing on their minds, victory, and no one decent ever wins the Games.

No one decent could bear to live with the memories.

The camera briefly flickered back to Haymitch, who was stashing the other half of his loaf of bread into the bag he snagged from the cornucopia. At the sound of a branch snapping behind him, he quickly gripped his knife and spun around.

The three Careers, a boy and girl from 2 and a boy from 1, stood with bloodthirsty grins upon their faces. They didn't even bother with their characteristic taunts before charging. Rhiannon could feel sweat gather in different areas of her body as she grew nervous. These tributes were the pick of the litter, one of whom expected to become these Games' victor. Despite only being a spectator, Rhiannon's own body was going into fight or flight. If it weren't Haymitch's life on the line, she would immediately turn away and attempt to busy herself with something else. She would choose flight.

Haymitch sprung up from his squatted position and instinctively retaliated, utilizing his handheld knife against their own. He chose fight.

The girl attacked first, and while she had the agility and aggression, she was simply outsized by Haymitch's build. While Haymitch wasn't nearly as tall or burly as the male District 1 and 2 contenders, the girl from 2 was tiny. It worked towards her advantage, helping her move swiftly, but Haymitch had surprisingly quick reflexes.

She managed to catch him on the thigh with her blade, but Haymitch dodged and threw her onto the ground where she landed flat on her face. Without thinking, Haymitch quickly dug his knife into the left side of her upper back, puncturing all the way through her flesh to her heart.

Boom.

Rhiannon lightly gasped, hand raising to cover her mouth. That was Haymitch's first kill. Although she understood that this was a game of survival and expected Haymitch to get blood on his ledger eventually, it was an entirely different experience witnessing it become reality. The District 1 male quickly followed, utilizing the upper hand he had on Haymitch as the latter was kneeling on the ground. As the Career raised his arm to create momentum for his blow, in one motion, Haymitch stood up and drove his own knife into the Career's chest before his arm even began to descend. The Career froze, blood immediately spluttering from his lips before he collapsed onto the ground.

Boom.

The remaining male Career from 2, seemingly unfazed by his allies' deaths, didn't waste any time in taking a stab at Haymitch - literally. While Haymitch deflected the first attempt, the Career knocked Haymitch to the ground and straddled his body, pinning down Haymitch's arms and legs with his entire body weight. Haymitch may have outweighed the girl (while soaking wet) and held his own against the lean boy from 1, but his current opponent was over six feet tall and large with muscle.

Rhiannon felt nauseous as she watched the Career laugh, spitting blood onto Haymitch's face. Her eyes began stinging, producing tears in preparation of the outcome she's been dreading ever since Haymitch's name was drawn during the reaping. As her fingers fell into their familiar routine, Rhiannon couldn't bring herself to look away from the broadcast, her nose nearly grazing the hologram.

One, two, three, four - four, three, two, one -

She doubted she would be able to handle watching Haymitch's death on national television. The close proximity to that reality fed the animal within her that was struggling to climb up the walls of her throat.

- one, two, three, four - four, three, two, one -

The Career rose his hand, about to slit Haymitch's throat. Rhiannon felt her body begin to go into full-blown panic mode, her fingers decreasing in speed as her limbs threatened to fall limp.

She whispered aloud, "Haymitch..." Rhiannon was debating turning away before the knife made contact, not wanting to watch the life leave Haymitch's eyes. She wanted to remember him as her Haymitch; his Seam eyes a silvery gray rather than lifeless and dull.

Suddenly, the Career's body twitched forward as he froze, shock written across his features. His fingers lost their strength, the knife falling from his grip and landing on the grass with a faint thud.

Boom.

Soon after, his body fell directly on top of Haymitch, who immediately pushed the corpse off of him. The camera focused on the dead Career, Caesar informing the audience that a dart laced with poison had been the cause of death.

The broadcast then switched to a shot of the woods, a head of blonde hair peeking out from behind a tree.

Maysilee.

On guard, Haymitch grabbed his own knife and pushed himself off the ground and to his feet, ready to defend himself if necessary.

Maysilee, noticing his uneasiness, dropped her blowgun and said, "We'd live longer with two of us."

Haymitch, slightly disoriented yet relieved to see a friendly face, relaxed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Guess you just proved that." A beat passed before he suggested, "Allies?" Maysilee nodded. Rhiannon let out a sigh of relief, but her anxiety and nausea soon returned when she realized that only one of them can make it out alive.

And she selfishly needs it to be Haymitch.

