Short Story Writing - Red (1st Draft)

Red

You told yourself that last time was supposed to be the last time. You wanted a normal life. You wanted the simple things in life. Friends, family, a job. You wanted to walk down the street and smile at a complete stranger, and have them smile back at you. You wanted to pluck flowers from your neighbors lawns and wear them in your hair. You wanted to fly kites on a sunny day and stare at that brightly colored diamond up in the sky. You wanted all these things, but life wouldn’t let you have them.

You’re standing here now, covered in blood. Its cold out, and your breath appears in little puffs of steam, but the warmth of freshly spilled blood keeps your hands warm. The night is bright, and the moonlight reflects off the blood, giving you a faint red glow. The blood is still bright red, and you can feel the oxygen still alive in the blood, warmth being wasted away upon your skin. The knife you hold in your hand slowly drips away freckles of red. You stare down at the steaming mass of red and black in front of you and smile, ever so slightly. You reach down and feel around into the mass of redness, and eventually pull out a wallet. You flip it open and stare at the stack of bills tucked in the seams. A quick snap echoes throughout the alley as you quickly shut the wallet and stuck it into your sweater pocket. You don’t even give him one last glance as you turn and walk away into the night.

***

You didn’t want to be like this. You remember only bits and pieces of your childhood. You remember your mother as being small. Fragile would be a good word to describe her. She would always wear aprons, and keep her hair tied up in a ponytail. You always pictured her in a kitchen, chopping onions and smiling, telling you that dinner would be coming up soon, or standing above you with a schoolbook, trying to home school you in the basics of Dr. Seuss and multiplication. You remember her face as being naturally pale. The traditional asian mom, you always thought. You don’t remember how or why she died. She just suddenly disappeared from your life one day, and all you can remember is feeling empty for awhile afterwards. You don’t have any memories of your father at all. Nothing, not even a faded picture stored away in a locket or a casual retelling of his existence from a friend of his. You could only picture him through your own looks. Everything about yourself that you didn’t see in your mother became your father. Any mirror you could get your hands on became the closest picture of your father that you could remember. After awhile though, you stopped caring who he was, because he obviously didn’t care enough to find you.

You bounced from family to family for awhile, trading frowns from abusive foster parents for ignorant glances from social workers too busy to care you were there. Fourteen was the turning point in your life. The government decided that you were old enough to live on your own, so they sent you to the city. Living all alone as a young teenager in the apartment you currently reside in, with the only human contact coming from the government worker that arrived each Monday to bring you a box of groceries. You were amazed by the amount of freedom you had. You were finally able to eat ice cream for dinner and run around in your underwear like you always wanted too. These brief periods of joy quickly went away when you realized that the ever empty rooms of your apartment weren’t good for developing a social life.

You decided to take baby steps first, and explore your apartment building. That first night still haunts your dreams to this day. You poked your head out the door and looked from side to side, only to be met by empty hallways and flickering yellow lights. You stepped out and cautiously put each foot in front of the other, hoping not to cause any disruptions to any future friends. You walked close to the walls, hoping that it would provide for protection against any unseen dangers. Your fingers ran against the wall, scraping away flakes of dry wallpaper in clumps that fell to the floor, joining the ground level community of plastic penny bags, permanent dirt, and the empire of ants that marched along the unnaturally brown carpet. The silence was only marred by a distant door slamming or heavy footsteps from above.

You walked alone to the door to the stairway, and paused for a second. Your face looked almost scared for a second, almost as if you were contemplating running back to your apartment and becoming one with the sheets on your bed. You reached your hand out slowly to grab the doorknob and you let your hand reach fully around it. You could feel the rust breaking away from the iron onto your hand as you pulled the door towards you. You began to walk into the dark stairway when you felt your foot meet something rigid. Your eyes moved down to meet the two pale legs that were impeding your progress. Your mouth and eyes seemed to open wider in unison as the shock of finding random legs grew in your body. You wanted to run away. You wanted to escape to the comfort of your bed. Your morals wouldn’t allow it to happen though. You ran your eyes along the legs and found that they were connected to an unmoving woman. She was slouched against the wall, her head in her chest. Her messy grey hair was strewn along her body, falling everywhere in clumps that resembled an oil spill. She was clothed in nothing more then faded blue shorts and a white tank top that clung loosely to her skinny frame. You could see the veins through her lucid skin. Tiny red dots adorned her inner forearm, as if someone was sewing a patter into her arm and then decided to pull out all the thread. You began to move forward, trying to find any signs of life. Trying to see a finger twitch. Hoping to see her chest rise and fall with new air. Closer and closer you came, until you were nearly over her, You paused for a second, wishing for something, anything to happen, but finally you began to slowly retreat backwards. A quick hand around your wrist changed all that though. You saw two eyes, desperately yellow, staring straight into your own. You felt an unnaturally cold hand grasp your wrist, firm, but not much else. You heard a voice, barely able to escape cracked lips and crooked teeth. ”Save me.”

