Red

Anger

The chilly breeze of the autumn morning howls against the shatter proof window. Mary quivers like an aspen leaf as if the wind has enveloped her frail body. The only cold she feels is through the sting of the rusty metal bed on her exposed legs. She sits in solitude as her eyes trail the scratches on the wall left there by past occupants. Her eyes tentatively trail the jagged nails marked that remind her of the artwork she had seen a long time ago with her sister. How long has it been, five years? Ten maybe? She can't seem to remember anymore.

Her thoughts are interrupted as the prison bars open with a reverberating buzz. The guard looks at Mary, unbothered as he checks his watch. He's fat, rounded at the belly, which makes Mary wonder if he would even see her coming. A devious smile graced her lips as she silently arises from her bed. With predator like steps, she approaches him slowly, as not to divert his attention from his watch. Her gaze travels between the taser around the guard's belt, she's so close, Mary's hand's tingle in excitement with the sensation of holding the weapon in her hand, she brings out her hand in the direction of the taser, almost there, and in the last second, the taser is shielded from her eyes by sausage fingers clutching it threateningly. He scowls at Mary and she glares back refraining from going any further.

As she's taken down the same dimly lit corridor, the dismal lighting creates an almost overbearing atmosphere. She passes the cells of many other prisoners, all of whom are sulking and holding onto mementos left by their families. She too used to carry her sister's golden crested angel pendant, but that was before she betrayed her. It was a long time ago and Mary doesn't care anymore, her sister paid the price, that's all that matters.

********

"You lied to me!" Mary screamed

"No, I didn't I swear! I didn't steal your paintings, please believe me" her sister cries

Mary is livid, she can't hold back her anger, how could her sister steal her hard work and claim it as her own. She knows how much Mary prides herself over her paintings and how much time and effort she puts into them. To have her own sister betray her like this, Mary feels angry that she trusted her.

Mary loved her sister and would do anything for her but not today. Mary was fuming, her emotions were being flooded by waves of overwhelming surges of anger. Like beads of perspiration, the anger seeps out through her pores making her heart race and her vision blurry. In that moment, nothing makes sense, all Mary can focus on is the kitchen knife glistening in her eyes like a twinkling star. Like a voice from heaven, or maybe from Satan, she can't tell the difference, it calls her name.

"Take me, Mary, take me, I know you want to" it murmurs to her

She obliges and before she even thinks, the knife has plunged into her sister's chest. Her blood pools over her clothes and onto Mary's hands. Her sister's eyes are wide, unblinking as they cloud over into dark pits as the life leaves her body. But Mary can only concentrate on the blood that coats her hands, it's warm and sticky. It feels so good and-

*******

"Do you still remember that night Mary?" her thoughts are interrupted by her councilor

Why wouldn't she remember it, that was the best night of her life. All those years of having paint smeared on her hands from the countless canvases she decorated could not compare to the feeling of warm blood covering her skin. She had realized that paint would never satiate her desire for blood.

"Yes, I do" Mary replies

"Do you regret what happened that night, Mary? The councilor questions

Mary cocks her head to the side as she eyes the councilor with that same predatory gaze. Mary notices her chestnut hair tied up in a neat bun and her navy suit, so clean and crisp. Oh, but what Mary likes the most is the delightful red lipstick that makes her smile like a Cheshire cat with the memory of her sister's blood.

When Mary doesn't answer she moves her red tinted lips and asks

"Do you still see those spots?"

Mary looks down at her hands. The ones covered in specks of red dots. They looked beautiful to her, like a painting no one understood.

"Yes of course I do" Mary replies

Once again Mary watches her prey with a malicious glare. She ponders upon her thoughts from the morning. Maybe she shouldn't refrain herself, maybe it's time to paint some new spots.