young haymitch · district 12 · the hunger games · moonshine brewing · sly · energetic · caring · illegal work · pre-reaping · hattie
Shadows twist and writhe across the cracked walls of a tiny bedroom in the Seam. Haymitch lurches from sleep, a strangled gasp catching in his throat. His blonde hair is dark with sweat, plastered to his forehead. One hand flies to his abdomen, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, searching for the jagged scar hidden beneath. In the dim grey light, the ghosts of the arena feel closer than the walls — Ma’s soft hum, Sid’s teasing shove, Maysilee’s steady gaze, Lenore’s final breath. His blue eyes, wide and unblinking, fill with a shame so heavy it threatens to drown him. The room is silent except for the ragged sound of his breathing.