DAYS HAVE PASSED AND THERE'S ONLY FIVE TRIBUTES LEFT, including Haymitch and Maysilee. Rhiannon's anxiety has only gotten worse. Similar to when she was a child and witnessed her father's first bout of alcohol reliance after her mother died, Rhiannon's behavior has been affected as well. As her eyes remained glued to the broadcast screen, she alternated between gnawing on her fingernails and drumming her fingers against one another to the familiar four-beat rhythm. Currently, she was doing the former, but at this point, her fingernails were almost nonexistent with how low she's bitten them as the raw, reddened skin on her hands radiated a constant burning sensation. Unwanted thoughts about the worst case scenario have infiltrated her mind, too, keeping her at a constant battle with herself.

This time, Ione was beside Rhiannon as they watched the broadcast together. The camera was currently focused on the remaining two Careers who were taking inventory of their dwindling supplies. Given how few people were left in the Games, Rhiannon figured their lack of supplies wasn't too concerning since the Games' end was on the horizon. Just the thought of a victor being crowned sent a shiver up her spine.

In a few days' time, Haymitch would either be returning to District 12, or he would be six feet under.

"Let's check in on our other remaining alliance," Caesar's voice spoke over the video, "Haymitch Abernathy and Maysilee Donner of District 12." Both Rhiannon and Maysilee perked up at the mention of their respective lovers, who were walking through the woods. Once they reached a clearing that led to a cliff with no end in sight, Maysilee suggested turning back. Haymitch disagreed, believing that this spot was more advantageous.

"There's only five of us left," Maysilee retorted. She shrugged, "May as well say goodbye now, anyway." Her eyes flickered towards her feet as she softly shook her head, "I don't want it to come down to you and me."

Haymitch, now sitting up straighter, simply nodded in agreement, "Okay." The two of them stood there, watching each other for a second before Maysilee turned and retreated into the woods. Rhiannon was a little taken aback by the lack of companionship after helping each other survive for the past few days, but at the same time, Rhiannon realized the position that they were in. There can only be one victor, after all. All alliances have to end at some point.

When Rhiannon bit down on her thumbnail, a sharp pain suddenly erupted from the nailbed. She glanced down, noticing that her teeth had broken skin and blood was beginning to peek through.

Ione glanced over and immediately reacted, "Oh, here, let me get you something for that." When she disappeared in the back room, Haymitch kicked a pebble off the side of the cliff. Surprisingly, it had bounced back up from below and returned to him. Both Rhiannon's and Haymitch's brows furrowed in curiosity. Haymitch eyed a larger rock nearby, picked it up with both hands, and threw it off of the cliff. Just like the pebble, the larger rock returned on top of the earth. A laugh suddenly erupted from Haymitch's mouth, a sound Rhiannon's desperately missed since sending him off weeks ago. Goosebumps rose on her skin as a faint smile made its way across her face, comforted by the sound.

When Ione returned with a small bandage, Rhiannon wordlessly held out her injured hand. Ione wrapped the thin, singular strand around her thumb, tucking the white cloth into itself.

"Thanks," Rhiannon replied lowly. She was unsure of what the dynamic between her and Ione would become. What if one of their loves returned but the other's didn't? What if Haymitch and Maysilee make it into the final two and have no choice but to compete against each other? What if neither of them survive? "I'll be back," Rhiannon told Ione before retiring to the small bathroom at the back of the store. Since it was in the merchants' area of the district, the building was connected to running water. The Mercers' apartment above the store had an actual bathroom too, unlike the Sis' outhouse that was separate from the house.

Rhiannon sat on the lid of the toilet, the white porcelain decorated with orange and brown rust. She could see her reflection in the cracked mirror hanging on the wall opposite her, above the equally decaying pedestal sink. Rhiannon propped her elbows on her knees and let her head hang forward, supported by her hands. She screwed her eyes shut as she repeated Wai Po's protection chant on a loop, her fingers following along.

Namo, Guan, Shi, Yin - Pusa, Namo, Guan, Shi - Yin, Pusa, Namo, Guan - Shi, Yin, Pusa -

Rhiannon was unsure if it had the same effectiveness if she didn't assume the proper meditation posture, but over the past few days, reciting this specific chant has also made its way into her daily routine. She rocked back and forth, synchronizing her movements with the rhythm of the chant and the melodic creaking of the toilet seat with every shift of her body weight.

Per usual, Rhiannon lost track of time while performing this behavior. She usually begins by counting how many repetitions of the chant she completes - aiming for anywhere between twenty-one and one hundred eight - but soon enough, she loses count and simply continues on until an external interruption breaks her out of the trance.

This time, it was a rather rough knock on the bathroom door and Ione's muffled voice, "Rhi? Are you okay?" Rhiannon raised her head, noticing the red shadows on her face from where her hands rested in her reflection.

