What Dreams May Come (Closed to Effie and Juliet)
When he was awake, when he was drinking, it was easy enough to tune out the memories which haunted him. It was when he slept that they really took their toll. How long had it been since he'd had a true, restful sleep? He couldn't remember. Decades he supposed.
Most nights he drank until he was incapable of coherent thought, let alone dreams. Passing out on Effie's couch (now that his room had been barred from him) in a stupor or alcohol, but the memories had been particularly persistent as of late, forcing themselves into what little rest he managed.
He'd been waking up at all hours of the night, in a cold sweat, jolting upright on the hide-a-bed, before sinking solemnly back onto his borrowed sheets, fighting exhaustion but eventually drifting off again back into his nightmares.
Darkness was all he could see, and in the darkness the sixteen year old boy inside him knew there was death. Screams, and echoes and ripping things. Monsters who were really children. Maysilee, crouched in the darkness, dragged away her screams changing into the cries of the little girl the village had given to he and Effie. Masie, slipping away, Dada... Dada...
Haymitch tossed, thrashing against his pillows, moaning, screaming maybe, in his sleep as he tried to hold on to her.
Most nights he drank until he was incapable of coherent thought, let alone dreams. Passing out on Effie's couch (now that his room had been barred from him) in a stupor or alcohol, but the memories had been particularly persistent as of late, forcing themselves into what little rest he managed.
He'd been waking up at all hours of the night, in a cold sweat, jolting upright on the hide-a-bed, before sinking solemnly back onto his borrowed sheets, fighting exhaustion but eventually drifting off again back into his nightmares.
Darkness was all he could see, and in the darkness the sixteen year old boy inside him knew there was death. Screams, and echoes and ripping things. Monsters who were really children. Maysilee, crouched in the darkness, dragged away her screams changing into the cries of the little girl the village had given to he and Effie. Masie, slipping away, Dada... Dada...
Haymitch tossed, thrashing against his pillows, moaning, screaming maybe, in his sleep as he tried to hold on to her.