thearena | (no subject)

WHO | Lottie, Some, Howard, Draco, and Don, at various times.
WHAT | Sick Lottie is not doing so well.
WHEN | About a week in.
WHERE | Inside the building, hidden away.
WARNINGS / NOTES | Gruesome death. ~~But not Grue Some death.~~ I am working on the assumption that Some has her tucked away, and Don and Draco and Howard will come across her at different time. If anyone wants to actively kill her (Howard) or actively sit with her while she dies, just lemme know.

This was miserable.

She was covered in bruises. Every little touche seem to send bruised blossoming on her skin. And the knick on her leg when she had been tucked away here? Still oozing blood. Her brain felt feverish, fuzzy, and her hands trembled horridly whenever she tried to do, well...anything.

Some had left her with food and water, but it only made her feel guilty. Anything that went past her lips came right back out. She had given up on even trying anything besides sipping at the water.

At least, small favors, the little office they had found to tuck her away in had no mirrors. She could see redness on her hands, blisters and little sores. She knew she must look like a delight.

Time was moving strange. She caught her self singing, and had to force herself to stop. More than once. Than again, if someone found her in here and took her out, it wouldn't be too bad. She couldn't ask them to do that though.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I..."

He feels sick, and not just physically. Sick in his soul. He's not a killer, he hates dead bodies. And yet he's always believed that there are existences so awful that death would be mercy, and in her position he'd probably ask the same thing, but there's something so unfair about asking him to kill her. He's a kid. He's fifteen. He should be worried about freshman prom and getting a driver's permit, not scrabbling through a year of hell and then winding up here.

He doesn't have a knife, or a rope, or anything that would make this fast.

"I have poison, but you'd have to keep it down a few hours." His eyes travel to the socks he stole. He could smother her. It might be less horrible than bashing her head in with a rock.

"Oh, don't even worry about it darling. I'm not gonna make it a few hours."

She sighed, softly. And, disturbingly, wetly.

Shifting from her little nest, she looked up at him.

"Do good, then? I mean if you're gonna take it all, I expect you to do something with it."

Maybe a little bit of guilt. He was robbing her after all.

"I can..." He picks up a rock the size of a grapefruit. His hand is shaking evidently. "You'd just have to close your eyes. I'm sorry."

He doesn't want to do it, nor does he want to just leave her. He already feels the guilt. That she's giving permission somehow makes it worse.

"Thank you dear."

She whispers is so softly, she's not sure if he can here. But she squeezes her eyes closed, and tries to think about being home. For real. Not in the Capitol, but home with big Daddy and Tia and New Orleans right outside the door.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, then opens them again. He's not going to do her any favors if he misses and delivers a non-fatal blow. He drops the rock and cringes as it clatters on the floor, then picks it back up, holding it over his head like someone about to sacrifice a lamb, and smashes it down on her temple.

He doesn't know if that killed her, so he does it again, and a third time, and then he casts the rock away from him and scrambles away from the body and to the edge of the shelter, back to the wall. He curls up in the fetal position like a little kid, pretending that if he can't see it, the dead body will go away.

But it doesn't go away. The knowledge of it sits there in his stomach until he gags, sick on what he just did and the awareness that he would do it again, given the choice between that and dying. He opens his eyes and sees Lottie's blood-covered face, blank eyes gazing into space. Her hair is sticky with the halo of blood around her temple.

He creeps forward and kicks at her hand. It's limp. There's no reaction in her face.

He gathers up the socks and shoelaces, then steals her jacket, too.