Disclaimer: Little Red Riding Hood does not belong to me (the writer). It only serves to inspire this story.

CHAPTER I – Legend of the Cloak

Candlelight flickered in the windowsill of the Reid residence as snow fell softly, making the ground look like a fluffy blanket. Little Rita Reid sat near the bay window, head resting on her arms as she fought the nagging fog of sleep. Her fight became more desperate the longer she watched the flakes descend, impairing her hearing enough not to notice her mother come up behind her.

Surprisingly, Rita wasn't startled when mommy placed her hands gently on the child's shoulders. "Come on, sweetheart. It's time for bed."

"I'm not tired," Rita quietly protested, a yawn snubbing her statement.

Her mother, Sophie, only chuckled, "'Not tired,' my butt."

Sophie proceeded to pick her up and bring her upstairs to her room as Rita asked, "Can you read me the story again?"

Her mother smiled. "I'll always read it to you." After tucking Rita into bed, she took a seat next to her, the little girl snuggling into her side as Sophie reached for a book on the nightstand titled

Little Red Riding Hood. She began by reciting, "Once upon a time, there was a dear little girl," and when she finished the book, she anticipated her daughter's usual questions.

"Why does the wolf want to eat Little Red Riding Hood and her grandma? Why can't he just ask for food instead of eating people? I mean, he seemed nice, so why did he turn bad?"

Sophie just smiled and said, "Well, the book is a lesson, telling little girls not to stray from their path, otherwise a big scary monster will get them!" She emphasized this by pretending to eat Rita's neck, making mock growls and munching sounds, eliciting a fit of giggles from the child.

Once she calmed down, she declared, "If I was Little Red Riding Hood, I'd tell the wolf that he doesn't have to be a bad guy."

"I'm sure you would. Our family name, Reid, actually means Red."

She gasped aloud, "Really?"

"Yes. So maybe you are Little Red Riding Hood, and if she doesn't go to sleep, the Big Bad Wolf is going to get you!" Another fit of giggles after a tickle attack, Sophie then proceeded to fix the covers around Rita, kissing atop her head. "Goodnight, sweetheart," she whispered.

"Goodnight, mommy," the child yawned, eyes slowly drifting closed.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Twelve years had gone by, Rita Reid, now seventeen years old, though her eighteenth was coming up, sat in class, trying not to fall asleep from a particular student's presentation on the significance of...whatever it was he was talking about. When the bell rang for lunch period, she raised her head, waking up again, she among many other students, grabbed her belongings, being the first to leave the class as the teacher gave them a reminder of their assignment over the weekend.

Moments later, after putting her things away in her locker, she was in the washroom, leaning on the sink after washing her hands. Emerald green eyes looked up into her reflection, showing a girl with light skin, and somewhat dark auburn hair. Right now, her hair had been let down, a layered and choppy cut barely touching her shoulders with bangs across her forehead. She went to tie up her hair in a simple ponytail as she observed her thin figure with barely any boobs to speak off. She hardly ate, thus the frail figure, and she hardly went outside other than for school and errands, so of course she was pale. The shape of her eyes almost appeared fairy-like but still teetering on normal, her nose an average in the middle shape, and her mouth seemed just as average. Her hands were small, her nails short, and her face was oval-shaped. She just appeared average, albeit a little frail-looking, but average. Still, one couldn't call her unattractive, just plain. She wore mainly fitting t-shirts and jeans, as well as a pair of her favourite black Chuck Taylor's. Still, due to her childhood fascination, she never failed to wear a red sweater/vest/coat with a hood.

School continued without any sort of incident. When classes finally ended, she started heading down the front steps only to stop short of the sidewalk the moment she saw her father in his pick-up truck. What the hell was he doing here, she wondered bitterly. He sat in the driver's seat, smiling upon seeing her. Dark messy waves were atop his head and he had brown eyes. He dressed like a typical truck driver wearing jeans, work boots, and a plaid button-up. Still, he also looked like a mess, unshaven with no beard and bags under his eyes.

"Hey, darlin'," he greeted. "I take it you just finished?"