"Um, yeah - I'll be right out." Rhiannon stood up and stepped towards the sink, taking a few seconds to splash water on her face. When she opened the door, Ione was standing on the other side with a concerned expression. Initially, Rhiannon's heart sank, "What happened?" She shuffled past Ione to get a view of the TV, "Did something happen - ?" Rhiannon stopped upon noticing that nothing particularly eventful was on the TV. The interviews of the final tributes' families were playing, the girl from District 1's parents currently expressing their pride for her.

Rhiannon whipped her head back around to look at Ione, who explained, "No, nothing happened. I...I just wanted to check in on you." As close as she and Ione were, Ione didn't frequently witness Rhiannon's anxiety and paranoia in their full glory. Now, with the Games going on - and Haymitch being one of the many contenders - Rhiannon was on edge all hours of the day. Surely, Ione noticed and was genuinely concerned.

Rhiannon mustered up as gracious a smile as possible, "I'm getting by...thanks." She jutted her thumb in the direction of the apothecary, "I'm going to stop by the apothecary to check in on my dad."

"I'll come with you," Ione added on. Rhiannon silently nodded, not minding if she wanted to tag along. The produce store's business was slow anyway, and they had both already completed most of their daily tasks. Rhiannon and Ione exited the front door of the produce store, already propped open due to the warm weather to allow for air circulation.

Orville had been recovering as well as he could. Frankly, he was more embarrassed than anything. After staying at the apothecary for a full week, going in and out of consciousness, Clara sent Orville home with the promise of weekly check-ins. The first one, she came to the Sis' home, but once Orville got well enough, he insisted on coming to the apothecary instead. He didn't want his leg muscles to atrophy.

Today was one of his check-ups, which apparently hadn't started yet by the sight of the empty store when Rhiannon peeked in through the windows. The bell above the door rang as the two girls entered, glancing around at the seemingly vacant building. Only the sound of the holographic television filled the space, set up in a similar corner as the Mercers'.

Clara walked out from the back room, arms full of herbal tinctures and concoctions, taken aback at the sight of an unexpected guest, "Oh! Rhiannon, Ione, hi."

Rhiannon's brows furrowed, "My dad's not here yet?"

Restocking the cabinets, Clara responded, "No, not yet."

Sitting down on two stools off to the side, Ione remained quiet as Rhiannon shrugged, speaking in an annoyed tone, "Probably overslept...." A rush of sympathy came over her as she continued watching the remaining tributes' families being interviewed. "...or he might just be taking a little longer than usual." Clara nodded in agreement, a barely-there smile on her face.

Truthfully, Orville's absence was probably a combination of both. The supplement regimen that Clara prescribed made him sleepy since he's had intermittent insomnia for years, but sleep was crucial for him to heal; after all, the body does most of its healing while one's asleep. Plus, even prior to the flogging, Orville's many injuries permanently affected his gait, forcing him to move slower than most.

When Rhiannon's own face appeared on the broadcast from her interview with the Abernathys, she wondered how she would cope if Haymitch didn't return home. Would she drown her sorrows in liquor too? Numb herself just like her father did?

Soon enough, Orville straggled through the front door, surprised to see his daughter.

"Rhiannon."

"You're late," she replied.

Orville sighed, hobbling towards the central table that Clara cleared off for him, "Well, things take quite a bit longer to do now, y'know." Rhiannon didn't react to her father's excuse - which wasn't exactly false, but still, he could have easily left their house earlier. He respectfully greeted Ione, who returned the gesture. Orville removed his shirt before lying face-down on the table so that Clara could inspect how his wounds were healing. Orville's lashes were so deep that they required stitches, that of which Clara did herself.

"I think these stitches can come out today, Orville," she told him after glancing over his injuries. "I'm going to put one more coat of herbs over you, though, just as a precaution against infection."

Orville didn't object, replying with a simple, "Okay." With her attention on her father, Rhiannon hadn't realized that the broadcast had returned to the Games. Everyone in the room's attention turned towards the hologram when a high-pitched scream suddenly filtered through the speakers.

Ione stood up from her seat and stepped towards the TV, "Maysilee?" Rhiannon straightened her posture, internally confirming that she was fairly sure that was Maysilee's scream. The camera focused on Haymitch, who looked towards the woods in alert. Rhiannon half-expected him to stay put as Maysilee most likely met her end. They ended their alliance, after all. Instead, Haymitch broke off into a sprint towards the sound.

