Status: Completed.
Seeing Red
de voir rouge
“Please, don’t shut me out.”
“You don’t understand,” she says, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She shakes her head lightly, “You’ll never understand – not unless you’re placed in my shoes.”
He stares at her, his eyes tracing her from head to toe. She was perched on the sill of her bay window, staring through the glass, completely unaware of what the scene outside truly looked like. Her hair was neatly braided together to one side and she played with the ends of it, twisting the small tips around her fingers and then smoothing them out. Her eyes remained transfixed on the window – her brown orbs so different than what they used to be. The shine that was once attached to them had been replaced by a shadow long ago. Now she remains in a place where he’s not – a limbo.
“Tell me,” he finally demands. He steps further into the room and sits beside her.
“Tell you what?”
“What it’s like to always be in the dark.” If he was being honest, he didn’t want to know. The thought of not being able to see the sun rises and sets, the stars and his friends and family – it was a scary. But he’d do just about anything for her. He just wanted to know what was going on inside of her mind. He used to be able to tell – her eyes always betrayed her emotions. But now they were vacant.
“It’s lonely,” she finally speaks, “And cold.” She tears her eyes away from the window and turns her gaze to his face. She reaches her hand up and touches his cheek, picturing his face as she runs the tips of her fingers across the stubble along his jaw. “It’s quiet and everything feels like winter, when the wind bites at your exposed skin and makes it tingle. It’s open and wide but empty, like you’re looking up at the sky when there’s no clouds or stars.” She pauses. He remains captured by the words slipping through her pink lips in a hushed tone, afraid to miss even one bit of her thoughts. Her fingers move over his face, along his lips, up the bridge of his nose, and across each of his eyebrows. “But it’s mostly just dull and bare,” she murmurs.
“You can’t imagine the colors?”
She smiles, but it's a sad one. "I see red."
"Red?"
"Yes. It's the only color I can remember perfectly. Sometimes, I dream about the sun setting in the horizon, red like fire, orange and yellow. I can still picture those red poppies your mom used to plant around your mailbox, too - God, she loved those flowers."
"She still does."
"And I can picture that red shirt you loved in high school. Do you still have it?"
"Yes."
She smiles, taking a deep breath. "I can picture strawberries and Christmas ornaments, blood, ketchup and roses. I just....remember red. It's like the only color that I've been able to hold onto."
"Red is my favorite color," he mumbles, following her gaze out the window.
She nods, "I know."
“You don’t understand,” she says, brushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She shakes her head lightly, “You’ll never understand – not unless you’re placed in my shoes.”
He stares at her, his eyes tracing her from head to toe. She was perched on the sill of her bay window, staring through the glass, completely unaware of what the scene outside truly looked like. Her hair was neatly braided together to one side and she played with the ends of it, twisting the small tips around her fingers and then smoothing them out. Her eyes remained transfixed on the window – her brown orbs so different than what they used to be. The shine that was once attached to them had been replaced by a shadow long ago. Now she remains in a place where he’s not – a limbo.
“Tell me,” he finally demands. He steps further into the room and sits beside her.
“Tell you what?”
“What it’s like to always be in the dark.” If he was being honest, he didn’t want to know. The thought of not being able to see the sun rises and sets, the stars and his friends and family – it was a scary. But he’d do just about anything for her. He just wanted to know what was going on inside of her mind. He used to be able to tell – her eyes always betrayed her emotions. But now they were vacant.
“It’s lonely,” she finally speaks, “And cold.” She tears her eyes away from the window and turns her gaze to his face. She reaches her hand up and touches his cheek, picturing his face as she runs the tips of her fingers across the stubble along his jaw. “It’s quiet and everything feels like winter, when the wind bites at your exposed skin and makes it tingle. It’s open and wide but empty, like you’re looking up at the sky when there’s no clouds or stars.” She pauses. He remains captured by the words slipping through her pink lips in a hushed tone, afraid to miss even one bit of her thoughts. Her fingers move over his face, along his lips, up the bridge of his nose, and across each of his eyebrows. “But it’s mostly just dull and bare,” she murmurs.
“You can’t imagine the colors?”
She smiles, but it's a sad one. "I see red."
"Red?"
"Yes. It's the only color I can remember perfectly. Sometimes, I dream about the sun setting in the horizon, red like fire, orange and yellow. I can still picture those red poppies your mom used to plant around your mailbox, too - God, she loved those flowers."
"She still does."
"And I can picture that red shirt you loved in high school. Do you still have it?"
"Yes."
She smiles, taking a deep breath. "I can picture strawberries and Christmas ornaments, blood, ketchup and roses. I just....remember red. It's like the only color that I've been able to hold onto."
"Red is my favorite color," he mumbles, following her gaze out the window.
She nods, "I know."
♠ ♠ ♠
Usually "seeing red" means someone is so angry they're 'seeing red' but I decided to use it a little differently!de voir rouge means 'to see red' in french.