Red
Crimson red covered his clothes, splashes of that fluid stained his face. The body whose face lay shattered on the cold floor, his face was indecipherable but the screams of pain and pleas for life were still heard.
There was the river; but the screams only echoed around him, as if they were in a room with nothing around.
She looked around with her trembling body, looking for a way out of the hell that was tormenting her. His body refused to cooperate.
The screaming never stopped, it intensified. Shadows stumbling toward her were projected into her vision, elongated hands reaching for her. The screaming didn't stop.
The kunai in his trembling hand approached his chest, he wanted to end this.
Her vision was blurred by tears, the spasms in her body did not let her breathe. He was running out of oxygen, and he knew it.
His hand clenched tightly on the weapon, knuckles white from the pressure with which he made. He pulled her out within reach, and in one swift movement the kunai plunged deep into his chest, into his heart.
He jumped up from his bed, cold sweat running down his forehead and his breathing unsteady.
He had had a nightmare, again.
Since it happened, he has not been able to sleep peacefully. He always woke up in the middle of the night.
Since that day he has not endured red, he hated it. It made her remember that event. He couldn't see her hair again, it was red, like spilled blood.
He ran his finger between strands of hair, black. He had decided to dye it to never see him again, he hated how red his hair was.
Rising from her little bed on her way to the kitchen, a hot chocolate sounded good. He knew he would never get to sleep again, another sleepless night.
Pouring water into one of the few utensils he owned, he started the fire.
Searching the refrigerator, he found an apple, holding it up to the light, checking that it was still edible. A big bite of the fruit and he went to check the water, it was ready.
Placing the water in a glass, I look for instant chocolate, spoon, sugar and milk.
Putting in two tablespoons of chocolate, sugar and milk, he proceeded to stir until all the ingredients were integrated.
I take a sip checking its taste, it was fine. He tossed what was left of his old green apple into the trash can and continued taking big gulps of the drink. Enjoying how it burned her mouth and throat, her eyes began to water, but it didn't matter, it didn't compare to the pain her victim suffered, it didn't compare to her screams, it didn't compare to her pleas.
His gaze was fixed on the window; the sun was beginning to rise. His gaze went to the forgotten cup in his hands, he doesn't remember when he finished the drink.
The vision was stuck in the box in the corner; he remembers that his few red belongings could no longer bear to see them, he could not bear to have them, all he saw was blood. She doesn't exactly remember how they all got to the box, but she was sure of one thing: she was going to throw them away.
No matter where I looked, I always saw red.