Red's Heart

In the time I had known Red, I had never imagined the secrets she had held. My selfishness and pride had outweighed my curiosity over the girl, blindsiding me to the mysteries of her past, but that kiss. That kiss hadn’t been anything I had ever felt. The hunger. The animosity. In an instant, Red had transformed from the fearful, curious girl to an angry and lustful demon.

The adrenaline of my anger dimmed. My thoughts slowly filtering through as I stood bathed beneath the light of the moon. The trees swayed in a gentle breeze that didn’t seem to reach me and for the first time I felt the chill winter air bite at my bare skin.

I was still hard. Red made a point of looking lustfully at my penis before smirking in amusement. Her eyes glinted in the moonlight. It shone like the round disks of a cat’s. Oh, my Red. She was definitely an interesting creature. A monster behind that mask of innocence.

“What are you?” I sneered.

My footsteps made a wide arched trench around her still form as I paced back and forth. Red’s eyes never left mine. The corners of her blood red lips curled up at the corners in a way that had my desire seething. The lust was beginning to overwhelm me. But I had to know. I needed to know why the girl from my dreams was not afraid.

“How ironic,” she replied. “For a monster to ask such a thing.”

I snapped at her, my teeth growing longer and sharper. A flicker of that fear in her eyes rose to the surface before quickly disappearing. No matter. That was all I needed. I snickered under her gaze. Under the façade she had built up for herself. And I darted forward.

Her back slammed against a tree, my hand wrapped tightly around her throat as I trailed a claw down her cheek. My tongue ran over my chapped lips, moistening them as beads of crimson welled from the cut drawn onto her cheek. I breathed the air, thick of sweat and fear, and now infusing with the scent of her blood. The tips of my fingers tingled and I groaned.

Red’s fear was leaking from her skin. Melting through her eyes, her lips quivering beneath my gaze. Whatever strength she had held a moment ago dwindled on a thin line, ready to snap. Her face was already falling into the terror welling up inside her. Oh, how simply magnificent it would be to see those crystal tears of hers fall down that pale face.

Yes, this was the Red I knew. The girl dressed in her bright red hood. The one I lusted after and the one that I loved.

Loved

Ugly whispers sneered that single word, scraping it through my body in a screeching spasm like nails down a chalkboard. I hesitated. My sneer faltered for that tiny fraction of a second and within that moment, I was trapped. Red had caught me, her frightened eyes narrowing as the corner of her mouth curled up. A low growl hummed in my chest as she tilted her head to the side, exposing her long pale neck.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she purred. “Don’t like what you see?”

My grip tightened around her throat as I slammed her into the tree again. Frost fluttered down at the vibration echoing through the branches. The piled snow threatened to escape the narrow clutches. My eyes remained trained on Red, forcing myself to stop from thinking about the blood dripping down the dark trunk of the tree.

“Oh,” Red gasped with a slight laugh. “So forceful. Why don’t you try that when you fuck me?” The girl squirmed in my grip, thrusting her thigh between my legs and rubbing. “Tell me, did Alice ever tell you where she came from?”

Red spat the name out with such malice and disgust that I smirked and tilted my head in curiosity.

“Her mother, you see, was raped as a child,” Red continued, casually. Her voice was airy and light, as if starting off a fairytale with ‘once upon a time’. “She was too young to take care of a baby, and so her grandmother took the child under her wing. At least until grandmother was beaten to death with the hilt of a kitchen knife. Oh, the blood,” Red smiled, her eyes shining merrily at the memory. “It just oozed from her body. So slowly. Spreading around her like angel wings.”

My brow lifted at her words, my tense body backing away from the girl with blood matted hair. At the girl who adjusted her red cloak on her shoulders and fingered the knitted red heart around her neck. She sighed contently as I waited for her story to continue.

“She made this,” Red said. “The day the baby was handed to her, and this,” Red tugged at a piece of material sticking out of the back of the heart, pulling at it mercilessly until it came free. “This used to be white.”

My eyes travelled over the ribbon without much care. It smelled of old blood, and was crinkled and hardened. Coloured a dark brown. Clearly it was some sort of keepsake the way she held it lovingly in her small hand. Lightly, she closed her palm and brought the blood dried ribbon to her chest.

“Alice,” she spat. “Was sent to a pretty little home with lots of nice white walls to colour. Ah, but alas, we were trapped in a nice warm white jacket.”

I smiled at Red’s disappointed shrug. At the lust now filling her after excitedly telling her story. At the memory of washing her hands in blood. Suddenly, my Little Red was not so different from me. I would keep her forever.