Coriolanus shoots Lucy Gray, then finds her still clinging to life on the forest floor.
Dive into the twisted mind of Coryo and the lengths he will go through to ensure Lucy Gray can't ever run from him again.
||Author's note: I am writing this by request, and so if there is anything you'd like to see just ask in a comment and I'll see if I can add it to the story! ||
I just shot Lucy Gray.
My ears are ringing and it still isn't loud enough to drown out the mockingjays.
She stumbled here. I swear, I saw it. Venom sends pain all through my arm. Am I going to die? How could she do this to me?
“Lucy Gray!” I don't even realize I'm screaming her name.
It's too early for katniss. The leaves are still wet, sticking to my hands and knees as I search for proof that…
I just shot Lucy Gray.
I hear her everywhere and nowhere. My beautiful songbird. You're hurt.
Red on the ground, a splatter here and there. Leaves crushed in my hands. Spread on my gun.
How many kills before I lose track?
“Lucy Gray!” My throat is sore and my heart is beating out of my chest. I scour the ground like a dog. Desperate. Feral. A scuff here, a stumble there.
The ringing gets louder. The birds are a cacophony of her. It's beautiful, it's maddening. Just like,
“Lucy Gray!” I scream as I chase her trail. Her blood is my lifeline. Why did she make me do this?
Then, through the madness,
“ Corio …”
A pained whisper, softer than wind through grass. There's a tangle of roots, a splatter of blood, and a torn piece of fabric.
My heart beats twice as fast as I race down the hill, sliding over soggy leaves, tangled thorns digging into my skin. The venom reached my heart and it's spreading everywhere, a wildfire in my veins.
There she is.
Spread about the fallen leaves—wavy black hair, bright dress now stained with blood, skin drained of its warm hue—a mosaic of macabre colors.
“LUCY GRAY!” My voice cracks as I race to her fallen form. She's so beautiful, my angel.
Her eyelids flutter when I pull her into my arms. Fragile little bird. I brush her hair from her sweaty forehead and press my fingers against her neck. Her pulse is so faint, cold dread quenches the fire in my veins.
I search for the source of the blood. A hole in her calf, leaking still. Her dress is already torn, what's one more tear? I rip off a length of fabric and tie it beneath her knee.
“You can't leave me, Lucy Gray,” I whisper, cradling her close.
Her eyes flutter again and meet mine, hazed with pain. I don't hear her speak, but I feel her question sear into my brain.
Why?
“Why? You know why, Lucy Gray. You always knew. You belong to me, but I don't belong out here with you. I never have. You know I did everything to save you. To save us. I love you, why don't you love me enough to forgive me?”
She doesn't respond. Her eyes are vacant, staring up at the mockingjays that rain torment from above.
The venom in my veins is subsiding now, or perhaps integrating with my blood. I can still save us.
My gun slung over my shoulder, I rise from my knees, holding my beautiful Lucy Gray.
If I can forgive her, surely she will forgive me. We have both hurt each other, but love conquers all—right?
Eventually I reach the cabin. I lay her on the bed, and press a kiss to her forehead. I need to find help. Thankfully, I know she can't possibly leave me in this condition. It's ironic how, in this moment, I feel more secure in our love.
If I didn't love her, I wouldn't have saved her. She needs to stop running from me. If she had only stayed where I could see her, I would have never needed to shoot her.
A cool serenity washes over me as I look down at her weakened form. This is better for us, isn't it? She's so beautiful, she needs me so desperately. Yes, I need her to need me.
I don't flinch as I approach her bedside. We need this, don't we? We need stability, and we can only have it if I can keep her safely under my control. And in order to do that, she has to stop leaving me.
I trace my hand down her bloodied leg, to her thin and fragile ankle. I can do this with my bare hands, can't I? Yes, it'll be easy. She's a bird, their tiny bones snap like twigs.
One deep breath.
CRACK!
She doesn't even flinch. Her foot hangs at an unnatural angle.
Once more, for good measure. One hand on her heel, the other over the arch of her delicate foot.
CRUNCH!
Her foot is mangled now, twisted, her tiny bones splintered like so many fragments of wood.
A small smile flits over my lips.
No one said love didn't hurt.
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