Closure- a post Mockingjay Hayffie story.
*Spoilers for the original Hunger Games trilogy and light spoilers for SOTR. *
trigger warnings- rare mentions of s3lf-h4rm and alcoholism. Proceed with caution.
Effie had just made it back to her Capitol apartment. But she wasn’t the same hope filled Effie who had bought this apartment herself after becoming an escort for the games. The Effie who walked into her apartment today was a changed Effie. After the torture she indured in the Capitol for answers on her knowledge of everything about the rebellion, she was visibly shaken and thinner. She had been rescued along with all the other captured Capitol citizens after the war and escorted to her home. The pastel, extravagant apartment suddenly felt nothing like the cold shell of a person coming back to it.
She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with herself now. She couldn’t shake this feeling of discomfort and anxiety. Her eyes had been opened to the horrors of the Capitol far too late. Now all that was left was a woman filled with guilt and regret. A woman who looked around and didn’t feel a community around her. Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch all went back to their home in District 12, and she went back to her “home”. Over these past few years they had felt like more than just victors and her tributes. They were her family.
She put her pink bag on her living room couch and walked into her room. She hadn’t seen this room in months. She was so exhausted. The kind of tiredness that probably couldn’t be solved by a nap, but all she wanted to do was sleep. From her stainless steel pristine appearing kitchen she grabbed a glass of water and her pills from her bag. The pills she had acquired to help her sleep. Sedatives. It was going to take about half an hour for them to reach her system and work “its magic” as she would say. She looked in her cabinets for some snacks that hadn’t yet expired. She hadn’t eaten much after she was taken by the Capitol. She was malnourished and shrunk into practically nothing after the months spent in captivity.
And in minutes, Effie was asleep. Peacefully… at least for a little while. Sometime in the early morning she woke up frightened. Her face pale and her heart racing. She looked at her fuzzy pink alarm clock. 3:23. She tried to put herself back to bed, but all she could see was flashes of screaming children worried for their lives. It was how the Capitol tortured her. But the thing that kept her up at night was the guilt. The guilt she had for not recognizing how wrong the system was. The guilt of regretfully blindly believing what she grew up being taught. That the hunger games existed for the greater good.
Effie never took pleasure in the gruesome games. In fact, sometimes– most times she was brought to tears when her tributes were killed in the games. But, she excused it because she honestly believed that somehow this was for some greater good. It was seemingly what everyone believed, but after everything that happened.
Everything she’s seen in the past year, the veil of fantasy has been unraveled revealing that maybe, just maybe, all those tribute deaths were just plain evil. Not a sacrifice, but meaningless murder. The thought made her recoil. Because what did that make her? She pulled the names from the bowl. She picked with her own hands which tributes would be sent to their deaths. Pulled away from their friends and family. Effie could feel the little food in her system making its way up her esophagus. She rushed to the bathroom and kneeled over her toilet.
Effie knew it was morning by the light peering through her giant floorlength windows. She hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep since she woke up earlier on. All she could do was lay down and think about everything. She thought about how she regretted not realizing what was wrong before it was too late. She was sick thinking about some of the faces and personalities of past tributes. Past children. She wondered about Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch. She doubted they would want to see her, but she couldn’t help but be proud of everything they did during the war.
Their strength and bravery was remarkable especially considering their age and everything they’ve gone through. She imagined they must be finding their footing again in District 12. She didn’t know if she should send them a letter. Something to show that she cared about them. She wondered if they would even want to hear from her. If they had been silently hating her this whole time. Hell, she hated herself too. She thought maybe she should just let them go. Let them find whatever happiness they could. She hoped they could find some peace in the aftermath. Some calm after the storm.
Effie didn’t spend the past two days doing much, in fact she did everything she could to feel as little as possible. She wasn’t much of a drinker but in the past two days she had consumed 4 bottles of rosé. Her favorite. She worried about the effects of taking sleeping pills and alcohol. She wondered if she was taking them too close together. Dangerously close together. She knew it was dangerous, she just couldn’t find a reason to care.
Prosie, her younger sister, her beloved sister, had sent her numerous voicemails. All basically asking if she was okay and that she hoped everything was going well. Effie couldn’t bring herself to reply, in fact she couldn’t bring herself to move from her sofa.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Effie had a feeling she already knew who it was. It was Prosie, of course. Effie opened the door and gave as much as a smile to Prosie as possible. Her younger sister, looking put together even after all the tragedy, was noticeably less colorful. She usually favored bright colors, but she was wearing a more toned down brown color.
