The King of the Red

Ah, the sweet sound of red. Red tells no lies. Red keeps my secrets, though it won’t share them with me either. I am the red; the red is me. With my eyes shut, the whole world is red, free of lies, free of pawing hands and mouths that spew lies.

“Cate! Cate! Don’t fade out me now, sweetie. We can still make…”
“Step away, Mr. Hend.”

Breathe deep the red that is all around, surging amongst a sea of white. But what is this? There is more red, a familiar twinge of crimson color that is not me but is known to me. I can feel it. I can feel him. My Kind of the Red has returned to me, come to free me from the white.
His touch is ecstacy and oblivion. My will is taken up in his red; it’s a prettier red, so pretty. I shall sleep a thousand slumbers in his red. Even now, everything fades from white, to red, to black.

“But how? She was raging, too powerful?”
“She wasn’t the only experiment, Mr. Hend. We’ll be taking her now, home to Poplar Hill.”
“I don’t understa…”
“We’re done here.”

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