Hey Lucy, I remember your name
I left a dozen roses on your grave today
I'm in the grass on my knees, wipe the leaves away
I just came to talk for a while, got some things I need to say
The autumn wind is barely a presence in the graveyard that evening, no more than the leaves that are scattered across the ground. Calling it a graveyard is a stretch. It's no more than a pile of dirt, thoughtfully tossed onto a mound of dead bodies. You'd think being the sister of the Girl on Fire herself would at least land her somewhere a little nicer, but a death is a death in a war zone. No more, no less.
I roll the rose between my fingers. The evening primrose was the same color of the moon, which hung half above the trees, winking in the way the moon does, just shy of a full moon. I tried to pick the richest rose I could find, as I walked by their home. Someone — him, probably — had planted a perfect row of primroses. They were an easy enough pick as I crossed town that eerie night.
The grass is crunchy beneath my feet, dried brown by the autumn sun. It's been a hot summer and a steamy autumn, which does nothing for the crop fields that fill the space where the mines used to be. Even the mouth of the mines has been used as a farmer's stand.
My knees buckle when I reach the pile. Nobody even thought to put up any marker, any stone with any names. No thank you, no acknowledgement. But, everyone knows this place. The children never venture into the meadow to play, and the animals never graze on the grass. Everyone knows … this is a sacred place.
I brush away the long grasses, which snap under my scarred fingers. Katniss' fingers have been made over so many times by the Capitol, her manicured hands bear no resemblance to the hands that slid across the bow, bringing down kill after animal. The hands that tenderly brought up every herb, healed every wound. They bear no resemblance to the hands of monsters that I find at the end of my wrists, scarred and calloused, bloodied and cut.
But, it's not my hands that I will communicate with. "Prim," I whisper, through the dry breeze. "I've got some things I need to say."
Now that it's over, I just wanna hold her
I'd give up all the world to see
That little piece of heaven looking back at me
The last time I saw Katniss, she told me she still saw her little duck. Still saw her walking home from school, or arranging herbs in the apothecary. And after that, I swore that I saw her, too. She was my little duck, too, and perhaps, Rory's as well.
But, there is nothing left to her but dust and ashes. I dig my fingers into the dirt, letting the primrose fall to the grass. I feel the grit collect under my fingernails, but I begin to dig. I scoop the dirt, the sand, the incomprehensible amount of ash away, clawing at the rocks and grass roots. "Oh, Prim," I murmur as I finally pull my hands back into my lap. My eyes begin to get wet, and I drop my head.
"Why?" I choke out, pressing my palms back against the dirt. "I'm so sorry, little duck, I'm so sorry," but nobody hears my words besides the lonely moon.
Hey Lucy, I remembered your birthday
They said it'd bring some closure to say your name
I know I'd do it all different if I had the chance
But all I got are these roses to give
And they can't help me make amends
I begin to come to the empty hill religiously every night. Soon, they will notice their evening primrose bushes growing less by a single rose each night, but for now, it is my only routine. I tighten the grip of the rose in my hand, barely feeling the thorns against the rough skin of my palm.
"Prim," I whisper again. The breeze catches it, pulling it away from me. Maybe it will bring it to her, six feet under. Or maybe it will bring it to her, six feet above, in the warm arms of a boy who loved her and had the will to tell her.
What if I hadn't come up with that bomb? What if I had decided to wait? What if I had checked, and checked, and checked, to make sure Prim wouldn't be there? What if I had been more careful?
I pause briefly by the rock that Katniss and I used to meet at each Sunday. Each time I rig a snare, bring down an animal, I feel another death on my conscious, another scratch on my slate. I soon stop hunting altogether, which is fine enough since I rarely feel anything besides guilt anymore.
I kneel at the top of the hill, where the prints from my knees have worn into the dirt. I crouch down, pressing my forehead to the ground. "Happy birthday, Primrose," I breathe. "You know you meant the world to everyone who knew you."
I tuck the rose under the sand, removing the one from the previous night. For some reason, I find it necessary to replace the rose by moonlight each night. Come rain, snow or sleet, I give a rose to a dead girl every time the clock strikes twelve.
Now that it's over, I just wanna hold her
I'd give up all the world to see
That little piece of heaven looking back at me
"I'm sorry. You deserved so much more then the life you were given, and the life I was careless enough to take. You know that I would never have done if I had known you were there. It gives no comfort to know you died in the name of freedom, because it should have been me, a killer, who died to free everyone else," I dig my teeth into my lip as my eyes well shut with tears. "I am so, so sorry, Prim."
I beat my fists against the ground. "You deserve so much more than what I did. You don't deserve to tread the same ground I do," I clench my eyes shut, which does no more then leave me in the darkness I deserve.
