So this is my first Hunger Games fanfiction, and I really hope you all enjoy it. I just had a thought about taking drabbles from Haymitch's point of viewon the deterioration of his Mockingjay from "Catching Fire" to the end of "Mockingjay". Don't read if you haven't read all of the books, because I don't want to spoil a lot of the big moments for you! This is sort of a prologue or intro. While there is not much yet to review, if you like the idea and where it might be headed, please leave a comment!
Everyone knew I hated the world. I hated what had become of the district I lived in. I hated what had become of me. I hated the Capital more than anything or anyone else I could think of for a million and one reasons: the Games, for destroying the person I was before I was reaped for the games, for the deaths of everyone I loved, for forcing me to send two children to death year after year. The Capital knew exactly how to break a person until they are damaged beyond repair. I know I can't be fixed, and I hate them for that too. And damnit, if I didn't hate my Mockingjay.
But Lord knows I love her. And, helplessly, I watched the Capital tear her apart.
It had started off small, a few minor scratches to her psyche. Nothing she, or any other tribute, hadn't had to handle. Taking another person's life, going in with the thought that she had to take Peeta's, these were minor in comparison of what was to come. Perhaps the most traumatic moment she had to face was the death of the little girl, Rue, but even that wasn't enough to make her crumble. She was strong. She reminded me of myself.
Sometimes I hated her for that.
Even after managing to make it out of the games alive with Peeta, she held onto her sanity. That was until she was faced with the realization of the spark of rebellion she had unknowingly caused. I watched her load burden after burden upon her shoulders: the safety of her family and friends, of Peeta, Gale, and even myself, the effort in which to prove to the districts and the Capital that what she and Peeta did in the arena was out of love, to prove to President Snow that she could make things right in Panem.
And then came the first crack in Katniss Everdeen. Her failure.
I watched her carefully as she put the guilt from the deaths that occurred in District 11 on her shoulders, along with the knowledge that even marriage was not enough for Snow. I seethed at Katniss's very nature, her will to carry the world's problems alone, and I drank to contain my rage at what the Capital was continuing to put us all through even after the Games had ended.
While I knew she would have to face many years of sending more children to their deaths, just like I had, and that no therapy could ever erase the pain that came with that, I believed that she was safe. But she wasn't, thus triggering the irreversible and utter destruction of Katniss Everdeen.