Author's Note: So did you know that they make this non-dairy chocolate frozen dessert made from coconut milk that I can ACTUALLY EAT? And it like, actually tastes good? Wow! #TheMoreYouKnow

I already told you that there's a twist on things! Meet the youngest Cavanaugh ;) -

Day Five: Red by Taylor Swift

I always knew I came from a weird family.

I mean, my parents are weird, and they have the weirdest story ever about how they got together, which I don't even like talking about, since…you know…they're my parents. That's gross.

But anyway, I still have to hear it, because whenever my Aunt Aria and Aunt Hanna come over they start gossiping and all they can talk about are their relationships. Thank God Aunt Emily isn't like them in those regards.

So due to those three chatterboxes (my mom and Aunt Aria and Aunt Hanna), I've been blessed with knowing all the gory details about my parents' relationship. Like, way more than I ever wanted to know.

And one word about the relationship stuck out above them all.

Red.

It was the color of passion. It was the color of roses. It was the color of wine. It was the color of blood. It was the color of love. It was the color of hate. It was the color of evil. And somehow, it also represented something innocent, chaste, and pure, only to be tinged by the impurities of this world.

Well, apparently, that's what my parents' relationship was like.

Passion, poison, roses, wine, blood, love, hate, evil, and purity, tainted by the bane of our existence: knowledge.

For a really long time, all the way back to when I was little, I always wondered what it would be like to experience something as reckless and free as everyone describes love. I guess it's the one thing in this God-forsaken society that has no limits, or boundaries, or judgment.

No judgment. That's what people love the most, I think. It's dumb; it's deaf; it's blind; it knows no color; it knows no gender; it just is.

And of course, from a really early age, my aunts always just told me about the prime example of this: my own parents. Apparently, they were like a living movie cliché, picked right from the depths of Nicholas Sparks' notebooks. Things happened, unexpectedly, quickly, devastatingly tragically. I have to admit that even as I hear this story now, it sounds like something Mr. Sappy Romance Novel penned himself.

I'm going to tell the story like I remember hearing, so it might not all be right, but I think this is basically what happened.

Back when my parents were actually young (so, like my age), they completely hated each other. I don't mean hate like avoiding someone in the hallways because you don't like looking at their face; I mean, they absolutely hated each other, with a burning, mind-consuming passion.

It kind of spawned because of some bitch my mom was once friends with. Even describing her now, I have no idea how my aunts and her could've even tolerated that chick. She was evil. Anyway, this girl died or whatever, and everyone thought my dad killed her.

My dad. The same guy who has troubles with killing a spider. It was just last week that I had to come into the kitchen to get rid of a spider that was staring him down because he thought it was inhumane to kill it.

Anyway, after my mom realized she was being stupid, she finally warmed up to him. And one thing led to another and suddenly, they were being all obnoxiously cute like those kids who decide to have a love-fest right in front of my locker. Actually, I'm sure that I would tolerate my parents being lovey-dovey a lot more than those kids since they weren't so gross about PDA.

But then, suddenly, my Aunt Hanna told me that someone had to screw it all up. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but they broke up for a while. They lost it, and suddenly, stuff seemed kind of gray and dull, like fall turning into winter. Things kind of turned blue for a while for my mother. Things were just sad and she missed him more than you could imagine.

But things got all happy again when they got back together, and things were looking better. They were better than ever. My mom fell harder (if possible), as did my dad.

They got so serious that I'm pretty sure you don't even have to guess what I'm trying to insinuate happened next. Yeah. That. I don't even want to think about my parents doing that.

But suddenly, it was like all my mom ever wanted. You see, my grandparents are not exactly the most loving people ever, so this was really the first time she really felt that sensation of loving and being loved. It meant just knowing everything about each other, like it was no big deal, and loving even the things you can't stand about the other person.

And just when everyone thought they were in the clear, something horrible happened. Apparently, my dad betrayed her in the worst possible way. I'm not sure if my mom caught him screwing around with some other girl or doing something really horrible or what, but it was bad. My mom was depressed.

This was gray. It was the hardest time, even harder than losing that bitch of a friend. It was like…she didn't know how to feel. She was too alone. She had already felt the sensation of love, and now she had to deal with heartbreak. It was so strong, he felt she could die.

Through the heartbreak and the bitterness, she still felt him all around. She remembered everything, no matter how hard she tried to forget and let go of him.

And why couldn't she do it? Because loving him was that same poison and passion and hatred and heartbreak known as love, known as red. No matter how toxic and noxious their fights were; no matter how frustrating, intolerable, and insufferable they could be at times; no matter how many wrongs one did to the other, it was red. They were in love.

And that's what I always saw it as: red, red, red. The color of passion, of hate, of poison, of devotion, of innocence mixed with the evil known as knowledge. This was love. It was tainted and horrible, but it was sweet and everlasting.

And honestly, I don't think I can ever see it in any other way.

Shorter, I know, but cut me some slack! This is a lot of work!

NewEnglandMuggleGirl: Thank you, thank you, but please, no, no, no, a thousand times NO. With as much respect as I can muster, I won't do a One Direction song. Sorry.

eveningshades1107: How did you come up with that figure? Interesting. I hope you liked this one!

AL3110: Pssht...don't talk to me. Congrats, you've offended the Kayson.

So up next: Singin' My Soul by Gin Wigmore. I should warn you that the next one is really sad and it was really hard for me to write. You should also check Gin Wigmore out if you get the chance! She's awesome. -Kayson