"I would do absolutely anything to bring you back," I continue. I bring my hands to my ears, covering them as I let out a scream. "I can't believe I was so careless! Damn it, why?"
Now that it's over, I just wanna hold her
I've gotta live with the choices I made
And I can't live with myself today
"It was me!" I bellow. "It was me! It was my fault!" I let out a gut wrenching scream as my stomach contracts, breaking my words into sobs and frail cries.
"I did it to you, Prim," I wail. I slam my fists back into the ground, pounding till my hands are brown from dust and blue from bruise. "I killed you! I killed you. I killed you …"
I feel sick. I am sick. I will live forever with a sickening nausea in my stomach, a hammering headache, a general feel of miserableness. It haunts me, weighs each step and action and word. And I deserve it — I deserve so much more than just this — but, being killed would be too easy. It would let me off.
If I had to live forever like this, homeless, friendless, sick, I would, if it meant Prim could live.
Sometimes when I meet the gaze of other people in town, I feel them pitying me. Pitying the poor boy who killed his lover's sister. But, when I look at the lone noose, hanging mysteriously in a tree of the forest, I don't feel the urge to take my own life. That would be too easy. It's a way out of what I deserve, but I've already cheated enough in life.
Here we are, now you're in my arms
I never wanted anything so bad
Here we are for a brand new start
Living the life that we could've had
I'm in another world, now, and Prim is there. She's in her reaping outfit, the tails of her shirt untucked and trailing in the breeze. "Gale!" she chirps as she rushes towards me. I squint my eyes, confused, but open my arms nonetheless.
"Hey, little bird," I laugh, though I'm not controlling my own actions. "Seen Catnip around lately?"
"She was looking for you earlier," Prim says surely, in my arms. "Look!" she suddenly says, now hoisted up on my shoulders.
I follow her arm till I see what she's pointing at. A mockingjay dives through the air, perching upon a branch where it lets out a beautiful tune. "A mockingjay," I breathe.
"They stop and listen whenever my father or Katniss sings," Prim whispers.
I nod, smiling as I secure my fingers around her legs, draped across my shoulders. "You try, little bird. I'm sure they'll listen for you, as well."
"I don't know …" she trails off, bumping her heels into my chest.
"Just try," I say. "It's just me and you here."
"Are you, are you, coming to the tree . . ."she begins. She sounds just as melodic as her sister and her father. Her voice is like honey, but even more pure and sweet.
"Where they strung up a man they say murdered three," I join in, but I'm not sure why. I've never been much of a singer, never one for music either way, but I find myself trying to match the notes.
"Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be," we continue, facing the bird.
"If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree," and when we finish, the mockingjay tilts it's little bird beak right at us, and sings back a tune sweeter than anything I've ever heard.
Here we are, now you're in my arms
I never wanted anything so bad
Here we are for a brand new start
Living the life we could've had
"Don't you want to see Katniss, Gale?" Prim asks, her little dainty fingers wrapped around my chin, as her own rests on my head.
"No, little bird, I'm here to see you," I reply without thinking.
I swear I can hear the little girl smile. "I know."
Me and Lucy walking hand in hand
Me and Lucy never wanna end
Just another moment in your eyes
I'll see you in another life in heaven
Where we never say goodbye
Still, Prim is with me. But now, we are in the meadow, her meadow, her final resting place, her pale hand in mine as we make our way to the bushes. "What's your favorite berry, Prim?"
"Oh, I like blackberries the best," she says.
I chuckle, the same I might give to Katniss. "Let's go, then, I know a place where they're more juicy then you've ever tasted."
Prim breaks into a run, and I feel a smile warming my face, the sun warming a cold, shadowed land. "Race you!" she calls over her shoulder. For a wisp of thing, she's quick and sly, and reaches the lush bushes before I do. But, before I can reach her, she reaches for the biggest, jet black berry on the bush.
I can taste the rich berry on my tongue, when I realize it's nightlock.
"Prim! No!"
Now that it's over, I just wanna hold her
I've gotta live with the choices I mad
And I can't live with myself today
My heart is threatening to beat right out of my chest, when I find myself awake. The earth is tragically black, and no matter how much I search around, I can't find my little bird anywhere. "Prim! Prim! Where are you?" I scream, clutching at my chest as my heart speeds up. Where is she?
Here we are, now you're in my arms
Here we are for a brand new start
I got to live with the choices I made
And I can't live with myself today
But, she's back in my view. She's there, she's alive, her blue eyes shining back at me. "What?" she asks, rolling the berry in her palm.
Me and Lucy walking hand in hand
Me and Lucy never wanna end
I've got to live with the choices I've made
And I can't live with myself today
"That's nightlock!" I holler, as I try to run the last feet to her.
Hey Lucy, I remember your name
But, when I've finally reached her, she is laying on the ground. A little bird, fallen.