Song inspiration: My Tears Are Becoming a Sea (Slowed), Wait – M83

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Tears of a Decade

Darkness. As far as the eye could see. Apart from the distant insects, whose constant humming had swelled as soon as the sun had set, the jungle around Elowen was as silent as the summer nights in District 12. If not for the oppressive heat, she could have simply closed her eyes and wished herself away from here. But the crushing air pressure, making her skin warm and sweaty and her body feel heavy and exhausted, was a constant reminder that she was far from home.

The last rays of the sun had disappeared behind the horizon a while ago. The summary of the tributes who had died today – only the girl from 6 – had appeared in the sky minutes before. Elowen had barely recognized her face between the dense treetops, only the number of her District.

It was time. Since she had found this tree, she had not left it often. Twice a day: morning and evening, in the safe darkness of night. Elowen had listened to the silence long enough to make sure no one was around to cross her path. So she slowly swung her legs to the side until she was sitting sideways on the thick branch she had made herself at home on. Drops of moisture ran down her neck as she pulled the backpack onto her back. Then she stretched out her arms and let herself fall into the air. Her shaking legs on the rough trunk were her only safety from falling five meters below.

Minutes later, after making sure not to make too much noise with every movement, she finally reached the ground. Now Elowen allowed herself to move a little faster. After the creatures she had encountered down here, she wanted to waste as little time as possible.

The moon was large and round. It had been since the beginning of the Games. The only sign that it wasn't real. Elowen was glad of it. Without it, she would be practically blind. It cast just enough light to make out the plants around her, their color palette limited to shades of black and gray.

When she reached her water source – a wet pool almost completely covered by flora – Elowen carefully crouched down. She pulled the metal bottle from her backpack and dipped it into the water. It took barely more than a second and the bottle was full. The metal squeaked as she closed the lid. She was just about to get up again, just about to start her way back, when the insects around her lost their rhythm. The constant humming shattered, partially hushed, and Elowen stopped moving. With vigor, she turned around once and looked searchingly through the dark jungle. Nothing.

Finally she heard the trampling, which echoed loudly and splashingly across the damp ground. From the opposite direction of her tree. Elowen didn't hesitate and started moving, crouching down through the undergrowth. The steps were coming closer and she knew that the person was in a hurry, probably on the run. Otherwise only the Careers would allow themselves to be so loud. If at all.

Elowen was still creeping forward, but she wasn't really making any progress at this speed. And to get to her tree, she would have to leave the bushes. The trampling was so close that Elowen could hear the tribute's breathing. Rattling and gasping, as if he had been running away for an eternity. As if he had been trying to escape for far too long.

A deep, booming crack ripped through the forest. A moment later, birds were squawking wildly, wings were beating frantically through the night, and the ground shook as one of the trees fell into the mud with a shattering thud.

Two things happened at once. Elowen flinched from the falling tree that loomed over her like a shadow and jumped backwards. And just a few meters away from her, a boy came into her field of vision. He skidded to a stop some distance in front of her as the tree blocked his path.

A gasp escaped his lips. Desperate. The 7 on his shirt was dirty, just like the rest of his body. He didn't look much older than her, around fifteen. But less lanky than her, although that was no great surprise.

The boy had not noticed her. He was staring, transfixed, at the fallen tree that had appeared out of nowhere in his path. Elowen had seen enough Hunger Games on TV to know that this had nothing to do with naturalness.

She wanted to use the boy from 7's confusion to disappear back into the bushes. Slowly, Elowen took a first step forward. But then he suddenly turned towards her, frantically and with his eyes wide open. A startled sound escaped his lips and he darted back, away from her. Only then, upon closer inspection, did he realise who she was; perhaps he recognised her by her height or the 12 on her own clothing.

Elowen's heart was pounding in her throat. She knew she would not stand a chance against this boy. Not because he was particularly strong or scrawny, but because she was small and weak. Rye from District 9, whom she had killed by accident, had been an exception. A blessing in disguise. Unique.