Unimpressed, she took only a couple of steps forward. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to pick you up from school."

"Thanks, but, uh, I can walk, thanks."

She proceeded to walk away but he drove alongside her. "Hey, don't be like that. I'm trying, okay?" When she only ignored him, he prodded further. "C'mon! I'm going to the meetings like I promised!" She walked faster in an attempt to get out of earshot, but of course, he only drove faster. "Besides, your birthday is coming up."

"I'm shocked you remembered," she muttered.

"I got you a present," he insisted.

"Buying me is not going to get you on my good side."

"At least hear me out." She paused in her stride then stopped, looking at him. "C'mon, I'll give you a ride to your grandmother's. You don't have to say anything. I'm just asking you to listen," he pleaded before adding, "Please?"

She hesitated, but considered before finally deciding reluctantly to get in the truck. He gave a small triumphant smile, but upon seeing her impatient expression, his face quickly sobered with a clearing of his throat. "Well? Speak."

"I've been going to the AA meetings for a couple of months. I got myself sober and a job at a lumber company, and I get a daily test done to check my alcohol levels. I'm...getting my act together. I was hoping, if you'll let me, we could spend time together on your birthday, do whatever you want."

Rita was silent for a long time before asking, "What about your parole?"

"Oh, it's done, my parole's finished."

"And you haven't stolen anything as of late?"

"Not a damn thing. I've got a job now; I can buy what I need. Also, I'm keeping the house clean, and I'm learning to cook so I can at least feed you. I'm still pretty bad at it, but the neighbour lady, Mrs. Grayson, she says I'm getting better at it. So maybe, if you want, you can come back to live with me."

The idea sent an unpleasant jolt through her, though her face and body language betrayed nothing. Quietly, she said, "I don't think that's a good idea right now. We'll see, depending on how I feel and if you're telling the truth."

Slowly, he nodded, keeping his eyes forward. "That's fair." Soon, he pulled up in front of a cozy house with flowerbeds in the front and a swing on the porch. "About your birthday..."

"I'll think about it," she said suddenly, leaving the truck without so much as a glance at him.

"Hey, here's your present before I forget!" He reached behind the seat, pulling out a small bag.

She stared at it as he held it out. "If you remember when my birthday is, come over and give it to me then. I might then consider listening to more of what you have to say." And so, she went inside, closing the door quietly. Looking up, she spotted her grandmother, Ophelia. "Hi, grandma."

Inside, it smelled of baked bread. The elderly woman stood in the doorway of the kitchen straight down the hall from the front door. Her hair was white and curled, a small bun on the crown of her head. Just like Rita, she looked thin and frail, but her appearance was deceiving as she was as strong as ever. Her grey eyes twinkled slightly with a smile as she walked slowly towards her granddaughter. Have you ever met one of those elderly women who just seemed...cute? Yeah, she's one of those. Wearing a white blouse, tan slacks and a blue apron, one could tell she was keeping busy in the kitchen.

"You're home early today. Did you take the bus today?"

"No...Charlie drove me home."

Ophelia stopped walking, confusion written on her features. "Charlie? Did he force you to-?"

"No, it was of my free will." Placing down her schoolbag, she asked, "Do you need any help?"

Ophelia just smiled, waving off the offer. "Don't you worry, I'm doing just fine. Just making loafs and buns." She blanked for a moment before saying suddenly, "Oh, I made you a snack if you're hungry. I'll be starting dinner soon."

"Okay, but how about I make dinner tonight. You sound like you've been working hard all day," Rita offered conversationally as she walked into the kitchen with her nana. "What do you feel like?"

Her grandmother thought it over. "How about soup in a bread bowl?"

Rita smiled softly. "Hearty soup then?"

"Oh, but of course."

A meal and math homework later, Rita sat at her desk in her room, typing on her laptop for her Language Studies assignment. Resting her head on a fist, she stared blankly at the screen before her eyes glanced over to a framed photo of Sophie and a younger Rita. Next to the photo was woven doll made to look like Red Riding Hood, around her neck was a silver bracelet with a variety of charms on it. Her mother's, she thought solemnly. Now it belonged to her after her mother's death.