When he finally made it to the scene, a flock of the pink candy-floss colored birds with skewer-like beaks were surrounding Maysilee's body. As soon as they noticed Haymitch's presence, they flew away, revealing the damage done to Maysilee's body to the cameras. The last bird got in one final peck in Maysilee's throat before joining its relatives. A strangled noise erupted from Ione's throat as Maysilee's eyes widened in panic, attempting to stop the bleeding although everyone was aware that the damage was irreparable.

Haymitch, in disbelief, collapsed onto his knees beside her body. He skimmed over the multiple wounds in her flesh before landing on the largest wound on her neck that she had stopped trying to tend to, realizing that this was her end. Haymitch grabbed onto Maysilee's bloody hand with both of his and remained by her side until she died. With how many wounds she had, it didn't take long for her succumb to blood loss.

Boom.

From beside Rhiannon, Ione wailed into her hands, mumbling pleas of "No...no..." Rhiannon wrapped her arms around Ione's shoulders, pulling her close like she did at the reaping. Ione's body trembled against Rhiannon's as her muffled sobs shook her entire body. Ione's hands dropped as she let out a heart-wrenching wail at full volume, collapsing onto her knees. Rhiannon wasn't prepared to keep Ione's entire body upright and ended up falling onto the ground with her.

Rhiannon stroked Ione's hair as she repeated, "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry, Ione...I'm so sorry..." Clara, having just retrieved the herbs from the cabinet, soon joined the two girls on the floor as she offered Ione her condolences. Orville stayed in his same spot, unsure of how to comfort his daughter's friend. Knowing from firsthand experience, nothing could ease the pain of losing the one you love.

Clara eventually left the two girls on the floor as she tended to Orville's wounds, but Rhiannon and Ione remained on the floor of the apothecary shop for the next few hours. Rhiannon tuned into the broadcast whenever Haymitch's name was mentioned and Clara periodically checked on how Orville's back was absorbing the herbal mixture. Ione, meanwhile, had gone into some sort of catatonic shock. She sat frozen on the floor, eyes locked onto nothing in particular in front of her. When she finally blinked back into the present, she announced that she was going to return home. Neither Rhiannon or Clara pressed her, respecting her need for space to grieve.

"I'm going to prepare some more paste for another coat. We might have to wait to take the stitches out," Clara told Rhiannon. Rhiannon nodded in recognition as Clara returned to the counter adjacent to where Orville had now fallen asleep. With nothing else to preoccupy her, Rhiannon tuned back into the Games. She was welcomed with the sight of a tribute being mauled by a pack of the deceivingly-cute fluffy golden squirrels.

Rhiannon looked away from the screen, but since her only other options were looking at her sleeping father or the square that was still coated with his own blood from the day prior, she decided that her other options weren't necessarily better than the broadcast itself. The tribute's canon fired, and the cameras quickly switched over to something more exciting: two other tributes fighting. Thankfully, neither of them were Haymitch, but one was the final remaining Career, a girl from District 1.

Her appearance was the polar opposite of her fellow District 1 female tribute. This Career was large and strong. Her competitor - a male from an outlying district - was short and thin. Malnourished, Rhiannon guessed. He was no match for her. It didn't take long for the Career to slash the boy's abdomen with her ax, severing his body into two.

Boom.

Rhiannon grew nauseous, not just at the sight of the boy's innards spilling out onto the grass, but also at Caesar's announcement that only two tributes remained: the girl from District 1 and Haymitch. Rhiannon's fingers returned to their dance.

Namo, Guan, Shi, Yin - Pusa, Namo, Guan, Shi - Yin, Pusa, Namo, Guan - Shi, Yin, Pusa -

Rhiannon decided that she would not leave from her spot in front of this screen until a victor was chosen. She had only talked to Clara's family a handful of times, but Rhiannon figured they would understand her predicament if it came to her spending the night - or multiple nights - on the floor of their store. Her home in the Seam was too far that, even if she were to sprint at her absolute top speed, that would be more than enough time for the final showdown to occur.

The broadcast alternated between footage following the Career and Haymitch navigate different parts of the woods. Haymitch was finishing the last bit of bread he saved from his sponsor. As Caesar Flickerman narrated, a map of the arena replaced the live broadcast with two dots symbolizing the final tributes' locations. Rhiannon felt herself panic at the close proximity of the dots, the space between which decreasing by the second.

One, two, three, four - four, three, two, one - one, two, three, four - four, three, two, one -

The live surveillance feed replaced the map, which had shrunk down to fit into the bottom right corner, the dots eventually becoming so close that they appeared to overlap.

