I don't like red. You know that. I told you.
It's signifies danger and love - perhaps two side of the same coin. And Cupid flies around with a bow and arrow - enough said, methinks.
Red sends a shiver down my spine like a million ants using the vertebra for their Parkour party. I've always been the same. It's not so much like holding a red rag to a bull - it's more like holding a red rag to a vomit bucket, as that's where I might end up.
Yes. It can actually make me physically sick. I told you, don't you remember? So why did you leave that red shoe at the top of the stairs? See what you've done?
Do you SEE what you have done? My leg isn't meant to twist like that. And why is there a rib sticking out from my chest? Come on, tell me!
I'll tell you. Red. The colour red.
See, even my blood is laughing at me as it runs away.