She heard a quiet knock on her door before Ophelia came in. "I just came to check on you."

Rita only smiled. "I'm fine, grandma."

The old woman only nodded. "What did my no-good son-in-law say to you?"

Rita sighed as Ophelia sat on the bed before explaining the whole conversation. "I decided to let him come over on my birthday...if he remembers."

The old woman had a critical expression. Sighing, she said, "Well, it's up to you. I never liked him the moment I met him, but either way, he's your father, and it does seem like he's turning himself around, at least for your sake." She sighed again. "I just don't want you to get hurt again. It's his fault that..."

"I know," Rita said. "Still, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now."

Ophelia nodded. "Well, I'm going to watch some Wheel of Fortune. Let me know if you need anything."

"I will."

Oddly enough, her birthday was probably one of the best days of the year. It was in the fall, her favourite season, and it was neither too cold nor too warm. The colours of the leaves were always dazzling this time of year. Despite this, Rita was anxious about her father coming over; at least it was Friday. Getting up for school, she headed downstairs, only to be greeted by the smell of raspberry waffles. Walking into the kitchen, she spotted a small fancy little breakfast, a plate of waffles with whipped cream and chopped strawberries on top. On the side was a glass of orange juice and a couple slices of toast with cheese whiz.

Her grandmother turned to her with a bright smile on her face. "Good morning! And how's the birthday girl this morning?"

Rita scoffed, unable to help the smile. "Oh grandma, you didn't have to fix me the fancy breakfast."

Ophelia only walked over to give her a tight hug. "Oh, pish posh. It's your birthday! I think you of all people deserve a good breakfast. I also made your lunch today. You need more food in you, child."

"I'm eighteen now, I'm a grown woman."

The elder only laughed heartily, "Of course you are. How could I forget? Also, when are you going to find a nice boy?"

Rita's eyebrows rose at the question. "It's not like I haven't been dating. Why does this matter all of a sudden?"

"I just thought it would be nice if you had a boyfriend to spoil you on your birthday."

A laugh bubbled out of Rita. Of course, she thought. Sitting down, she said, "I just haven't found anybody to call my own yet, that's all. There's always a chance at college."

"As long as your keep your virginity till marriage." Rita nearly choked on her orange juice. "I know you think I'm a little old fashioned in that area but I think the marriage will mean more if you wait till your wedding night to lose your virginity."

"What if the sex is a letdown?" Rita asked with mock interest. "Marriage will suck then."

"Marriage isn't about sex, it's about love."

"Tell that to those with arranged marriages."

It took a moment before Ophelia responded with, "Every culture is different." Rita could only shrug with mild agreement. "One day, you'll find the one who you will share the rest of your life with."

"You're making it sound like I'll know the moment I see them."

"You don't believe in love at first sight?"

Rita snorted, "No."

Ophelia gaped at her. "Rita Reid, I'm ashamed of you for that!"

"Okay, okay, I believe in lustat first sight. That's the extent I will believe in."

"What about Romeo and Juliet?"

"Stupid teens with hormones."

"Cinderella?"

"Horny prince wanting a piece of ass of the only decent looking girl in the room. Either that or the fairy godmother simply made her irresistible."

"Oh, you're too much. One day, you'll see!"

Robin only munched on her breakfast in silence. Love at first sight? She doubt she would ever experience such a thing. It was far too unrealistic and pipe-dreamy to ever hope to experience. Still, if she ever wanted a particular man, he would have to be reliable and honest, unlike her father. Thoughts reverting back to him, her stomach had that anxious feeling again. Maybe she wasn't ready for him to be her father again. It was like she was already anticipating him screwing up.

Not wanting to be late for school, she ran upstairs to get showered and dressed. Deciding to be bold, she left her hair down, straightening it. Now wearing an over the shoulder black sweater that reached mid thighs, black nylons and a black jean skirt, she grabbed a red hooded vest before grabbing her bag and such. Staring at the bracelet again, she considered that she wanted her mother to be with her. She then unlatched and placed it around her wrist, the sound of tiny jingles ringing softly.