You ran back to your apartment and quickly dialed those three numbers that had saved so many before. You tried to calm your breathing as the operator answered with tiredness in her voice.

“911 emergencies, how may I assist you?”
“Help! There’s someone that needs help”
“Ok miss I’ll need you to calm down. Can you tell me your location?”
“I’m at the Rivera apartments. Please a woman is very sick!”
“Oh the Rivera place again? We send people there at least three times a day. Sigh alright well we’ll try sending someone out there”

You ran back to the woman and sat next to her, hoping to provide her with as much comfort as your arms could give. The only thing you could do now was wait and dodge the disapproving glances of those passing by on the stairway. It was well over an hour before the police arrived. You looked at them with bright eyes as they walked up the stairway, but they quickly faded as you saw the metal handcuffs being placed on her wrists and seeing her dragged down the stairs.

“Wait, what are you doing?”
“Taking her in. A good night in jail will sober her up enough for court.”
“But she needs help!”
“We are helping. By taking druggies like this one off the streets. Thanks for calling her in.”

You sat there, a look of defeat on your face. Help. That was all she needed and you had failed her. You walked back to your apartment and sat on your bed, stuck there with an eternal stare that lasted until sleep finally took over.

That was the end of your journeys outside, at least until school began for you. Freshman at a public high school after being homeschooled your whole life. You didn’t exactly know how to feel sitting in that chair in class on the first day, just a quiet spot in a classroom filled with noise. You could feel the stares of other students, but whenever you moved your eyes to meet theirs, they would quickly look away. That first day went by quickly. Nobody tried to talk to you, but a lot of people seemed to notice you. You thought it was because you were the new girl in school, but that’s not what was running through the minds of the students at school. No, you were just the new cute face at school. The boys loved how your hair hugged the sides of your face and curved ever so slightly underneath your chin. They loved how your sweater would catch your growing curves in just the right places. They loved how you seemed to almost glide through daily life. And the girls, they hated how you were able to pull all this off without even trying.

As time began to go by, the students began to take a little more interest in you. They would try talking to you, but ever since the incident with the drugged up woman, you’ve found it hard to put trust into people in this city. You’d just walk through campus and return all the greetings with a fake smile that you hung from your face. You began to notice that one boy was taking an even greater interest in you than all the others. You knew him as Alex Tate, the boy who would always walk you to class, the boy who would volunteer to be your partner for projects, and the boy who would insist on buying you lunch every day. The rest of campus knew him as the star guard on the basketball team with great grades. The only one on campus that had a future.

You can just barely remember the moment that changed it all now. It’s hard for you to tell the difference from truth and fiction with how long it’s been since it happened. It’s all just a blur with random images of the past quickly flashing by like a film reel with every other scene cut out. You remember that final project in lab class. You and Alex working away after school, just you and him in the lab. It all started with him asking a simple question. “Will you go to prom with me?” You remember saying no, and after that it mostly becomes numb. You remember two hands clutching your shoulders and being pushed back against the lab bench. You remember him angrily growling at you. “Do you know who I am? I get what I want!” You remember looking straight up, trying not to feel the hands invading the inside of your sweater or the cold air creeping over newly exposed legs. You didn’t fight back, knowing that you’d only get hurt more in the process. You just let it happen, keeping your eyes fixated on the tiles in the celing.

Lost. That was the only word that could describe you. You knew the school board would do nothing to harm their prized possession. They would just spout off something about how such an incident would ruin his life and the schools reputation. You could do nothing except go home. You tried to press down your tangled hair and clear the tears from your eyes. You tried to put your now ripped and stretched out sweater back on. You did your best to clean up the blood creeping down your inner thighs. You walked back to your apartment, and began the slow walk up the stairs. With each step, you could feel a new pain in your stomach as you felt wetness begin to run down your leg. You stopped at the final step and stared cloudy eyed at the spot where you found the woman. A slight smile came to your face as you knew what to do.

