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It’s only after that he realizes what he did. It’s only after that he retches, vomits into the sink and sits there in the bath. The words — his Words — are black. His words are black, and it’s his fault .
Since he was young, he had always stared at them. What are we going to do with you, Abernathy?
Abernathy, not Haymitch. Like mother, like son. Both of them, discarded like yesterday’s trash, or so it seemed.
Except he’d murdered him, boy from Two, Bronte, and even his mom hadn’t done something so horrifically horrendous. Haymitch Abernathy, more a monster than a man.