Making it to school ten minutes before the bell, she went to her locker, grabbing her books for her morning classes. She gasped with shock when she was startled out of her thoughts by her best friend from kindergarten. "Good morning!" Rita glared slightly at Wendy Boyd. The girl only shrunk in apology. "Sorry."

Wendy was what one would call a typical bookworm. She had long banana cream blonde hair that waved slightly on the ends, bangs framing her cute little round face. Behind her rectangular black-rimmed glasses were russet-brown coloured eyes. She was shorter than Rita by a couple of inches, and Rita was only five-six. She wore a white t-shirt and a denim blue cardigan, as well as a long denim skirt and pair of brown suede knee-high boots. In her arms, she was carrying what Rita could only guess was Wendy's homework...and extra-credit work, as well as a flashy little gift bag with blue tissue paper stick out.

"It's alright. I was just deep in thought. Don't your arms ever get tired carrying all that stuff?"

Wendy shook her head. "Not really. I'm used to it. Oh," she said, struggling to shift her armful as she held up the gift bag, "happy eighteenth birthday!"

Rita scoffed, smiling with amusement, taking the gift bag, if only to lessen Wendy's luggage. "Thanks. How about I help you with some of that before you drop it?"

After they got to their first class, Wendy poked Rita's side. "Well? Open it!"

Rita rubbed her side, sitting down. "I can open it when I get home. Knowing my grandmother, she'll have a whole pile of gifts waiting for me in the living room."

"Please?" Wendy begged, producing a puppy face.

The brunette could only laugh. "Okay, fine. Sheesh."

Removing the top layer of tissue paper, she pulled out a hardcover dark brown leather notebook with a gold lockable latch and gold key with the end shaped like an intricate crescent moon, and a single round ruby embedded in it. Another crescent moon shape was stamped into the cover of the book. When she unlocked it, there was a red ribbon attached to serve as a bookmark and gold lettering on the inner cover reading, 'This notebook belongs to Rita Reid.' Rita smiled as she looked it over, and saw there was a small box inside the bag still. Pulling it out, she discovered it was a metallic red and gold fountain pen, her name engraved on the side in gold. One thing to mention was that Wendy's parents owned a fancy little book store where you could have custom notebooks and diaries, as well as buy old literature. Most of the literature-inclined and elderly loved this shop.

Rita turned to Wendy, shocked at the brilliance of the present. "My god, Wendy, this must have cost a lot."

Wendy shrugged, smiling. "My parents like you, and we all knew you were going to become an author, so I thought you could use something to write stuff in. Pen is refillable, by the way."

"What kind of paper is this?"

"I don't know, actually. I just thought the sepia tone gave it a nice aged look, and it's thick enough for writing on both sides of the page."

Rita smiled softly, almost petting the book. "Thank you, Wendy. I really love this."

"You're welcome. Have any thoughts on what you're going to write in it?"

Rita thought for a moment, but shook her head. "It's a really nice book, and I just want to save it for the best stuff." She turned to her friend. "Today's the day."

"For what?" Wendy asked, but when Rita only stared, realization hit. "Oh yeah, your dad."

"I don't know what I'm going to say if he comes over."

"You'll think of something."

Rita nodded, but she wasn't sure if she could. Just then, the self-proclaimed popularity queen walked in, followed by her sycophantic minions, walked in then sat down. The girl's face was caked with so much cover up and other forms of make-up, Rita was surprised she never broke out in acne. She had dark brown hair and wore clothes that were of high brands and glamour. Rita was always disgusted by her snotty attitude and her need to show as much cleavage as possible. Being proud of your body was one thing, it was entirely another to be showing it off as a way to tell people you believe yourself above them.

Queen Bitch, also known as Sarina Batela, turned her attention to Wendy. "Hey, Boyd, I was hoping you could let me copy your notes from yesterday's class," she asked entirely too sweetly.

Wendy just stared for a moment. "I think you should start writing down your own notes. I'm not responsible for your grades. You won't learn anything copying from me."

