Song inspiration: NDA TikTok Instrumental

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Dead to Me

Haymitch lay on the penthouse's sofa with his feet stretched out, as if everything were perfectly fine. Eyes closed, a self-satisfied grin on his lips, and an untouched glass of whiskey in his hand.

Effie skidded to a stop, her heart stuttering and relaxing because the sight of him was the exact opposite of what she had expected. She had expected the worst, and yet here he sat, seeming ... unmoved.

The clicking of her shoes must have given her away, because Haymitch turned his head in her direction. Their eyes met. Fear overcame Effie. Not fear of him. A deep, unprecedented fear in her stomach that was already tearing her apart from the inside, even though neither of them had said a word.

So many questions were swirling around in Effie's head that she couldn't bring herself to ask any of them. She stood rooted to the spot in the doorway, staring transfixed at Haymitch, who was looking at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. Unease rippled through her blood, making her fingers tremble. A new premonition formed in her core and her body was already going into defensive mode.

"So, did you finally get bored of being alone?" Haymitch asked before she could. His voice was different. Not new, but ... Effie knew that voice. It was the same one he had used to meet her at the beginning of the season in District 12. When they had still been strangers.

"You promised you would come back," Effie said, and it took an infinite amount of strength for her to step next to the sofa. Suddenly Haymitch seemed like a stranger to her. The closeness she had felt this afternoon no longer existed. This wasn't the same Haymitch she had driven to the lounge with today. This was someone else. For a moment Effie wondered if she was dreaming.

Haymitch shrugged. "I lied."

Effie's eyes widened and she had a hard time keeping her mask on. "I beg your pardon?" She must have misheard. Her brain was playing tricks on her.

"I lied," Haymitch repeated loudly, the corners of his mouth lifting in half-amusement. "I didn't feel like coming back. See, nothing has happened anyway. So I saved myself a few boring hours with you."

Effie was wrong. This wasn't the Haymitch she had met in District 12. This Haymitch was completely unknown to her. She swallowed her bile and thought back to the past few weeks; the intimate moments, the kisses, the touches. What kind of strange trick was he playing on her? "Seriously, Haymitch, what is going on? What is wrong? I have been waiting for you. I have been worried. And then I saw the picture of you with that model."

Something familiar flashed in Haymitch's emotionless eyes but disappeared too quickly for her to place. He raised his eyebrows. "Nothing's wrong. I went out, so what?"

"We talked about that," Effie reminded him sternly. "You promised to stay away from people like Laetitia Lowell. It is not worth it. So was today a deal like that or why were you doing it behind my back?"

Haymitch looked her straight in the eyes, as if he wanted to make sure her focus was completely on him. "This wasn't a deal, Effie. Forget about those deals. Today had nothing to do with that. Today was just fun. Pleasure. Sex. Not that it would mean anything with you Capitol women. But I have to get all this shit out of my system somehow." The indifference in his voice seemed so strange – so foreign – because Effie had grown accustomed to the emotions beneath his facade.

This new openness stunned her. "Have you been drinking?" The glass in his hands was untouched, but his fingers were shaking. A barely perceptible tremor. Effie searched for the veil in his eyes, only to find the clarity of his mind. Could he be serious about every word he said? Impossible. The Haymitch she knew would never–

"Not nearly enough to bother with you right now. But since you've already seen the picture of me on the internet, maybe it'd be better if we settle the matter here and now once and for all," Haymitch explained coolly, rolling his eyes as if this conversation was getting on his nerves. "I've tried long enough not to hurt your feelings. I'm no longer interested in our arrangement. I want to sleep with other women. I don't want to be limited to you. Sleep with Crane, with a sponsor if you want to get some money out of it, but I'm out of this."

"You ... you're ... out?" Effie's brain tried to translate his words, but she couldn't keep up with his logic.

"I'm sorry if you had hopes for more." For the first time that evening, Haymitch actually sounded sober. "I don't want anything from you – I never did. You're a Capitol, damn it, I despise you. The only reason I agreed to this stupid arrangement was because I wanted to wrap you around my finger. You were already trying to get me involved in the Games on the train. I thought you'd let me get away with my lack of interest in the Games, but since you're still forcing me to chase after these damned sponsors, I might as well save myself the trouble."

"You're lying," Effie said with complete calm, with complete incomprehension. Nothing Haymitch said made sense. She walked closer to him until she was standing directly over him. He had to tilt his head back to meet her gaze. "Did they give you something? Any pills or powders in your drink?" Concern crept into her tone. "Do you remember anything? Do you feel normal?"

