Hate: The Memory of Red

by Kumoru Hayabusa

Why? Why did he do it? In a moment of dissapointment, he had done something that could never be undone, and now he thinks of nothing but negative, horrible thoughts. GrellxMadam Red Really short.

Hate

Red, the color of passion, the color of love, the color of rage, the color of hate, the color of blood, dripping slowly from the mouth of the woman he once loved. The only woman he had ever loved lay dead, murdered by his own hands. Madam Red, now nothing but a memory, shredded sickeningly by his weapon, her beautiful dress ripped open, leaving her bare-chested, degraded by her own lover.

This beautiful color now filled every part of his being, creating a madder self within him than ever before. Anger at himself for ever speaking to her, anger at him ever loving her, anger at killing the only thing he cared for. Her red blood would forever stain his already tainted fingertips, making him truly an evil thing, indeed.

He stood there now in the pouring rain at the foot of her body, watching this radiant red slowly wash away, and yet, he still saw it. The look of shock and despair as the chainsaw stabbed into her chest, penetrating her heart and almost instantly killing her. The redness would always be there, forever in his mind, pouring out and splattering onto his already blood filled face, making it sticky, yet slick, and for the first time in his immortal life, he thought a though most horrible.

'I hate the color red.'

END