"Oh, sweetie, this will be the last time, I swear. My pen didn't work yesterday." Rita snorted with disdain and disbelief, catching Sarina's attention. "What's the matter with you?"

Quietly, Rita just rested her hands on top of the table in front of her, preparing for something inevitable. "She said no, Sarina. You're going to have to ask someone else."

"Well, nobody asked you."

"Well, I'm telling you. Back off." Rita warned her off with a glare as the classmates that were still coming into class watched the tension build between the two.

Sarina licked her lips as if she was deciding how to go about this. Despite her appearance, she was actually really smart, only had too much of a misplaced ego. "Or else what? You'll tell on me?"

"No," said Rita, "I don't go crying to people like you, princess."

That ignited a flare in Sarina's brown eyes. "Isn't that because you have no one to go crying to?"

A dagger went straight into her heart. Of course, everyone in town knew of Rita Reid's sorrowful past. Frankly, Rita always thought it was nobody's business, especially not Sarina's. Wendy saw the murder in Rita's eyes and sought to remedy the situation before her friend blew up. If there was anyone who could match Sarina's temper, it was Rita, and those furious clashes always ended with both of them bleeding. They had been enemies since they met, and Rita was never one to back down.

"Class is about to start, so may I suggest we come to a truce before either of you end up in detention?"

Sarina leaned back in her seat, sighing as if she was bored. "You're right, Boyd. I suppose Reid and I can reserve this for later."

This was not the answer Wendy hoped for. Sarina wanted to draw blood and Rita obviously wanted a fight. Her only hope to stop them was to stop her friend, but as she turned to her, Rita said, "No. I have other plans. Besides, you're not worth my time."

Though it obviously pissed off Sarina, she said nothing when the teacher walked in. Wendy turned to whisper to Rita, "I almost thought you were going to accept."

"I almost did," Rita admitted. After all, she would have been no better than Sarina.

The pile of presents that Rita had expected was not in the living room when she and Wendy walked through the front door. Instead, they were blocking her way to her bedroom upstairs on the stair steps, wrapped up with holographic paper and thin ribbons. Rita shook her head at the lengths her grandmother went to. The house also smelled of sugar.

"Grandma?" Rita yelled out. "I'm home!"

The answer came from upstairs. "I'll be down in a minute!"

"Wendy's here too! We're going to do our homework in the living room since you blockedme from my room!"

Ophelia came out, smiling. "Hello Wendy."

"Hello Mrs. Reid."

"You girls help yourselves to the snack in the fridge. You're staying over tonight, dear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Isn't that lovely? Where do you want to go for dinner, Rita?"

Rita shrugged. "I'm happy eating here."

Ophelia chuckled. "Not today my dear. Restaurant of your choice."

Rita gnawed on her thumbnail in thought, turning to Wendy for any suggestions. "Don't look at me! It's yourbirthday."

"I guess I wouldn't mind going to that steakhouse. It's close by and pretty cheap. I heard their food is pretty good."

"They also got a buffet, right?" Wendy enquired.

Rita nodded. "Let's get our homework done then we'll go."

Homework done, stomachs filled with good food, and a nice cool breeze and beautiful sunset, the three of them walked home, chatting away. Rita and Wendy were supporting Ophelia despite her protests that she wasn't that old yet. They were laughing but Rita was the first to stop as her eyes veered towards the porch of their house, seeing Charlie sitting on the porch steps. Noticing Rita's strange silence, Wendy and Ophelia followed her gaze. Charlie raised his head and stood up upon seeing his daughter.

"Hey sweetheart. Happy birthday!" he declared with an awkward smile, but it faltered slightly.

Ophelia turned to Wendy, whispering, "Let's leave these two alone for a few minutes." Wendy nodded. She then turned to Rita, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder. "We'll be inside if you need us." Walking to the house with Wendy, she stopped briefly to stare at her son-in-law. "Charlie."

"Ophelia."

"You may be turned around now, but if you hurt Rita ever again, I'll be the first person you'll be hearing from."

"I understand."

