No two people see color exactly the same.
Her hair is red.
Her mother loves her hair. It's because it comes from her father. When they sit together close on the piano bench, their heads blend and you can't tell where one starts and the other ends.
When she was little, her father and mother would sit in bed with her and take turns brushing out the curls. If her father was doing so, her mother would run her fingers through them anyway, picking up individual locks and letting them slide across her palm before dropping back into place with a bounce. Jacob told her he could never lose her with that hair.
It was always long, growing until it no longer became manageable, and her aunt unwillingly trimmed it.
When she was "fifteen," it was past her butt. She began to hate it. She sat on it in her desk chair. It got caught in doors and snagged on branches. Every girl she talked to brought it up eventually, gazing at it with envy. She caught a few boys staring at it with a hungry trance on their face that made her shift in her seat.
When she thinks of Jacob, her cheeks turn red.
She loves his skin. The muscle underneath it is tough and strong, but the surface is soft as satin. Her Jacob has both beauty and power. She adores it.
When he is next to her family, your eyes go straight to him. His face is just as beautiful but different. She likes how he stands apart from them. She knows that a terrible truth about her is that this is one of the reasons why she loves him the most.
She wishes her alabaster complexion was different. She wishes that she looked like him or Leah or Rachel, older and darker and Quileute. She could hold hands with him and would complement each other instead of his beauty overshadowing her plainness. But her life would be very different if she could look like that.
Her lips are red.
She studies her face in the mirror after she puts on Rose's lipstick for the first time. She looks mature, as if her pink lips have ripened into the womanly crimson. It is a pleasant contrast with her pale face. She shifts all of her curls on the right side of her face and smiles, feeling beautiful for the first time. Not cute or content but beautiful.
She feels very generous towards the reflection in the mirror. Her skin is not pasty; it's porcelain. The two brown eyes have an allure and don't look so plain anymore. She imagines her awkward body wearing a long red dress, shimmering every time she moved, making every eye move to her. A kind of spotlight she would thrive in rather than shy away from.
She wonders what would happen if she left her bathroom. If he would finally see her as more than the little girl if her bubblegum lips were this color. Possibilities of yes and no both frightened her. She wipes it off with a tissue and doesn't wear it again.
Her yellow skirt is red now.
She cries that night, wallowing in mortification. She prays that no one has noticed. She prays Jacob had not noticed. She once dreamed of womanhood, but this embarrassment makes her want to return it.
She doesn't leave her room the next day. Her mother comes in and strokes her hair. Although she has so recently renounced her womanhood, her blood boils at how her mother treats her like a child.
Roses are red and so is her face the first time a boy kisses her.
He bought her the flower on Valentine's Day and asked her if he could kiss her that afternoon. He was funny and kind and her second best friend. If there was no magic in her world, he might be her first. This kiss wouldn't feel like a lie. She likes the act of kissing, but she still wishes it was from somebody else.
Jacob doesn't want to kiss her. She might never get that from him.
She puts her hand on James' cheek and kisses the boy who is right in front of her one more time.
Her blood is red, scarlet to be exact.
It is hot under the skin and rushing to her face. The red pours out of her cruel mouth and is clouding the fringe of her vision.
She is so angry. With her boyfriend, her friends and her family. Even with Jacob. But she feels it directed mostly towards her parents.
Her voice is shrill, and she can't remember many of the terrible things she said. She just knows most of them weren't true.
She hears her parents whispering through the wall as she lies in her room. As the sky goes from red to purple to black, they slip out of the house.
They told him to stay away, but he sneaks in and asks if she's okay. There is no blame or disgust in his eyes. She shakes her head and makes him stay with her. He holds her, and she doesn't know if it is brotherly or platonic or romantic. She decides not to label it beyond intimate and enjoy his presence. It won't be there forever.
She apologizes to her parents and forgives them for whatever reason she had for being so angry. She also forgives Jacob silently and for even more muddled reasons.
Her head has less red than before.
It is summer and she is itchy, irritated, and restless. She wears less clothing than her father finds proper and glares at him if he makes a comment.
James is gone now. She misses his jokes and reliable presence but has no desire in attempting a relationship with him while he is playing soccer in North Carolina. She's happy for him though and sends him emails biweekly.
Jacob is with her more than ever. She's noticed him to be sunnier than ever, and they are even more inseparable than when she was little. She begs him to take her to the beach. They go to concerts in the city or just laze around in their favorite spots in the forest. She tells him everything, and for the first time, he does the same. She feels like his equal.
While things get much better with him, they get worse with her family. She wants to leave this gilded cage called Forks. Her parents are offended by the idea. She wants to leave the nest and does not care if she breaks a wing if it means getting away.
She explodes that summer, every emotion she has pouring into art. She sculpts, sketches, and paints until she feels utterly exhausted but more alive than ever in the early morning.
Jacob understands. He simply nods when she gets random ideas and needs to get some paint right this minute. He shows her how to carve animals out of wood and make bracelets like he does on her birthday. She decorates her arms with the ones they make together.
Her parents are less supportive. They smile and praise her when she shows them something new, but it might as well be finger painting. For a mind reader, her father can't (or pretends not to) see her outpouring of herself in her work. When she talks about studying art abroad, they balk and shake their heads. When her mother hugs her, she squirms out of it.
She has a nightmare where she's trying to run away, but her hair has been tied to the headboard of her bed. She has become Rapunzel, locked away in a tower. The next morning, she asks Rosalie to cut her hair, much more than a trim. She looks horrified and refuses. Bella comes in, visibly upset. Her father gets angry.
She tells them she'll go into town and get it cut or do it herself. Finally Alice agrees to do so to keep the hair away from the hands of a common salon. She snips away long locks on to the floor of her closet. The entire family looks on as if it's a sporting event. Jacob smirks. Rose scowls. Mom cringes. Dad huffs.
She loves it. She isn't so hot anymore. Her head feels lighter. She experiments with dyes, highlighting and shifting and killing the red. Jacob laughs as her hair changes every other day. She likes making him laugh and she likes feeling playful and terribly, she likes her mother's unhappiness.
For the first time, she can look at her reflection and smile.
Her backpack is red
It sticks out on a baggage carousel.
Her family is leaving here soon. They've moved before, spending brief times in other places, so the humans will forget how young they remain to be. This time is different. They are not coming back
And she is not coming with them.
Her family, including her parents, are moving north to Canada. She however is going to art school in Rhode Island.
She waits at the bus stop and as it pulls up, he comes running towards her, backpack on his shoulder. Like he'd let his best friend go alone. Besides, he's always wanted to see Rhode Island.
Red is her state of being.
Every time he comes into the room, it is the only way to describe the thrill and desire running through her blood.
He followed her here to be with her. She doesn't have to do any more childish pining. She is certain he loves her.
One night her roommate is out, and it's her and Jacob alone in her dorm. She brought a movie, but they paused it to eat and kept talking long after.
They are dancing around the big red elephant in the room. Not for long. He's laughing and smiling and she's absolutely sure she is in love with him. When his chuckling ends she moves forward and kisses him.
He returns it, and she feels red all over. It starts at her lips and courses through her body to the roots of her hair and down to her painted toenails. It is permanent and forever. Jacob and Renesmee live in the world of red.
Story is mine. Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Cover art is Tranquillité and sole property of Edgardo Rivera. He has a weebly account, and his URL is .com