There's a bird chirping somewhere nearby, and while some might find that a cheerful sound, Haymitch doesn't. He wouldn't anyway, even if this was a normal bird, but it's not, and his mood is the opposite of cheerful.
He doesn't even notice the difference, not really, because he spends most of his time feeling like this anyway. Most of the time he can (mostly) function in spite of the memories. He's found ways of pushing them to the side when it's necessary (which is often), but now, since he's been sitting here on this porch listening to this stupid bird chirping, he can't push them aside anymore.
But he has to. These memories are dangerous. These memories bring up all of the things he won't allow himself to admit he feels, and what escapes his lips isn't a sob but the effort of keeping one in. He can't let them see him like this. All of these things he wants to let out, he can't let it be know that they're there. The people who broke him can't know how well it worked.
Their names threaten to break free, and he claps his hands over his mouth. Names are all he has left, and he won't let those be taken from him too.
III.
Here's the thing about surviving the worst Panem has to offer: even when no one's watching, you assume that someone is watching. Which is why, when Haymitch finally ventures out of the house where he has holed up and ends up at the hot springs, he doesn't undress completely. It might make bathing awkward, but no one's going to see anything they shouldn't.
It might be decades since he was in the arena, and for most of the year, he's mostly left alone, but he'd learned a lesson well, even if it hadn't been the exact lesson the Capitol had wanted him to learn.
His clothes and boots are shoved in a nook between two rocks, hidden from the sight of anyone who may approach. (Don't tempt others with items that can be stolen; another lesson he picked up long ago.) All except his underwear, which he's still wearing. It's better than wearing nothing, and even that can't hide the scars that mar his skin.
He's too complacent. He doesn't notice someone coming up to the hot springs.
Haymitch Abernathy | The Hunger Games | 2 & 3
There's a bird chirping somewhere nearby, and while some might find that a cheerful sound, Haymitch doesn't. He wouldn't anyway, even if this was a normal bird, but it's not, and his mood is the opposite of cheerful.
He doesn't even notice the difference, not really, because he spends most of his time feeling like this anyway. Most of the time he can (mostly) function in spite of the memories. He's found ways of pushing them to the side when it's necessary (which is often), but now, since he's been sitting here on this porch listening to this stupid bird chirping, he can't push them aside anymore.
But he has to. These memories are dangerous. These memories bring up all of the things he won't allow himself to admit he feels, and what escapes his lips isn't a sob but the effort of keeping one in. He can't let them see him like this. All of these things he wants to let out, he can't let it be know that they're there. The people who broke him can't know how well it worked.
Their names threaten to break free, and he claps his hands over his mouth. Names are all he has left, and he won't let those be taken from him too.
III.
Here's the thing about surviving the worst Panem has to offer: even when no one's watching, you assume that someone is watching. Which is why, when Haymitch finally ventures out of the house where he has holed up and ends up at the hot springs, he doesn't undress completely. It might make bathing awkward, but no one's going to see anything they shouldn't.
It might be decades since he was in the arena, and for most of the year, he's mostly left alone, but he'd learned a lesson well, even if it hadn't been the exact lesson the Capitol had wanted him to learn.
His clothes and boots are shoved in a nook between two rocks, hidden from the sight of anyone who may approach. (Don't tempt others with items that can be stolen; another lesson he picked up long ago.) All except his underwear, which he's still wearing. It's better than wearing nothing, and even that can't hide the scars that mar his skin.
He's too complacent. He doesn't notice someone coming up to the hot springs.