"You better hope you do," Ophelia warned, going inside soon after, leaving father and daughter alone outside.

Charlie stood, unable to conjure what to say. All Rita could think of was, "You came after all."

He nodded. "Of course I did. You're my daughter." He swallowed. "I, uh, brought your present." Cautiously, he walked over, as if any sudden move would scare Rita off. He held up the gift bag.

Taking it gingerly, Rita brought the bag to her chest. Though she knew what to do next, she felt awkward doing so, removing the tissue paper and pulling out a flat and wrapped object. Removing the colourful paper, she unveiled a book, but it looked extremely old. The grungy brown hardcover had no title on it and nothing on its spine either. It was at least an inch thick, and there was a leaf stamped into its cover. The design looked intricate, almost like it would belong to some fantasy genre. Opening it, the pages were blank. Odd, why would this book be blank? A forgotten notebook?

"Um," was all Rita said.

"I know it isn't much, but I thought you'd like a book to write in." Rita briefly wondered if everyone got the same idea before she spotted a barely visible message on the inner cover. Charlie spoke up once more. "Um, can we have lunch tomorrow? I'd really like to at least spoil you properly, since you must have already eaten."

Rita looked up. "Okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Just show up before 12. Thanks for the present."

He nodded. "You're welcome. Happy birthday again." She nodded and went to go inside before he spoke up again, stopping on the steps. "I amsorry. I know you could never forgive me for what happened, but I hope you can at least allow me to make an attempt to atone for what I did."

Rita swallowed hard before turning to face him. Her eyes burned a little from being overwhelmed with bottled up emotions before she walked up to him and hugged him, burying her face in his chest. Who was she kidding? She missed her father, even if she was mad at him. He held her tight, kissing atop her head.

She pulled away after a moment, muttering, "You get one more chance. If you screw up again, don't ever hope to see or talk to me." He nodded.

"Are you okay?" Wendy asked while sitting on the bed, now wearing flannel pyjamas.

Rita sat at her desk, staring into space. "Yeah, I'll live. It's just a lot to deal with."

"I can't believe he got you a blank book."

"It might not be blank."

"What?"

"Come here. It's impossible that it would just be blank. Book's too old to be empty. See this faded print here?" Rita asked, pointing to a nearly invisible script as Wendy stood beside her. "I can just barely make out the words. 'Spill a drop of what once was blue, and I will reveal the words to you.' What does that mean?"

Wendy clapped her hands excitedly. "Ooh, a riddle! Maybe it's one of those magic books. You know, the kind with invisible ink on the pages."

Rita rolled her eyes. "That's hardly magic. If it is invisible ink, all we need is heat, right?" Wendy nodded. "Go get my hairdryer; it's in the bathroom, left drawer." Her friend ran off, still excited as Rita looked at the pages, muttering, "Magic doesn't exist."

Wendy ran back in, looking for a plug. Succeeding, they heated the first five pages to see if anything came up. Nothing. Wendy's shoulders slumped. "Well, there's no invisible ink."

Rita sighed. "What's 'once was blue?'"

"Blood," Wendy replied simply.

"What?"

"Blood is actually blue until it hits oxygen and turns red."

"It's asking me to bleed on it?" Rita asked sceptically. "That's the dumbest thing I ever heard of."

"It's the only logical answer I can think of."

"Well, whatever, I'm not bleeding on it." Wendy shrugged. "Let's get some sleep."

The next day, Charlie had come to pick up Rita for lunch and now they were sitting in a diner munching on fries and burgers. Rita sipped at her milkshake quietly while Charlie watched her anxiously, chewing a recent bite of burger. He spotted the charm bracelet and smiled sadly.

Deciding to be the first to speak, to break the ice, he said, "So, you still want to be an author?"

She nodded her head. "Yeah."

"You going to college?

"Yeah."

"Which one?"

A pause. "I haven't decided yet. I just know what kind of course I'll be taking." Charlie nodded, and there was more silence. Now it was Rita's turn. "How's work?"

"Good. Good," he repeated quietly. "Keeps me busy. It's a good job." She nodded. Again, more silence. "How was your birthday?"

