Warning for dark themes.

Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me.

Part One

"Will it get better?" Her words came out in a whisper. Effie's eyes bore into Haymitch's silvery grey, searching for her answer desperately.

"Do you want the truth or the lie?"

She tilted her head to the side, a frown on her face.

"The lie."

"It's all true what the doctors told you. It'll get better. Time heals," he told her nonchalantly, one hand gripping the metal bar by the train's door.

The corner of her lips curved in a smile, "And the truth?"

"No - it doesn't. Don't think time heals, if anything they mask your scars," he shook his head, his expression grave. "The war's won, but for some, like Katniss, too much has been lost for it to get better."

She nodded at his words, wiping a tear that escaped from her eyes.

"You take care of them, and yourself, too," she said, patting his upper arm.

"Yeah, you too, sweetheart. You'll be alright."

She gave a weak smile and waved at him as he boarded the train that would take him and the two Victors back to District Twelve.

XxX

It didn't get better. The nightmares kept her up at night. She would find herself waking up in a cold sweat, screaming and thrashing in bed when she did manage to fall asleep. Effie felt and experienced her nightmares so vividly that at times it felt like she was back in prison – her hair being pulled back roughly, a pair of boots stomping on her hand, a fist slamming against her face, her lungs felt like they were on fire when they held her underwater.

Her screaming woke her mother up, the only living family she had left. Effie's sister and her family had been caught in the bomb blast that destroyed the City Circle; her father had long passed even before she was accepted as an Escort.

Her psychologist had diagnosed her with post-traumatic stress disorder but those words meant nothing to her. She just wanted the nightmares to stop, for the pain to end. She heard whispers of survivor's guilt - something she understood.

She stayed up most nights; staring blankly into the distance, thinking of all the children she had led to their deaths. "Second hand murder" was what Haymitch had shouted at her during one of his drunken rages. She thought of all the innocent lives that were lost and wept for them.

Effie did not feel the slightest bit lucky to be rescued from prison, to still be alive.

"The odds seem to be forever in your favour, Effie dear. Ever since you were just a little girl. Your sister had always been envious of you," her mother had said, stroking her hair as Effie laid her head in her mother's lap.

Effie smiled slightly at that, but didn't say anything. She wished for once that the odds were against her. Her life felt so bleak, her nightmares were the new Peacekeepers keeping her trapped and imprisoned.

"Have you called that drunk friend of yours from Twelve yet?" her mother asked.

"Not yet."

"Better call him then, dear. Your doctor said it would help with the healing process if you talk about it with someone familiar."

Effie got up and kissed her mother goodnight. She settled in bed with the phone in her hand and dialled the number she had long memorized.

XxX

"Still seeing your therapist?" his gruff voice asked.

"Yes. I don't - I don't find it helpful, Haymitch. I sit in a chair in his room telling him how I'm coping, I can't -"

"Gotta try though, right? Don't need another Katniss – can't even bother to call her doctor."

Effie sighed. "The nightmares are terrible."

"Yeah, I know."

They lapsed into silence. There was nothing left to explain. Haymitch understood nightmares better than most and he tried drowning his in alcohol - an advice he had given her jokingly. Effie had tried drinking - while it worked in burying her nightmares and causing her to pass out the entire night, the hangover she experienced the next day made her wish she had just stayed up all night instead.

She had tried cutting; to release her pain and fear through physical means but the sight of blood nearly caused her to faint. It made everything worse. The sight of the dark crimson liquid flowing down her arms had brought memories of children lying in pools of blood in the arena, and it reminded her of prison with its perpetual smell of blood.

Neither Haymitch nor her psychologist was aware of her self-inflicted injuries. It was just a onetime event, something she deemed unimportant.

"Haymitch?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't feel anything. Numb, most of the time. I took the doctor's advice – tried doing something I enjoyed but I lost interest in it."

There was a pause before Haymitch spoke, "I don't know what to say, sweetheart. I'm not exactly –"

"I know," she told him. "'Stay alive' is the best you have to offer, right?"

"Yeah, Effs. You just stay alive, alright?"

Effie was quick to change the subject. "How are you doing in Twelve?"

"M'okay. I've got geese now - look after them when I'm not too busy."

"Geese?" Effie said chuckling at the mental image of Haymitch surrounded by those white feathered birds.

"Hmm. Drunk on any other day."

"Same old then?"

"Routine, almost," he replied languidly.

XxX

Effie felt increasingly desperate. It was nearly a year since the rebels had won, displacing the late President Snow from power. Effie hadn't kept track of the days that passed but the phone call from Plutarch informing her of an upcoming memorial and celebration event had reinstated the awareness of time back in her.

The nightmares had gotten worse as the event drew nearer. Effie kept herself at home, only venturing out to see her doctor.

"I heard you haven't been going out much."

"No," she mumbled.

"Why's that?"

"Memories. Everywhere I turn I get reminded of something. I try to avoid anything that will remind me..." she trailed off.

As Effie left the hospital, she resolved to take control of her own life. Tonight, I'll do it tonight.

XxX

The petite blonde haired woman sat perched on the edge of her bed staring at the tablets lying on her bed side table - tablets that Effie had nicked over the days as she prepared her mother's medication each night.

She felt a strange sort of calmness overtaking her senses. She reached forward, popping the tablets into her mouth and swallowed it with a large gulp of water. She settled in bed and waited for the effects to take place.

She thought of the smiling face of her sister, thought of all those moments they had fought over a brand new wig which their mother had bought for them. She thought of her father – a strict man who demanded respect from his two daughters but loved them both equally at the same time. I'll see them soon.

She thought of her mother sleeping peacefully in her own bed. She would be okay, she had always been an independent woman before her health started to fail – the long term side effects of the numerous pills she took trying to maintain her figures and looks. Effie's mother was the one who introduced to her the glamourous lifestyles filled with the latest fashions, the one who urged her to be an Escort.

Finally, her thoughts went to Haymitch. She considered him her only true friend in this world though she wasn't sure if he consider her in the same capacity. Her hands fumbled for the phone at the bed side table and she dialled his number.

Pressing the phone to her ears, Effie could feel her chest beginning to constrict and a headache starting to set in.

"Hello? What? Eh, hello?"

Effie smiled listening to his voice. She didn't say a word.

"Listen you idiot, it's in the middle of the night, if you ain't gonna talk don't call me!" he grumbled angrily before slamming the phone down.

"Goodbye," she whispered when she heard the click of the phone on the other line.

There will be one final chapter after this.

A/N: I was doing some research on poison when I remembered Warfarin and came up with this story. I wanted to try writing something.. dark, never tried it before. So, I hope this piece was to your liking. Do leave me reviews and let me know your thoughts.