It had to be drugs. There was no other explanation for the clarity in his eyes despite the words that were coming from his lips. Effie's mind drifted back to Mags's face in the sponsors' lounge, to her serious expression. None of this made sense.

"I feel normal, Effie," Haymitch answered, but his voice ... His voice sounded wrong. As if he was trying not to stumble. "I'm fine, I've never felt–"

Effie turned on her heel, shaking her head, and walked briskly toward the bar. "There's something wrong with you," she retorted firmly, but her fingers could barely contain the trembling. "Whatever they did to you, you're acting completely different than usual. I've been worried all evening, and I don't want to have to deal with a drugged mentor in the final hours of the Games. I'm calling a doctor."

"No!" Haymitch croaked, jumping off the sofa like a madman. There was panic in his wide gray eyes, and when Effie turned and they stared at each other, she thought she caught a glimpse of the man she knew. The man behind the unapproachable wall. But then he seemed to catch himself, to realize that his reaction had been too hectic. Because a second later he blinked and let the emotions disappear. "No," he repeated, more seriously this time. "I don't need a doctor, Effie."

"Then why are you acting like an ..." There was no polite word to describe what was running through her mind. Asshole. Her upbringing was all that kept her from saying it out loud.

"Because I don't know how else to tell you that I can't stand you anymore!" Haymitch shouted in frustration and raised his arms in the air. This reminded Effie more of the Haymitch she was familiar with. The more his words pierced her heart.

"I don't believe you!" Effie shouted back in the same tone. She didn't let herself be shouted at. She hadn't done anything wrong. "I know you. I know something happened. You wouldn't be acting like a complete idiot if you didn't have a good reason to!"

"You know me?" A spiteful laugh escaped Haymitch's throat. "You know the part of me I wanted you to see, that's all. You think you know any of my secret depths that are hidden from the rest of the world? You're stuck in some twisted Capitol fantasy, that's all! What makes you think that? You're nothing special, Effie. Not a special woman, just an ordinary, brain-dead Capitol and not someone I would ever share any deep things with. We're not in kindergarten!"

Effie looked at Haymitch and was speechless for the first time in a long while. She was slowly overcome by an unpleasant feeling that reality was catching up with her, closing in on her and threatening to suffocate her. Wherever this all suddenly came from. For her, it came out of nowhere. As if she had taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in a parallel universe. Where was the Effie who lived in this universe? Would she walk through the door at any moment, see her standing here and wonder what in Panem's name an identical copy of herself was doing here?

Haymitch took her hesitation as an opportunity to speak his mind about something he had been wanting to get off his chest for a long time. He took a deep, steady breath, as if he was preparing to crush her with his next words. Like an actor taking a breath before his life-changing performance on stage. "You don't know me, Effie. You have no fucking idea who I am, what I think or feel. I'm a fucking victor. I killed to be here today. I take what I want, when I want it. Do you honestly think I couldn't turn your naive mind inside out if I wanted to?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Considering the storm inside her, Effie's voice was surprisingly calm.

"Making you believe I wanted you was so easy. Making you believe I was interested in you. Real interest. Seriously, how could you believe that? We District people loathe you. We hate you and your damn Capitol. I hate you. Did you honestly think there was anything special between us? Holy shit, your people have been killing mine for over sixty-four years, do you think I could feel anything but disgust? It was exactly what you called it. An arrangement. You were a toy to me. Nothing more. I thought the feeling was mutual, but it's obviously not."

"Then what was the point of all this? Why bother? You could have just ignored me, locked yourself in your room. Why?" Why hurt me? Effie's body burned with heat and shook with cold. Haymitch had moved closer to her with each sentence, like a predator locking eyes on its prey – his expression a menacing mixture of mockery and disbelief.

"Dogs bite when you kick them. A well-trained dog is easier to control than one you've made an enemy of. At least in theory." Haymitch shrugged and massaged the bridge of his nose. Then his eyes bore into hers again, the silver around his pupils hard and merciless. He actually meant it. He meant what he said. Effie felt like she was falling. "But you're so annoying that I can't stand putting on a brave face anymore. Your voice is shrill like a bird's. You act like you own the world, but by Capitol standards you're a nobody. Your body is the only benefit I've gotten out of this whole thing ... and even there you're just average. Today alone I've seen a dozen women I would have preferred to be with a hundred times over."