Caesar Flickerman hummed in excitement, "Hmm, it looks like our final two tributes will be meeting very soon!" The rustling of bushes and snaps of branches could be heard through the screen, and the cameras focused on Haymitch going on high alert. Certainly, he had been counting the number of canons and worked out that he was among the final two left standing. Rhiannon figured Haymitch might try to take cover and wait for the Career to reveal herself, but it appeared that Haymitch was ready to go on the offensive.

He removed a knife from the belt he stole off of a fallen tribute's body as he scoured the tree line for signs of life. With the cameras focused on his face, Haymitch had noticed the girl's presence before the audience and began running forward. Rhiannon went to switch to biting her nails, but her teeth were met with the fabric of a bandage instead. She switched to the opposite thumb, inevitably going to need a bandage for that nail within a few minutes. The camera angle zoomed out enough to get both the Career and Haymitch in the same shot.

Once they got into close enough proximity of one another, they each threw their weapons: the Career, her ax, and Haymitch, his knife. Haymitch was able to dodge her ax, but his knife embedded itself in her shoulder. He threw it with such force that it knocked her onto her back, giving Haymitch an opportunity to end it all. Unlike her other female Career counterparts, this tribute was tall and hardened with muscle. But what Haymitch lacked in size, he made up for in speed.

While the Career was occupied with removing the knife from her shoulder, Haymitch straddled her body like the male Career from 2 had done to him earlier. However, the male Career had done it with much more finesse than Haymitch did. He didn't get a sturdy enough hold on the Career's arms and she was able to use her strength to wrestle one free to stab Haymitch in his side. His arm was raised in preparation to impale her chest, but with the sudden wound, his body lurched forward and his knife landed in the Career's right eye.

She screamed and began flailing around as she tried to dislodge it, meanwhile Haymitch rolled off of her to remove the knife from his own abdomen. After pulling the knife out of his flesh, the Career yanked the knife free from her eye - only, the eyeball had come out of its socket with the blade. She immediately held her nondominant hand over her eye in an attempt to stop the bleeding to no avail. At the sight of the rogue eyeball on the ground, Haymitch was frozen in shock, allowing the Career to run over to her discarded ax from earlier.

Haymitch returned to his senses when he saw her grab her weapon from his peripheral vision, quickly pushing himself onto his feet. When he stood, the girl was already charging towards him. Even with only one working arm since her opposite hand was covering her empty eye socket, she easily swung her ax in one fell swoop, digging itself into Haymitch's stomach. He collapsed onto all fours, holding his body weight up with one hand as he used the other to put pressure on his gaping wound.

Rhiannon let out a whimper when she saw Haymitch's intestines begin to peek out from the laceration. She covered her mouth with one hand and held her throat with the other, attempting to force down the vomit undoubtedly making its way up her esophagus.

The force with which the Career swung her ax pulled her body weight forward and caused her to become off-balanced. Her instability combined with her compromised vision left her disoriented enough for Haymitch to stand up and stagger in the opposite direction, using one hand to hold in his intestines.

"No, Haymitch, what are you doing?!" Rhiannon asked aloud when she noticed him going in the direction of the cliff - a dead end. Her mouth went agape in fear as the next events unraveled. Rhiannon's cry woke up Orville, who tuned into the intense broadcast himself.

The Career finally found her footing and turned around, presented with the perfect opportunity to kill Haymitch right then and there. Tears flowed freely down Rhiannon's face as she pleaded, having moved so closely to the screen that her trembling figure caused her nose to momentarily break through the hologram, "No, no, no, no...Please, no..." Finally arriving at the clearing, Haymitch glanced over his shoulder at the Career to see her use her last bout of energy to throw her ax towards him. He completely collapsed onto all fours when he saw the weapon fly. It flew over his head and down into the cliff.

All that could be heard were the tributes' labored breaths. Not even a full three seconds later, it returned and landed square in the Career's head.

Boom.

Haymitch didn't even have enough strength to look up at his fallen foe. He was obviously coming closer to losing consciousness by the second, his lone arm shaking from holding up his body weight. From past experience, Rhiannon had learned not to celebrate too early. Until she heard the words from Claudius Templesmith's mouth, she would remain on edge.

The announcer's voice shortly echoed from the television, "Ladies and gentlemen, the victor of the 50th Hunger Games...Haymitch Abernathy!"

Similar to when his name was announced at the reaping, Rhiannon felt her lungs depleted of their entire oxygen supply. She pressed her palm deep into the left side of her chest, searching for her heartbeat. The racing rhythm served as a reminder that this was real.

This is real, Rhiannon reassured herself.

Haymitch won. He's coming home.

d12's only living victor 🙇🏼‍♀️ go off king. haymitch bby deserves so much better 🫤

sorry you won't exactly be living the dream life in this fic either babe...ily though 🫶🏼