She didn't know this boy's name. She had not known Rye's either until his face had appeared in the sky that evening. Unlike Rye, he didn't seem interested in getting any closer to her. Nevertheless, she slowly raised her hands to signal to him that she was unarmed. He was too hectic, too sweaty, too exhausted. Panic and despair were clearly written on his face. How strange it was that someone like him was alive while Ramon – big and strong as he had been – had died days ago. Elowen had been sad, more because he was from 12 than because she had had a personal connection to him. But mostly she had been surprised. Because she would never have expected to outlive Ramon.

The boy's body trembled with exertion. His attention was focused on the ground; he didn't think she could harm him. He breathed greedily and in gasps, as if he would otherwise suffocate. Elowen's legs moved of their own accord. Away from him, further toward her tree. But when he saw that she was trying to flee, his eyes fixed on her again.

Several emotions flashed across his face. Fear. Hopelessness. Regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered in Elowen's direction, just loud enough for her to hear. She was about to turn on her heel when he started screaming. "Here. I'm here. Come and get me!"

And then the boy was the one who turned on his heel and disappeared into the jungle. He had been there a moment ago, and now his footsteps were fading away like a splash. Not a second too soon, because the same splashing sound echoed back to Elowen from the direction he had originally come from. There was no way to escape. She could have turned and run away, but the moment of shock had frozen her to the ground, and now the two figures were already close enough to see her. They would just run after her until she either gave up or they caught up with her.

The Careers approached Elowen, stomped over the trampled undergrowth and stopped a few meters away from her, their weapons already drawn.

Elowen's survival instinct came to her far too late. Suddenly she ran, sprinted through the swamp from which she had just scooped up her water. Ran, ran, ran. As long as she could get away. She had already left her backpack in one of the bushes when she had met the boy.

Adrenaline pumped through Elowen's blood. She knew the Careers were chasing her, even if she didn't hear them. She heard nothing except the water beneath her feet, splashing against the soles of her shoes. Maybe she could hide in the darkness. She was small. She was unnoticeable. Maybe–

A shape appeared in the darkness ahead of her and Elowen stumbled. She dodged to the right and quickened her pace again, running on, her eyes scanning the area for a possible hiding place; for any possibility of escaping this fate. But her breath was already faltering in her lungs, scraping against the inside of her throat — two weeks of training had done little to improve her meager endurance.

There was a hissing sound behind her. Not a snake, not an animal. Different, more even and static and–

Sharp, searing pain exploded in Elowen's shoulder, and she stumbled forward again, only this time she could not manage to get back on her feet. The burning of her skin was too distracting. She fell and for a moment, her body disappeared in the water of the swamp. Then she pushed herself up again, her hand clutching her shoulder. There was a knife lodged in it.

Elowen had no idea how to deal with wounds. There had been a course on this during training, but the blood in her ears was pounding so loudly that she could not concentrate on anything or recall any clear memory. She was lost.

The water splashed behind her as her pursuers caught up with her. The Careers slowed when they saw Elowen kneeling in the water. She looked up at the two tributes and met Magnus's eyes first, who skillfully avoided hers. Not ignorantly, but with the weight of downturned lips.

Cashmere, who looked so different than before the Games, was the first to wake up from the brief silence. After her many performances, Elowen had somehow expected the girl to look more enthusiastic. In the golden clothes and the golden makeup, she had looked so much older. Like a grown woman. But now, as she towered over her in the black of the night, nothing but distance graced her face. No arrogance, no malice, no superiority. No age. She was just a teenage girl, nothing more.

"The girl from Twelve." It was a statement, but a hint of respect shone on her face. No one would have expected that Elowen, of all people, would still be alive at this point. Cashmere's head turned to Magnus and nodded down at me. "Didn't you become friends with her?"

Magnus shrugged, still unable to look at Elowen. "If you wanna call it that."

Suddenly, Haymitch's voice echoed in Elowen's ear. Haymitch, who had warned her about Magnus. She remembered how upset she had been about it back then. It suddenly seemed like years ago.