Haymitch stared at Effie as if he were searching for understanding; as if she should be able to understand what he meant. She had to pull herself together to let the words bounce off her; to keep her walls up; to keep the pain from showing. A voice in her head screamed, wanted to lash out, wanted to break down and cry and rip her heart out of her chest. Barely a muscle twitched on Effie's face.

"Any man would have done what I did," Haymitch explained more gently. An excuse that he was probably trying to tell himself rather than Effie. Like an apology that was actually only meant to soothe his own soulless conscience.

If Haymitch had been a man from the Capitol, it would never have come to this, Effie knew. In the Capitol, you maintained integrity, a code, when you moved in certain circles. Before you even touched someone else's hand, something had to have happened beforehand. Affairs and sex were plentiful, of course, but this was different; you knew where the boundaries were. With Haymitch – with a man from a District – it was both more complicated and simpler. If Haymitch had been a man from the Capitol, Effie would have kept the line between pleasure and emotions clearer. But with Haymitch, it had been so easy to blur the line. Something that was unthinkable in the Capitol. Passion was passion and partner was partner; at least in Effie's circles, and even more so when you looked up to the elite. Effie had told herself for far too long that her disregard for the norms was due to his background.

Until now, Effie had rarely noticed the boundary between herself and Haymitch. Even though he had emphasized time and time again how different they were; how terrible the Capitol was; how disgusting the people here were. Right now, she could clearly see this boundary between them. Like a transparent wall that separated their worlds for the first time. Had this wall always been there from Haymitch's perspective? Had he really just forced himself onto her side to make his own life easier?

Effie waited, not making a sound as the thoughts came crashing down on her, as sudden and sharp as hailstones in an unpredictable storm. Despite all this – despite all the humiliation, or perhaps because of it – she couldn't just run away from this storm. No. She was Effie Trinket, she knew her worth and Haymitch couldn't take that away from her, no matter what he said. She was Effie Trinket and she wouldn't back down when anyone tried to intimidate her. Which was probably exactly the reason why Haymitch had even gotten involved in this whole thing with her: he didn't need to influence a compliant escort.

So Effie tilted her head, folded her hands in front of her, and waited. She forced herself to look Haymitch straight in the eyes, giving him one last chance to explain himself; to clear up what felt like a 180-degree turn. No human being could change into someone completely different from one moment to the next. No human being could erase their entire personality in a matter of hours, or swap their emotions as if the past had never happened. No human being could act that well.

The silence didn't seem to get to Haymitch. The trembling in his fingers was obvious, sweat was running down his forehead, and his feet seemed to wobble slightly. Still, Effie didn't say a word. She pinned him to the spot with her gaze and waited. Tell me the truth, a voice in her head pleaded. Part of her tried to convince herself that he was lying, because none of this made sense. At least not to a person of decency and morals. If Haymitch was really who he had just portrayed himself to be, then all of these things were possible. But could he really be that good of an actor? Had he really captivated her that well? Had none of the chemistry between them been real? Had the man Haymitch pretended to be not been real? The thought broke her heart and hurt more than all the insults he had thrown at her.

No matter how long the silence lasted, Haymitch did nothing to take back his words. There was a flicker in his eyes. He found it difficult to hold her gaze. She could see the conflict on his face, as if he was fighting with himself. But he said nothing. Maybe the conflict had nothing to do with her. Maybe his thoughts were already with a completely different woman. Who knew? Because apparently Effie knew nothing about Haymitch Abernathy.

"I understand," Effie finally said in a distant, disinterested voice. She didn't bother to put on her polite, overly motivated public persona when it got on his nerves like this. Even though she had thought he had glimpsed through the facade. "If that is how you see it, then I will not stand in your way. Even if you do not need to be rude. That is not how you treat someone, whether you have an interest in me or not. I am still a person."

Haymitch nodded slowly.

Effie bowed her head, not sure what to say to end this, since it seemed he wasn't going to say anything more. "Then I hope you enjoy what you are doing." She stepped back from him, her voice dead.

Haymitch imitated her movements and also moved away from her. There wasn't much of the hardness left on his face, but Effie couldn't interpret this new expression. This man was a stranger to her.

