Chapter 112

Katniss

I step through the doorway of Haymitch's house, bottle of booze in hand. I hadn't been up to checking on him lately, but I know Peeta has once or twice. "Haymitch," I say, while hanging up my coat on the croooked coat hanger beside the door. I repeat his name again, but get no response. He's probably just hungover and passed out on the floor somewhere.

Sure enough, there's Haymitch lying facedown on the couch. "At least you made it to the couch this time," I mumble. At first, I think of resorting to my old method: pouring a pitcher of cold water down his back. But I decide not too when I see his knife, which sits untouched beside him. "Haymitch," I say, shaking his shoudler. Still, I get no response.

Heart sinks when I notice that he isn't breathing regularly. "Haymitch. . ." I whisper. My eyes sting but I hold back tears. I could be making it up, imagining the worst. I force myself to check his pulse, only to find almost nothing. I wasn't imagining it. The worst has happened.

Everything seems to be in slow motion now. The bottle falls from my grasp, shattering into tiny pieces of glass onto the floor. How could everything change, in just a matter of seconds? How could everything go from so good to so horrible that quickly? Who am I kidding? I've had plenty of experiences with the situation. I know that one second everything can be normal, then, not anymore. I scream for Peeta, or anyone, really. I know someone will hear me. If not Peeta, then Annie.

Within a matter of seconds, Peeta throws open the door and runs to my side. I can't breath. I can't think. Numbness and pain overwhelm me. "He wasn't. . .I didn't. . ." I wheeze, attempting to get out at least a sentence. I can't help but feel boiling anger towards him. It's almost as if I blame him for the inevidable. Peeta's mouth is moving, but I don't listen.

Memories of my old mentor flood my brain until I can hardly think. I blame him for drinking. I blame myself for not taking care of him well enough. Most of all, I blame the Capitol; the creators of the Games; President Snow. They pushed him to become a drunk. He was too weak, too afraid to live in the real world. And now he's gone because of it. "Katniss, he isn't dead. Not yet. Go get your mother," Peeta tells me. For a moment, I can't seem to work my legs. I can't seem to do anything. "Katniss, can you hear me?" Then, I have a new feeling of pure strength, something I didn't know I had. He helps me to my feet, and I sprint out the door, towards the apothecary shop, where my mother is working.

The inside is cramped and smells pungently of medical supplies. "Mom!" I scream, unable to spot her through the crowd of patients and doctors. I spin around, surely making a fool of myself. I ignore the others though, and finally catch sight of her. She's at a young, coughing girl's side. "Mom, it's Haymitch. He isn't breathing."

I can't quite read her emotionfilled expression. When it comes to her job, she's focused and serious. People listen to her. I guess, somehow, it ran through the family. "Blake, Griffin, get the stretcher and follow me." She gives the two different orders, but my mind becomes fuzzy, once again. I'm just thankful that I still have the strength to stand up. My mother grabs my arm and I'm running back to Haymitch's house. I don't want to go back inside. I don't want to see him, lying there lifelessly, again. I do though, only to find Peeta giving Haymitch CPR, like Finnick did to him so many years ago. My mother is saying words to him, words that I don't listen to or care about. I'm focused on the other doctors and Haymitch. Tears brim my eyes, but I beg myself not to cry. Not here, not in front of my mother. I refuse to be weak in front of her. I have to be strong.

It's when Peeta wraps is arms around me, that I let tears fall. Not just because I couldn't hold them any longer, but because I realize that this is real. It's real for both of us. Neither of us wanted this to happen. Neither of us wanted him to die. Even if he's not dead yet, it could just be a matter of minutes. "I'm sorry you had to find him, Katniss," Peeta whispers, smoothing my hair with his hand. His chin rests on the top of my head and my face is pressed into his chest. For now, I'm hidden from the rest of them.

"Katniss, we're taking him to Massie's. She's the best healer we have," my mother tells me.

"I want to go with," I reply. Immediately, she and Peeta argue with me. "Please. I need to make sure that he's okay. I won't get in the way. I'll stay outside. Please." My mother sighs for a good twenty seconds, but agrees, reluctantly.

"I'm not letting you go alone. He was my mentor too," Peeta says.

"Is, Peeta. He's still alive." Before Peeta can speak again, I turn away from him and follow my mother out the door.

At Massie's, we're forced to wait in the tiny entry way. I don't argue with her. I know I wouldn't be able to handle it in the kitchen, where they're working. I focus on the patterns and details of the house, which is so similar to my old one. The fireplace is in the same spot, the walls the same gray color.

"He's going to be okay," I whisper. I don't think I'm talking to Peeta. I think I'm telling myself that everything is going to be fine. I'm giving that sense of reassurance to myself. Without it, I'm not sure what I'd do.

"You can see him now," my mother says. "He's alright, we're just waiting for him to wake up." Peeta and I stand, but she adds that only one of us can go in at a time. My stomach sinks slightly but I agree. Peeta lets me go ahead first. I'm not sure whether or not to thank him or argue. I decide neither and step into the kitchen. He's lying on the counter, with an oxygen mask over his mouth. The sense of anger comes plummeting back to me.

"Why'd you have to drink? Why did you do this to yourself?" I sob, leaning against one of Massie's chairs. I shake my head, knowing that he's not going to answer. "I should've done something. I'm sorry." A tear rolls down my cheek. I don't bother to wipe it away. I lean close to him, making sure that no one else can hear me.

"I'm pregnant, Haymitch," I whisper. There was a tiny bit of hope in my heart that he would hear me, but nothing happens. I am just about to turn and leave when I hear him say,

"Good job, sweetheart."

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That was kind of an unexpected chapter :P I'm trying to even out the whole baby thing right now, just so it doesn't seem like so much at once. A few people have been wanting Gale to reappear in the story, and I've already made plans for it. ;) Well, hope you liked this chapter! Be sure to comment and vote <3

-booklover2019