"Good. Got a lot of clothes."

"Clothes are good. Any..." he nearly choked on the next word, "boyfriends?"

The fact that he was uncomfortable with the idea of her dating amused and touched her. "Not at the moment. I've had a few, but none of them did it for me. Grandma is kind of eager about me finding a nice boy."

"I see," Charlie said thoughtfully. "Personally, I think you're better off without them hormonal boys. Every boy and man thinks about one thing and one thing only, sex."

Rita just scoffed. "I don't think it's limited to just males. I can make of list of girls at my school who've lost their virginity by the time they were sixteen."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Is your..." he choked again, "virginity intact?"

"For the moment," she said bluntly, munching on a fry while she watched her father's expression with fascination.

He seemed to relax. "Has your grandmother told you about...?"

"Sex? She didn't need to. I've had sex education every year of high school during health class." She ate another fry. "I'm well aware of birth control and the dangers of STD's. Don't get a heart attack over it."

"I'm trying not to," he managed. Silence ensued once more as his eyes landed on the bracelet again. "I miss your mother...every day." Rita paused. "I can imagine how you feel."

Rita bit back a comment that had no place here. "Yeah."

"I visit her grave every week."

"I don't," she admitted quietly. "I only visit once a year. I tried to move on with my life."

"It's hard, I know. You're stronger than I am."

"People only believe themselves weak. It's in their nature to feel helpless." She lowered her head. "It still doesn't excuse you for what happened. You made a choice to be weak."

"I know..."

"No, you don't!" she cried out. "You don't know! If you knew, mom would be alive and I would have never been in a cast!"

"Rita—!"

She shook her head, exhaling as the emotions built up quickly. "Please try to understand. I will always blame you for it! You made the choice! I've made mine to never forgive you! I've only just decided to trust you again because you decided to actually make an effort. That's all." She panted slightly after she went silent, ignoring the stares from other patrons. Charlie stared sadly at her and suddenly her appetite was gone. Getting up, she croaked, "I'm sorry."

"No, you're right. I deserve every bit of scorn you throw at me. Sophie would be alive if it wasn't for me." Rita watched as Charlie was close to breaking down from the realization. "And because I drank, you ended up with a broken arm. God, Rita, I'm so sorry."

Rita's eyes welled up as she stared at him. "I...I'm going home. I'll see you later."

Her mouth was dry, her eyes stung, her stomach felt nauseated, and her breath was short. By the time she was aware of her surroundings, she was already at home in her room. Ophelia was out shopping for groceries, and Wendy had gone home after breakfast. Completely alone, Rita fell onto her bed, the bracelet jingling slightly. What the hell was wrong with her? Despite everything, her father didn't deserve that. The anger and pain was just so sudden, she didn't have time to stop it. Who the hell was she trying to fool? She chose to let loose. She hadn't realized that there was still some anger bottled up. Swallowing hard, she wiped at her eyes and stood up, walking over to her desk, sitting down again. Green eyes lingered on the book. Grabbing the one Wendy gave her, she opened it and was about to write something in it, but stopped. This was a gift from her best friend. It didn't seem right to write things that upset her in it.

Sighing, she closed it back up and dragged the bigger book close to her, opening to the first page. She flipped page after page, scrutinizing the blank paper to see any evidence of writings. A quick flip followed by a painful but swift slice tore at her right index finger. Hissing in shock, she stared at the paper cut. Jesus, how deep did it go in? Finger now bleeding, she went to the first page again, accidentally spilling a drop of blood on the page as she read the riddle again. Cursing at herself, she sucked on her bleeding finger and reached for some Kleenex, hoping she could clean it up before it stained it too much.

Peering at where the blood had spilled, she blinked with confusion, finding the splatter gone. Her eyes darted back and forth, blinking a few more times, thinking she was just seeing things. Blood gone, red letters began to form on the page, startling her out of her seat, nearly stumbling to the floor.

