Her hair was red. As a child, he'd marveled at her cherry red locks. The beautiful scarlet waterfall which had brought so much life into their otherwise dreary world of work and pain, like the very blood that kept him alive. She was the only thing that made it all worth it.
Now he knew better.
Red was the color of life fleeing. Red was blood as it ebbed away, taking one's life away with it. Here she was, the cause of his pain, his lost blood. Standing in the way of his dreams. Her and her beautiful red hair.