Chapter One: First Impressions

"I assume you know the mentor you'll be working with," The Head of Careers tells me as he opens a door, only to reveal a stocky middle-aged man passed out on the couch. I back up a little when I see he has a knife in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. The Head of Careers turns and gives me a sympathetic smile as he walks away, getting back to his work. He was only showing me to my new co-worker's room. I survey the room before entering. The room has white walls and a white floor with a dark brown couch in the middle of the room. There's a small wooden end table next to the couch and a dark red, shaggy rug in front of the couch. There's a fridge in the back of the room and a door I'm assuming leads to a bathroom, plus more pieces of typical hotel furniture scattered. Some of it is even knocked over, like the TV. The furniture is stained and dirty, the walls having holes the size of bowling balls in various places. If you look closely, there's even a few knife marks. Straightening my favorite glitter pink wig on my head, I step inside cautiously.

"Hello, Haymitch! It's time to get up, up, up!" I say happily, walking into the room. I know this is not where Haymitch lives, just the room he gets in the hotel during the Games, which makes me wonder how bad his actual house is. The reaping was in five days and all the mentors and escorts had to meet up for Pre-Games planning. This would be my first year as an escort, so of course I would get the worst district, meaning District 12. I was hoping to get a Career district after my second year, and Haymitch was not going to spoil my plan. Haymitch doesn't stir so I repeat myself, only this time about two octaves louder.

"Grrmmh, ugh," Haymitch mumbles, stirring a little. I squint my eyes at his drunken figure. His shirt is pulled up, showing quite an impressive stomach for such a heavy drinker. It's not exactly fit, but he doesn't have that much of a beer belly either. The smell of his room catches my notice, making me gag.

"Haymitch Abernathy, get up this instant. I may be new but I know all about you and your drunken shenanigans, and I want you to know that I will NOT be treated in such a manner as this." I say vehemently. Haymitch sits up quickly, clearly startled, swinging his knife in the process. His knife meats my arm and he gives me a pretty deep cut from my wrist to my elbow. Pain fills my body and I let out a scream and fall to the floor. It feels like I can't even breath and I start crying, clutching my bleeding arm.

Haymitch eyes me curiously as he regains his full consciousness.

"Suck it up, sweetheart," Haymitch says over my screams, "the kids you're so excited to escort are going to go through a lot more than that." He doesn't even bother looking at me as he gets up. I want to get up and scream at him about how he could ever do this to a lady, a Capitol citizen, his new co-worker, how he was a drunk bastard who should have died in the Games and let someone else win, but the pain is too bad and I just lay there on the floor, clutching my arm and screaming. I don't even know where he went. He comes back a minute later with a pack of ice and a bandage. I look up at him, his figure blurry from the tears in my eyes, and he grunts before throwing the bandage and ice beside me. The ice is cool next to my knee, where it lands. The bandage lands close to my face and has a strange odor.

"Clean yourself up." he says, sitting down on the couch. I give him a 'are you completely insane?' look. As if I'm a doctor, I think. I'm reporting him as soon as I get fixed! This is not acceptable.

"Better hurry up sweetheart, don't want to bleed to death." he teases. it's then that I notice the puddle of blood around my upper body. I whimper some more before Haymitch gets off his ass to come finally help me. He props my upper body up on his knee as he bandages me up and puts ice over it, which doesn't really help any. Most of the time I have my eyes shut, still in an unbelievable amount of pain. Who carries a knife in their sleep and attacks people with it when they wake up? Haymitch Abernathy, bastard of the year, apparently. I'm already loathing this years Games when I realize that I have to work with this joke.

"You're going to need stitches. I'll call someone." he says bluntly, and I could swear I saw him smirk. I nod deliriously, suddenly feeling light headed. I start seeing dark spots and seconds later, I pass out.