"I'm losing my mind. That did not just happen. Or maybe it did, and it's just a book made to look old and the paper has technological properties." No matter how she tried to rationalize the event, it looked more like magic than science. "Okay, I'm just seeing things." Stepping closer, she watched the page animate words into appearance. "Oh god, words are appearing." Swallowing hard for the umpteenth time that day, she began to recite the words, "The Tale of Little Red Riding Hood. Once upon a time, a magical red cloak was woven from velvety threads of elven hair, dyed in dragon's blood." She sat down, curiosity bringing her to read further in her head.

"This cloak had a young girl's destiny etched into the fabric, choosing her to be its fated wearer when darkness came to claim the world. Only she who has been chosen by the cloak would be allowed to invoke its magic, a magic so powerful that evil seeks it out and its wearer. If one with evil in their heart claims this power, darkness will reign forever and death will consume everything." When she finished reading the first page, a new line appeared before her, confusing her completely.

Only a child born to Red can wear the cloak.

She flipped to the next page, finding nothing new coming up. Smearing a little blood on the next page, the paper absorbing it again, it still said nothing. "Oh screw you! What happens next?" Sighing, she sat back in the chair, thinking she had finally gone insane. "I'm talking to a magic book. "Only a child born to Redcan wear the cloak. What does that mean?"

Sitting in silence, it eventually hit her, but she didn't want to make any assumptions. Anxious, she grabbed her new fountain pen, thinking perhaps if she wrote in the book, it would respond somehow. Who is Little Red Riding Hood?

It was quick to reply, much to her shock. Are you certain you wish to know, Lady Reid?

Hands shaking, she replied without needing to write, "Yes."

The only thing that changed was that Lady Reid shifted to Little Red.

"Oh hell." She got up, pacing around the room, chanting, "I'm dreaming. It's a damn lie!" As she paced, the page casually flipped itself, more words appearing on the other side. Noticing this, she slowly approached the book. "Only a child born to Red can wear the cloak. Will you accept the destiny you chose?" She hesitated.

Barely recalling something she had said as a child, she knew why the book had worded it that way. Perhaps she fell asleep when she came home and this was all an elaborate dream brought on by her distraught and confusion. Reid means red, she recalled her mother saying once, and once upon a time, she believed herself to be Little Red Riding Hood, but she was a typical kid with an imagination. If this wasn't a dream, she'd be making a very big mistake. Still, it was her choice.

Something beckoned her to raise the pen to the paper as she wrote, "Yes."

Suddenly, the words faded as quickly as they appeared. Ink blots began to fade into existence and drip out of the pages, an overflowing blackness that had a life of its own. As it moved towards her, she backed away, climbing onto her bed to avoid the black river messing up her carpet. Regardless, it climbed up the furniture and over the sheets. Panicking, she jumped off the bed onto clear rug and went to open her door to escape, but it would not budge.

"Oh god! No, this isn't happening!"

She pulled on the doorknob as hard as she could, only to lose her grip and fall into the animate puddle. More alive than ever, ink quickly smothered her as she struggled and shrieked, and all she knew was that she was drowning in blackness. Oddly enough, she had a song echoing in her mind before it went completely blank.

A/N: First chapter up for a story I've always been fascinated with but I actually never read until recently. Saw the movie with Amanda Seyfried about a year ago though. This story has the same concept as my older and longest running fanfiction FFVII: Rhapsody of Chaos. I'm still not ditching any stories currently in the making. In fact, I'm currently in the middle of writing the next chapter for House Arrest. I apologize for my delay loyal readers, lost my motivation for awhile, and my computer stopped working (I also lost all my files). I have to share my mom's and I only get the computer when she's asleep and I'm home to use it.

I will be working on four stories at the same time. First, I will be writing the next chapter for House Arrest, then FFVII: RoC, and THEN, I will be working on the first chapter for a DarkWing Duck story, starring NegaDuck. That's right! NEGADUCK, YOU KNOBS. I'm kidding, I love you guys. So look forward to that when I get to it. I have my two stories' next chapters planned out, and the NegaDuck story is still in the planning stages. I'll rotate between all four stories as I continue to write.

I appreciate all reviews, and thanks for reading.