Haymitch was about to turn around and leave when Effie opened her mouth again. "But do not think I will give in so easily. If your goal is to get me out of my job, you can try for a long time. I am certainly not going to give up my position just because a victor thinks he can play the game better than the Capitol." She couldn't help it. She couldn't let him go without serving him at least a drop of his own poison. "I am going to stay here until I am transferred to a more respectable District. So if you want to get rid of me so badly, maybe you should not abandon your District. I know it will be hard for you, since you obviously do not understand much about honor, but the better it does, the sooner you will be rid of me. Think about that the next time you send your children helplessly to their deaths."

That was it. The end. Haymitch's body stiffened, but Effie didn't wait for a reaction. Without batting an eyelid, she turned on her heel and strutted out of the living room with all the dignity she had left.

If Haymitch saw her as nothing more than a puppet of the Capitol, Effie might as well act like one.

oOo

He deserved the words. Every single one. And they hit their target. The truth, she tells the truth. Wanting to hurt him after everything he had thrown at her was the least she could do.

Haymitch's feet wobbled beneath him. With every insult, with every lie, he felt the invisible rope tighten around his throat. Didn't she notice that he could hardly breathe? That his fingers were shaking like crazy?

Now that Effie had left the living room, a new need tingled through his veins. He wanted to smash everything to pieces; to reduce this room to rubble. No, he wanted much more than that. Haymitch stared out the frameless windows into the glittering night, across to the Presidential Palace on the other side of the grand avenue where the Opening Ceremonies were taking place. He personally had to pay.

This was nothing compared to the arena, and nothing compared to the death that Haymitch had faced so many times. It was terrible in its own way. Terrible because he knew he had no choice but to break her heart. And from the look on Effie's face, he was pretty sure he had succeeded. Whatever was left of her feelings for him would evaporate in the next few days. And by the time he got back to the Capitol next year, her pain would have turned to contempt. The very thought of Effie despising someone seemed far-fetched to Haymitch. Effie, who was at least polite to everyone.

Minutes after Effie had left him standing, Haymitch finally drank the whiskey he had been saving for this moment. Any drop of alcohol in his blood would have ruined his speech. And even without the alcohol, she had already tried to hold on to the good for so long. She had refused to believe that his performance was real. She had been so persistent and stubborn that Haymitch himself had barely been able to stay in character.

I know you, Effie had said. You wouldn't be acting like a complete idiot if you didn't have a good reason to. How right she was. Only now – in retrospect – did Haymitch realize how deeply he had actually let her see into his soul.

The alcohol didn't help. The dull pounding in his chest wouldn't go away. As if someone had violently ripped his heart out of his chest. Like a knife that Effie had pushed deep into his chest after he had impaled himself on it. It wasn't her fault, of course. It was her instinct, she was just defending herself against him. That didn't make it hurt any less.

So Haymitch drank. Drank and drank until the world blurred before his eyes; until his shame and his melancholy vanished into thin air. And that was the best state he could be in. Everyone thought he was a rude, unapproachable drunkard anyway, so he could live up to the title.

I know you. And Haymitch knew Effie. Probably better than he should. So well that her horrified face refused to leave his mind's eye. He had pushed her into a vortex of self-doubt, knowing full well that it would tear her apart. She took the smallest things to heart. At least he knew that he would end up tearing himself apart in the process as well.

Haymitch blinked, the dark living room a haze of the little light reflecting off the nearby skyscrapers. In a dragging motion, he raised his head to the television that never slept. A sigh escaped his lips; it sounded almost like a sob.

This night would be the last straw for Effie.

oOo

Effie's body was shaking. Her feet, her fingers, even her teeth. As if a cold bucket of water had been thrown on her. She couldn't stop shaking; she wanted to but she couldn't. A hole had appeared in her stomach, small at first and then growing bigger. Every movement, every breath, every blink felt hypersensitive, as if her body wanted to feel the pain at any cost.

It didn't whip through her like a punch or the burgeoning throb of hitting something. This was different. Deeper. Something seemed to be emerging from the deepest, darkest part of her, a feeling that seemed to burn all other emotions to ash. Slowly, so slowly that Effie wanted to scream, it crept through her veins and consumed everything in its path. As if the pain knew that nothing would be strong enough to stand up to it. It seemed to be eating away at her from the inside, pulling her under the surface, cutting off her air.

Effie couldn't sleep. She couldn't even remember how she had made it to bed, or how she had taken off her clothes beforehand. The hours after the conversation with Haymitch were like a crack in her brain. There was the fatal moment when she had realized it was finally over, his face in front of her so clear and distant; the image had burned itself onto her retina. But what had happened after that ... she had no idea. There were no more than snippets of memories. How she had sat on the bed and stared into space in dismay for a while. How she had stroked her silky nightgown with trembling fingers.

