The Truth About Cornelius Snow

"Dad, what did you do?" Cornelius cries. His voice cracks under the weight of his concern.

His father's knuckles, which are usually blackened from his day of work in the mines, glisten with blood. "She needed to be taught a lesson, Corny." He stumbles his way into the kitchen, holding his flask tightly against his chest. "Where did you put my whiskey?" He combs through the cabinets, throwing out anything that doesn't match what he's looking for.

"Where is she, dad?"

"I could've sworn I put it in the--"

Cornelius bolts into the kitchen and opens the cabinet where they keep their spices. Shifting through the clutter of bags and bottles, he grunts as his hand wraps around a bag of sugar. "Here," he says as he hands the bag over to his father, "It's in here."

"I don't want no goddamn--"

"The bottle is in the bag." Cornelius says. "Now tell me, where is mom?"

Cornelius' father looks towards him, and then down at the bag. "What did I tell you about hiding my liquor? The next time you put your grubby little fingers on my bottle, I swear to God I'll rip your tongue out and feed it to the birds."

"Go ahead, it's not like you listen to me when I talk, anyways!" Cornelius' voice, filled with malice and despair, has risen to a shout."Where is she?"

His father pulls the bottle of whiskey out of the bag and takes a swig. He closes his eyes, exhales, and says, "In the garden."

Immediately, Corny rushes to the aid of his mother. The crunch of dirt underneath his running feet echoes against the quiet outdoors. "Mom?" Silence greets him. His eyes scan the garden as he paces forward. The night sky, usually filled with shimmering stars and a welcoming moon, is covered with thick clouds.

"H-hello?"

Cornelius' eyes widen as he hears his mother's voice. "Mom!" He swivels on his heels, sprinting towards the direction from which the voice came. "I'm coming--keep talking so I can find where you are!" The long silence that follows forces Cornelius to pick up his pace. "Mom, please, I need you to--"

The scene that is laid out in front of him is enough to bring Cornelius to his knees. Crumpled into a ball, his mother lays, beaten and battered, in a bed of white roses--her blood flowing over them like a crimson sea.

"Mom?" Corny asks with hesitancy as tears begin to stream down his face. No response. He looks at his mother, and then down at the ground. He pauses for a moment, letting the wind brush against his rosy, tear-stained cheeks, and then turns around, heading toward his house.

A shaky voice arises from the bed of roses. "C-Corny?"

"Mom!" He rushes over to embrace her, only to remember that she is fragile, and must be handled with care. "I'm sorry I let this happen. I wish I could have been here to protect you. This is all my fault!" The words come pouring out of Cornelius as rapidly as the tears falling down his face.

"Corny, this isn't your fault. None of this is your fault." she states as she lightly, reassuringly, pats his hand.

"How could dad have done this to you?" His body jolts into uncontrollable trembles.

"It is the things we love most, Corny, that destroy us. You must never forget, dear," her voice softens. Cornelius moves in closer , clinging to every word that escapes from her ebbing memory. "That I will never stop lo--" Her voice trails off as the last breath escapes her parted lips.

Blood rolls off the petal of a white rose. A mockingjay wails in the distance. His heart freezes over, as cold as the winter Snow.