Effie noticed when looking out the window that the fashion had changed in the weeks after and during the end of the war. She thought back to when she was in captivity and in a small window she could see the world start to lose color. She thought it was interesting how fashion truly reflected what was going on in the world. People in the capital wore less flamboyant outfits for something noticeably subtler. She didn’t blame them.
Effie gestured towards the sofa. Signaling that Prosie was free to walk through the door. Prosie picked up on how the apartment was slightly more messy than the type A Effie trinket usually allowed it to be. Prosie could see the difference in Effie, how she looked void of who she used to be. She understood why, but she wondered what the hell happened to her? And was it worse than what she thought?
“I brought you this!” Prose exclaimed. It was a basket filled with some fruits and vegetables as well as a bottle of wine. Effie assumed it was from her personal garden. She tried her best to give a warm smile.
“Thanks, Prosie. I really appreciate it.” Effie replied in a rather monotone voice. A stark contrast from the usual high pitched voice the woman usually sported.
“How are you?” Prosie asked, not really knowing how to respond to Effie’s unusual mood. She was usually the one being comforted rather than the comforter. Prosie felt guilty not knowing how to respond and help her.
“I'm okay. How is Jonah and the kids?” Effie asked quickly, changing the subject in the conversation.
“They’re a little shaken, but they’re alright for the most part.” Prosie responded. She knew that if her sister wasn’t ready to open up about something she wouldn’t. “Effie, you know you can talk to me right? And if there was something you needed to talk about you could always come to me?”
“Yes, Prosie. Please don’t concern yourself with me. You have a family to worry about. I’m managing just fine.”
The half full glass of wine on the table at 9 in the morning begged to differ.
“But Effie, you don’t even look like yourself.”
“Ouch. I look fine. I just need to shower and put on some fresh clothes. I was just about to do that before you came to my door at the crack of dawn.” Effie said rather dramatically. But, really she was starting to feel like this conversation with her sister would never end and in all honesty Effie didn’t want to talk about the situation. Not right now.
“Oh please, you just don’t want to tell me what’s wrong. I know that, but unfortunately I am worried. Deeply worried, Effie. So, I made a decision.”
Effie had fear in her eyes. “Oh, no. Prosie what did you do?”
“I scheduled you for an appointment with Zeckle Humberg. One of the top psychologists in the Capitol.”
“Prosie! I really don’t need you to do anything for me.”
“Effie, please just talk to the guy. I think you should be talking to someone, even if it’s not me.”
Effie considered that maybe her sister had a point. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, but she had a feeling Prosie wasn’t going to let this go if she didn’t attend this appointment. So, she caved.
“Alright, alright. I will talk to him, but from now on I don’t need you to intervene. I am okay. I promise.” Effie said, hoping to be able to take a little control of the situation in which she already felt powerless.
“Also I brought you this.” Prosie pulled a stack of pictures out of her purple leather handbag. “I had them printed for you before the war. I just hadn’t had the chance to give them to you.”
“Thank you, Prosie. Truly.” Effie had forgotten all about the pictures she had asked Prosie to print. She wasn’t even sure exactly which photos she had asked her to print out, but regardless she was thankful. She appreciated Prosie checking in on her, she just didn’t know how to accept help. She was always the helper.
The two women had talked for another hour or two before Prosie left to go back home to her family which lived about 2 hours away from Effie in the less urban part of the Capitol. Effie lived in the city in a highrise apartment, but it made sense for Prosie to live in a more suburban area. Effie, was now a middle aged woman who formerly had a thriving career and fashionable life in the city, while Prosie had married earlier on and had children retiring from the busy work she had done before settling down.
After taking a hot shower and putting on some fresher clothes Effie examined the pictures. It was like looking through memories. She had seen some pictures of her and some of her friends on top of the pile of photos and then she found a picture that was probably taken about 15 years ago of a younger man. Haymitch. The next picture was a photo she had taken of Haymitch, Katniss, and Peeta on the victory tour of the 74th games having dinner in District 12. Her heart rushed with feelings she thought she had suppressed. Not loud over the top feelings but more subtle ones of genuine care for her people. Specifically the man she had met every year for 25 years. Haymitch Abernathy.
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