"You have to kill her," Cashmere said firmly. "It'd only be fair."

Magnus's eyes widened, and he started to shake his head, but a long look from Cashmere made him exhale through his nose in a defeated manner. He glanced at his spear, then, for the first time, directly at Elowen, who was watching him.

Elowen's body trembled. Every fiber of her body trembled with such intensity that the water around her rippled. Her heart pounded so hard that she could barely hear anything. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her vision blurred.

Somewhere above her, Cashmere sighed. "He'll be quick, little one, don't worry. Just close your eyes."

A sob ran over Elowen's trembling lips as she looked at the two Career tributes one last time before lowering her head. She squeezed her eyelids tightly shut to block out everything else as well. Still, she could hear Magnus stepping towards her, raising his weapon and aiming it. She almost had the feeling as if she could already feel the metal tickling against her skin. Just the anticipation of what was to come.

"Everything will be fine, little one," Cashmere whispered, too quietly for the cameras to pick up. "Think of home."

And that was exactly what Elowen did. She thought of District 12. Of the Seam where everything was gray and covered in ash. She thought of her mother. Who was probably already crying, her back turned to the television, if she was even watching. She would be better off without her daughter, Elowen knew. At least in the long run. It would be easier, putting aside the feelings. Putting aside your humanity.

The air hissed. For a moment, pain exploded around Elowen. Her body was ablaze, pierced by heat. Too hot to withstand. So hot to melt her from the inside. Hot enough to quickly lock her nerves. Seconds. Just a few seconds. Maybe just a fraction of an eye blink. She had no sense of time anymore.

Until the world around her finally lost dimension. Like a light that lost more and more energy until it went out completely. Until there was no energy left to keep it going. Until its senses finally lost contact with the outside world.

The darkness that followed was more intense than anything she had ever known. Deeper, stronger, more all-encompassing. Endless. But unlike before, she no longer felt any fear. This place was free of fear or torment. All that was left here was infinite security. And so Elowen became one with the darkness.

oOo

"The duo from District One has struck again. After a quick chase, Magnus Goldman has managed to eliminate the female tribute from District Twelve," the news anchor announced in a polite, informative tone, a slight but measured smile on her lips. She rattled off the message as neutrally as all the other messages. Indifferent to its content. So indifferent that she didn't even mention Elowen's name. Not that Effie was any better. She wasn't. Elowen had been dead for hours, but Effie had been too busy with herself to notice.

Effie forced herself to watch the replay of her death. It was the least the girl deserved. But she deserved so much more than that. So much more than this cruel end. Effie forced herself to watch until the end. Every second. Again and again. Even when her vision had already blurred before her eyes and a wall of tears was all she could see. She felt like she had to do more.

But most of all, she felt guilty. For not being there when Elowen had died. For being distracted. For having her mind on Haymitch instead of focusing on her job. Not that her focus would have changed the outcome. Still. It was unprofessional and disrespectful, and this child had deserved more. Effie had failed. And now she was paying the price. She was grateful because she deserved nothing but to feel horrible. Part of her wondered if she deserved worse. But she wasn't ready to follow that path of thought yet. She was too afraid of what she would find there.

That night, which was almost over after her breakdown anyway, Effie didn't sleep a wink. She could not. The voices in her head screamed at each other, tormented themselves, didn't know what to do with themselves or the situation. So Effie did what she did best: she ran away.

She danced from party to party, without meaning, without reason and with a lot of alcohol in her blood. It only allowed her to forget partially. Deep in her stomach there was still a darkness that had only been pushed back for the moment. But she would think about that when the time came.

After Elowen's death, everything happened rather quickly. The sun had only just risen behind the shimmering skyscrapers, and Effie had not been at the first party for long when the Careers set their sights on the boy from District 7. They probably wanted to get it over with quickly. Effie was grateful for that. The sooner these Games were over, the sooner she could return to her old life.

