"This world is full of monsters. They wish to claim you; devour you... until there is nothing left."
Young (e/c) eyes stared up at granny (G/n) in innocence and fear. Slowly, a kind smile spread across her aged face and the boy flinched as she laid her hand upon his head.
"But fear not, my dear little (N/n). There is always hope. So long as you remain brave, kind, and true; nothing can get you."
(Y/n) leaned into his grandmother's touch, sinking further into her embrace. His trembling had barely subsided.
(G/n) shifted her gaze ever so slightly to the door as she held him. She had plenty of experience in maintaining a brave face.
What a fool her daughter was. (M/n)... oh, (G/n) could hardly believe the mess her family was in! But (Y/n)...
Poor (Y/n).
No child should feel unsafe in their own home.
(G/n) gently stroked her grandson's hair, soothing the young boy to sleep. Knowing what would continue on in that accursed house once she was away made her skin crawl...
Alas, (Y/n) was not her son to take.
"Someday, my precious child, you will learn what the true monsters look like... and then you will finally be safe."
_______________________________________
"Goodbye, mom. Love you."
(Y/n) waited for one breath.
Two.
...
Finally, he closed the door with a sigh. It seemed like his mother just... didn't care anymore.
(E/c) pools hesitantly glanced back up at the forbidding house. He was starting to think...
Maybe he didn't either.
Shouldering his bag, (Y/n) hurried through the snowbanks towards town.
His job was a simple one, and the pay wasn't the best... but it was the only thing he was really qualified to do. His mother couldn't put him through school, so his education consisted solely of books and worksheets he picked up from the local library.
Being a paperboy wasn't so bad. Winters were a bit harsh, the only warmth coming from the furlined cloak wrapped tightly around (Y/n)'s body.
His mother hardly ever left the house, they didn't have enough money for more than food, and he hadn't seen his grandmother in years...
The crimson cloak had been the last birthday present she gave him.
It wasn't made for the harshness of Lindow's icy winters. The mink fur, thick and soft, was plenty warm... but the cloth itself had been worn thin.
(G/n) made this gift by hand, and she even hunted the minks herself. She wanted the cloak to be comfortable and breathable so (Y/n) could wear it as often as possible. The outside was a vibrant red silk, the middle was velvet, and the inside was a layer of black silk.
After years of natural wear and tear, there were so many patched holes and discolorations that you could easily mistake it for an old quilt or a bunch of rags stitched together...
But it was his.
He would die before ever getting rid of such a precious thing!
"Hey, Red-Hood!"
...
Of course, that sentiment had its downsides.
"Red-Hood! Don't you dare ignore me."
(Y/n) flinched as the hood of his cloak was violently grabbed. Giddish laughter cruelly filled his ears in a hopelessly familiar way, tears pricking his eyes when he felt a seam slightly pop under Calvin's harsh grip.
"Didn't your whore of a mommy ever teach you any manners?"
YOU ARE READING
Crimson Red
General Fiction(I'm an author on Wattpad, if you are reading this on a different website it is stolen) Hoc est quod lupus quaerit, et sic praeda effugere non potest. "Your warm red blood, it calls me..." Yandere male × Male red riding hood reader (no art belongs t...