But now, as Effie lay in bed, rolled onto her side, her eyes focused on the glowing city outside the window, she didn't even know what time it was. A bed that smelled like Haymitch, because he had spent the last three days beside her. How much time had passed? In a nearly absent-minded motion, she ran her hand over her cheek. She couldn't remember having cried or still crying. Her damp fingertips spoke a different language. Her body felt like it was in a trance.

She knew she would never sleep. Not tonight. So far she had managed to push the content of Haymitch's words away. Effie was good at getting rid of other people, good at holding back emotions, putting on a good face. Nothing else was expected of her. What she felt was of no interest, so she might as well hide those emotions from herself. It was as if her head and body were not working well together.

In a slow movement, Effie swung her legs to the side and straightened up. Her room was dark, but the Capitol was bright enough that she could see well enough with the curtains drawn back. Effie was at odds with herself as she turned toward the door. Leaving her room wasn't an option. Not in this state, not as she looked right now. Not with the possibility of meeting Haymitch. Because Effie knew one thing very clearly: she couldn't show him what his words had triggered in her. No. She would have to play her role, her acting, better than before. Her smiles would have to be wider, her eyes brighter, her outfits more elaborate. Haymitch mustn't know that he had hurt her. Of course he had already gotten a glimpse of it, but in the long run she could dismiss that as the shock of the moment. She had pride, she had dignity, and Haymitch had hurt her in both respects. She was Effie Trinket and up until now she had always been untouchable, had always won the game. Haymitch may have made her lose this round. But this wouldn't be her last game.

Instead of leaving the room, Effie trudged over to the television that hung in the corner of the room, an armchair in front of it. The coming masquerade didn't change the fact that she was hurting here and now. Just because she wouldn't show it to anyone didn't mean it wasn't real. She needed a distraction. Needed a different focus. Anything was better than these thoughts in her head. Anything but this emptiness.

Effie pressed the remote control, and the screen silently came to life. It was the first time she used it. For a split second, the device searched for a signal and then an image of a dark arena appeared before her eyes. All televisions in Panem were programmed to automatically switch to the Games's news channel during the Hunger Games.

Nothing seemed to be happening. All the cameras were dark. A few showed curled-up figures, but it was so late at night that even the Careers had retired. Cashmere kept watch while Magnus slept, her gaze fixed emotionlessly into the distance. The boy from District 7 lay in a bush, breathing in and out almost imperceptibly. Effie looked for Elowen, automatically checking the cameras for her like she did every other time. But there was no sign of her.

With narrowed eyes, Effie got up from her chair and moved closer to the screen to inspect the camera angles more closely. After a second check of the cameras, her lips twisted into a dissatisfied line. Just because District 12 was the underdog didn't give the Gamemakers the right to simply block out their tribute. Even if it was the middle of the night. Seneca should know better. But at that time of night, he probably wasn't even in the Game Center anymore.

With a suppressed sigh, Effie changed the channel, looking for other perspectives of the arena. Looking for Elowen. A press of a button later, she landed on the Capitol's official news channel. News were running continuously here. Since it was three in the morning, as she noticed with a sideways glance at the timeline, only an automated replay was playing. Effie had no idea how up to date it was. Nor did she care. She was about to switch to the next channel when the newsreader moved on to the next topic.

The image hit Effie before the speaker's words did. Effie felt a harsh sound rise up her throat, her lungs trying to gasp for air. She jumped away from the screen as if she had been electrocuted.

The Gamemakers hadn't ignored Elowen. They had neither overlooked her nor forgotten her. No. There was no reason for that. Not anymore. Because Elowen –sweet, polite little Elowen – was dead.

-

This chapter was lying unfinished in my OneDrive and I just ignored it for so long. I've never had such problems finishing a chapter as I did with this one. Generally speaking, with all of my stories. I didn't want to finish it because... well, if you've read this far, you can guess why. Anyone who has read Figure It Out before will of course know that this fanfic doesn't have a happy ending. And even though I knew it myself, I didn't think it would be so difficult to write. I'm not 100% happy with the outcome either, but I really don't have the nerve to spend any longer on it because I don't want to make the ending worse.

The last chapter will be uploaded next week. Thank you for sticking around.

Skyllen