The long-awaited end came just half an hour later. Apart from Cashmere and Magnus, no one was left to be hunted by the Careers. All the other twenty-two children were dead. It was the first time that Effie had opened herself to this fact and realized it for what it was. How ignorant and cruel. How unbelievable. It was real, it was all real and she had not given it deeper thought until now. And most of the people who were stoned and partying around her probably had not either. How could that be? How unbelievable that a society functioned like that. They really had to be heartless.

Cashmere and Magnus had decided to stay together until the end of the hunt. And now it was time to break that alliance and face each other in battle. A battle in which Magnus lasted longer than Effie had expected. Unlike the female tribute from 1, he had only killed twice and had been rather reserved overall. And in the back of her mind she could still hear Elowen's voice, which had only spoken good things about him.

The reality, however, was that Magnus had also volunteered for the Hunger Games. And for good reason. The fight turned into a show that the Capitols were only too eager to witness. The cheering around Effie was loud and wild and ecstatic. The crowd was caught up in a frenzy that held them warm and caressing in its claws, whispering how irrelevant the world was and that all that mattered was this moment. This was what they lived for. This world demanded a victor and it got one.

Cashmere won the Hunger Games before the official start of the 10th gameday. And even though it was still so early in the morning, she was already a legend. She and her brother. The pair of twins who had survived the arena. A rarity. Like the limited edition of a product that was re-released every year. People loved it, fought over it, wanted a piece of the rare cake for themselves.

And since the people had not had enough to celebrate yet, this was seen as the perfect opportunity to give them another reason to rejoice. A huge event was spun around the normal coronation ceremony. Almost a double coronation, since Gloss and Cashmere were more popular as a pair than alone. Even if that would certainly have its downsides for both of them.

Effie had no reason to celebrate. Last night weighed too heavily on her shoulders. The pain Haymitch had caused her quickly turned to anger. After the Games were over, she saw him once. A fleeting, disinterested glance that he threw at her in the hallway of the penthouse before he made his exit. The coronation wasn't a mandatory event and so he disappeared on the first train back to District 12. Without a final word. Without a final explanation. Without taking Elowen's body with him. No, the coward that he was, he left her to bear this burden alone.

It was the catalyst for the hatred that grew between the two of them. If Effie had not hated him before, she certainly did after she was forced to release Elowen's body for transport alone. From then on, her disgust towards Haymitch began to grow.

Effie tried to forget. But she was a resentful person. She could not ignore how Haymitch's personality had turned inside out. She could not accept that he had thrown her into a hole of pain that would repeat itself every year from now on. But the hatred was too great for the unanswered questions in the back of her mind. It pushed itself to the fore like a hot fire; made her forget the many intimate moments in which he had opened up to her; made her view of him fall back into the old image; made her believe that he was the bad guy; made her forget his role change.

Repress, not forget. Effie was good at repressing things. Pretending they never happened. And so, Effie began to banish Haymitch and the 64th Hunger Games from her mind as soon as he left the city. Started to act as if that first year had never happened; as if the 65th Hunger Games had been the first year of her career as an escort; as if she had never known Haymitch personally.

oOo

Haymitch had known from the beginning that this girl would break Effie. He wasn't going to stay to watch. There was nothing left for him to do here in the Capitol anyway. It had only been this one white envelope and he didn't want to wait to push his luck. The coronation would be one of those events that made the Capitols go even more crazy than usual. Although he believed that Gloss and Cashmere would soon learn what it meant to be a pair of victors in a crowd of perverted, insane people. Siblings or not. It would just take the right amount of money.

It wasn't yet noon when the train left the station of this damned city to take him home. Thank God. Even though his ghosts would follow him to the front door. And he knew that Effie would join them this year. He had hoped to avoid her, to not have to face the violence of her personality again until next year.

Effie hated him. Haymitch had realized that when their eyes met in the penthouse hallway. There had been nothing but loathing and disgust in her eyes. And even though that had been his intention, even though that was exactly what he had wanted to achieve, the fact pressed against his chest, taking his breath away. She hated him with all her fervor. A small part of him still hoped that she was smart enough to see behind his farce. To understand what was really going on. He had given her so many pieces of the puzzle in the past few weeks, had given her enough reason to doubt. And he had seen the doubt in her blue eyes when he had thrown his devastating tirade of lies at her. Lies that Effie believed to be the truth. He could not explain the hatred any other way.