***

You’re showering now, washing away the stains of life as a constant river of red flows down the drain. You run your hands through your long black hair, picking out the small pieces of coagulated blood. The light bulb flickers violently in the small box that you call your bathroom. The shrill hum of the water coming out of the showerhead echoes off the ceramic tiles on the walls. You can hear the faucet squeak as you turn the water off and wrap a towel around your head. You walk over to the mirror and wipe your hand across it to clear the steam.

You slide the towel down your hair, drying it and letting it naturally fall into its layers. You quickly dry the rest of your body and begin to put on the layers of your life. A v-neck t-shirt to reveal a little skin. Plaid black skirt, for that school-girl look you know the guys love. A dash of black under your eyes, to make them look bigger and more innocent. A touch of lipstick for that added appeal. Finally, a red sweater, zipped up halfway, to make you stand out against the night. You wrapped the hood halfway around your head and stepped into your bedroom. You walked over to your laundry and grabbed the wallet out from the pocket of your sweater. You pulled out the stack of bills and tossed the wallet on top of the pile of wallets in your closet. You grabbed your purse and checked the inside of it. A familiar metallic shine met your gaze. You walked out of your apartment and down the hallway. You stopped at a door and softly tapped on the door. A woman answered, and smiled at you. You reached out your hand and handed her the stack of bills. “Here, get what you need.” She reached out a scarred arm and took the money from your hand. She mouthed thank you repeatedly as she squeezed your hands. You heard a child’s voice behind her and she looked at you once more with bright eyes, and closed the door.

You walked down the stairway and out of your apartment building. You were met with a cool gush of air from the night skies and it made the hair on your arms bristle up. You began to walk down the street, walking past dark alleys and dimly lit doorways. Eyes began to stare at you as you walked through the city, a streak of red painting its way through the night. You noticed a figure following you so you decided to turn into an alley. You heard hurried footsteps from behind and you felt a firm hand grasp your shoulder. “Hey little girl you lost? Lemme take you home with me.” You reached into your purse and one slash was all it took to end that voice. You felt around his body and pulled out his wallet. You know the cops wouldn’t care about finding an unidentified body around this area. You put the wallet in your pocket and began the walk back home.

Each time still feels as good as it did that very first night. Waiting for him to come home after his basketball game. You stood there on his porch, leaning ever so slightly against the archway. You kept one hand behind your back and the other hand you kept over the smile that appeared as soon as he got out of his car. He started towards you, hesitant at first, but your innocent look made him bolder with each step. He asked what you were doing there and you responded with “I understand now.” You smiled with your eyes as he came ever closer and asked what you understood. You opened your mouth to respond, as you plunged the knife you had carefully hid behind your back into his stomach. “I understand how it all works now.”

You ran back to your apartment building, afraid that someone would see you covered in blood, but the streets were empty that night, and if anyone did see you, they were probably more scared of a beautiful girl covered in blood holding a knife than you were of their questioning tongues. You made it to your apartment and ran into the shower, clothing and all. You almost screamed knowing that you had actually done it. You couldn’t wait to utilize the money you had just earned.

You remember finally seeing her, freshly released from prison, staggering down the hallway. You caught up to her, and grabbed her arm. You didn’t know if she recognized you or not, but the money you put into your hand from Alex’s wallet made her stare at you with those same yellow eyes. You told her for the first time. “Get what you need.” You walked away as she leaned against the hall, staring at the money in her hand.

Its been 4 years since that first night. You used to be scared. Scared that you’d fall into a pattern and just get bored and desensitized to the rush of feeling your knife in the stomach of a predator, but that rush hasn’t changed at all. You still feel the same whenever you take out their wallet and stare at the bills they keep inside. You still smile the same, every time you give her that new stack of money.


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This definitely needs to be worked on. Theres alot I added in just for the sake of reaching the 10 page minimum. Darn those rules. This started out as a modern take on Little Red Riding Hood, but it ended up as more of a Robin Hood tale than anything else. Well I hope you enjoy and I will rework this as needed.