The first thing he did upon arriving in District 12 was dispose of the jewelry box. There was no reason for Haymitch to keep it. It was a reminder of a past, false time that would soon seem like a dream to him.

He could not bring himself to throw the little box away, as he realized in the drunkenness that had surrounded him since the train ride. The first thing he had done after boarding in the Capitol was to put a bottle to his lips. Haymitch had never stopped doing it. And now he could not bring himself to part with the jewelry that had been meant for her. Even though she had never owned it, it was his last relic. His last memory of her that would remain with him.

After some struggle with himself, Haymitch threw the box into the furthest, most devastated corner of his house. He would not be able to find it in all the rubbish when he was sober. Lost, like his soul, which lingered somewhere around here as well.

Days passed. Too quickly for Haymitch to realize, because he never stopped drinking. In 12, he was rarely sober. There was nothing to distract him from the pain. And so he drank himself into unconsciousness and allowed his brain to forget. Not that he ever actually forgot, but pretending he had no past was usually enough. Haymitch Abernathy was a man of the present, with no past and no future.

Months passed. He didn't really notice. The Victory Tour was coming up and somewhere in the back of his mind, Haymitch knew that Effie would be coming for the celebrations. It was her duty. Not his. And so he stayed away; hid in his house. Waited for her to come and get him. But she didn't. So it could not be that important. Haymitch was relieved.

More months passed. Summer in District 12 was both better and worse. The cold of winter often robbed his senses of the power to focus on the state of his mind. The heat cooked him and his house into a hot broth that left him absent-mindedly vegetating for most of the time.

But no alcohol in the world was powerful enough to stop the world from turning. And so time passed. Faster and faster and before Haymitch knew it, the next Reaping was upon him. Another year survived. In the blink of an eye.

Haymitch had feared that seeing Effie again would be difficult. That she would look at him with a hostile eye for the rest of her career in 12. Whatever he had expected didn't happen. No, the opposite was the case.

When Effie Trinket picked him up from his house on the morning of the Reaping for the 65th Hunger Games, there wasn't a hint of emotion on her face. A mask of neutrality was drawn over her features. Distance and coldness, but not even unfriendliness. As if they were strangers. As if they had never met before. As if the last year had never happened. Something in Haymitch broke at the sight.

oOo

Haymitch felt like a stranger. Effie was relieved. She had practiced for a long time, perfected hiding behind this facade. The past year had not been easy, perhaps even her hardest. She didn't want to and wasn't allowed to think about it any further. Anything else would go against her intention to suppress it.

Effie hid under multiple layers of Capitol. Makeup, wig, dress. Everything as over the top and garish as ever. All she had to do was imagine she was playing a role. The person she would be playing for the next few weeks would not be herself.

Haymitch was completely drunk. And once he had made sure that Effie wasn't Effie, he adjusted to her rhythm. He sneered at her outfit and let her escort him to the Reaping.

The pain from last year didn't return. It had not disappeared, but she didn't allow herself to feel anything. She was an ice sculpture who would not reveal a spark of emotion. At least not to him.

That didn't mean things could go back to how they were last year. Not what had developed in the middle of it all, but what had come first. The alliance. The friendship. Effie wanted none of that. She didn't want to be near him, didn't want to be alone with him. So she took care of everything on her own – tasks that should have been shared between the two of them. Effie kept him away from everything and out of everything. Haymitch didn't protest. Only when the tributes died was he at her side to release the bodies. He owed the children that much respect.

In the first few years they argued constantly. Just because she didn't want help didn't mean that Haymitch didn't have responsibilities as a mentor. Duties that he threw overboard along with all the other responsibilities because Effie wanted to work with him as little as possible. There were just things that Effie, as an escort, wasn't authorized to handle. He didn't care.

She tried to fight it, to fight against him. Nothing helped. Threatening, screaming, forcing. Haymitch was a lost cause. Brutal arguments that often ended with him throwing a bottle. Even if he missed on purpose.

The tributes died year after year. Again and again. Death after death after death, and Effie had trouble coping. With each passing year, the crack in her heart grew deeper; the mental burden grew greater and greater. But the more her conscience crumbled, the bubblier the mask became. A facade that rarely slipped, that she rarely took off. Only when she thought no one was watching. And the deep, desperate pain that surfaced in those seconds reminded Haymitch that she was still the same person she had been back then. No matter how much she tried to change on the outside. Pain that took his breath away, that made him turn on his heel because it brought with it memories of his own that he didn't want to confront.

The more time passed, the more Haymitch felt like that damned first year had been nothing but a dream. That Effie had not been the escort of 12 in the 64th Hunger Games. That the entire year had simply vanished into the stream of his drinking like so many others before, leaving him with nothing to remember.

At some point, long after Finnick had expanded their small group of victors, they slowly started talking to each other again. At first, never more than the bare minimum. But the years went by and more and more grass grew over the 64th Hunger Games. The more they got along, the more the nasty arguments turned into more harmless teasing, which both of them could lose a barely noticeable smile over. But that was about it.

Effie became better and better at dealing with the victors. Even Chaff eventually ended up wrapped around her finger. Probably because the whole thing – Haymitch – was out of the way. At some point, between all the alcohol he barely noticed – and his consumption only really picked up after the 64th Games – Effie gradually became part of the friend group of victors, who began to respect her more and more. No one could deny who she was, how she was.

And when Haymitch finally woke up, jolted awake as if by a huge, unavoidable storm, the first person he turned to was Effie. When that young girl volunteered for her sister, ten years later, his gaze sought hers and hers alone, despite the thick fog clouding his vision. Her own eyes were already resting on his. He could almost feel them being pulled into the gravity of something new, powerless to stop the way everything seemed to rewind to the beginning, a decade later.

It felt like, after years of holding his breath, Haymitch was finally breaking through the surface of the water. And this time, there was no turning back.

-

Dear readers,

I'm not quite sure how to begin this final Author's Note. This fanfiction only exists because my other fic, Figure It Out, exists. It came to be because, at some point while writing, I had the twisted idea that it wouldn't make sense for Hayffie's entire romance to develop within the 75th Hunger Games. That would be far too short a time frame, and they're no longer young enough — nor have they known each other too briefly — for them to fall in love over the course of a single season. Especially considering that Haymitch went into the reaping with the mindset of going into the arena, and, with some luck, to District 13. No, such a quick romance wouldn't have been believable.

At the time, I was also reading another German Hayffie fanfiction on fanfiktion.de, one that had long since been completed and fit remarkably well with my own ideas. I asked the author if I could rewrite it, and before I knew it, this whole thing had turned into a massive project — 41 chapters. Well, what can I say? At times, writing this story was the most fun I've ever had. I have a tendency toward the dramatic, and the thought that this heartbreak had been lingering for 11 years yet never fully left their system kept me up at night.

I really hope you enjoyed this journey. Even though I never received much feedback, I noticed new readers coming along from time to time, and that was enough for me. I write mainly because I love writing, so the stats are just a bonus. Thank you to everyone who stuck around until the end! :)

There's not much left to say. I started this fic when I was around 16 or 17. I waited a long time to publish it because FIO was still in its early stages back then. And wow — look what it has turned into. I'm proud. Not necessarily because of the worldbuilding or an especially unique plot — because while it was exciting, it wasn't revolutionary. I'm proud of the writing style that developed along the way. Proud that I saw it through to the end. There were definitely moments when I lacked motivation or struggled with severe writer's block. It took even two years longer to translate it!

And with that, my time in the Hayffie fandom comes to a close. I have no plans for further stories here, and I think it'll stay that way because I now have my own book ideas! Still, it has been an honor to write for this fandom! :)

Much love,
Skyllen :)

12/22/2018 – 01/23/2023