RED HOOD ✔

1:BEGINNING

"I'll be right there!" I yell back, racing down the stairs two at a time to meet Dad in the kitchen. He's making breakfast, the smell of pancakes filling the air. "Ay, could you go get the mail real quick?" he asks, not looking up from the skillet.

Sure thing. I walk to the door, hoping maybe Mom wrote to me. I pick up the stack of mail and hand it over to him, watching as he starts sifting through it. He grabs a glass of water and begins reading, while I turn away for just a second to snag a soda from the fridge—an orange Fanta, can't get enough of it.

But then, a shattering sound snaps my attention back. The glass Dad was drinking from is now in pieces on the floor. "Are you okay?" I rush over, hoping he hasn't cut himself.

Dad doesn't answer right away. Instead, he gives me this cold, woeful stare and says, "Vincent, could you take a seat?" His voice is heavy, like it's carrying something terrible.

Something's wrong, really wrong. I sit down on the couch in the sitting room, my heart pounding. This must be about a bad grade, or something worse—knowing Dad, probably two bad grades. He's the type to make a drama out of academic slips.

Dad sits beside me and starts with, "There is no easy way to say this," his frown deepening. He sounds so serious... maybe he forgot to feed my goldfish again? This would be the third one.

"What is it, dad?" I ask, my worry cranking up another notch.

"Vincent... The mail earlier... it was a notice informing us... Vincent, your mother died in a car crash a few days ago." The words don't make sense. I heard them just fine, but my brain can't seem to wrap around the fact. She was okay just the other day, wasn't she?

"No, you're lying, stop lying!" I shout. Tears start to escape my eyes as denial floods in. Stop it, stop it, STOP! I don't want to believe it.

A cruel dialogue kicks in:

Vincent, you're being stupid, this means your mother is dead.

No, but that doesn't make sense.

Of course it makes sense, Vincent... people die.

But not my mother, right? Not the people that matter to me the most, right?

Death truly does not give a shit who a person is and definitely not what that person meant to you. If it's their time, then it's their time

"Ay, fuck off, why the hell are you so opinionated??" I snap at this cruel voice.

Because, dumbass... you are talking to yourself.

I am losing my mind, aren't I?

Indeed you are.

Dad sees how upset I am and tries to pull me into a hug. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" I scream. He's lying to me, he has to be, right? But why would he do that? The hurt is as plain on his face as it is on mine.

So it's true then... My mother is dead.

I retreat to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. My crying intensifies, and a sharp pain clenches my chest. My mind gets foggy, and I can't think. I hear loud bangs on the other side of the door—Dad wants to get in. I don't want him in; I want to be alone.

He spends the whole night by my room door, and eventually, I decide to let him in. Now he sits on my bed next to me, and we just sit there in silence. "Are you okay?" he asks, though it's clear neither of us is.

I give him a look that says he should know the answer. Dad moves closer. "Okay, my fault, dumb question," he admits. I feel bad for snapping at him, but the pain is just too much.

He tries to cheer me up with a memory. "Halloween three years back, remember when you asked your mum to get you the toughest costume she could find, and she got you a Little Red Riding Hood outfit?" he says with a warm grin. Yeah, I remember—the kids laughed, but Mom turned it into a win with that story about 'The Beast of Gi ton Thàvmaton.' That story boosted my popularity big time.

"I remember! Mum was awesome," I say, feeling a brief smile cross my face before it fades. "Yes, she was," Dad agrees, his own smile disappearing too. "She was the most magical being I've ever seen, acted like she was from another world. She was truly one of a kind."

We sit in silence until I finally ask, "So when is the funeral?" Dad explains it's in a week, giving time for Mom's relatives to travel here.

"So..." he stands up after a pause, "I'm gonna go get us some breakfast. You coming?" I nod and follow him, trying to hold on to the normalcy of life, even as everything feels irrevocably changed.

********

The day of the funeral was surreal. The garden was crowded with people, many of whom I didn't recognize. Mom had touched more lives than I'd realized. Aunt Liza was there, looking so much like Mom it almost took my breath away. After the service, she pulled me aside. "Meet me at the back of the house after the burial," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

I waited nervously for her, pondering what could be so important. When she finally appeared, she was carrying a sack. "Your mum taught you archery, right?" she asked, pulling out a sleek black bow and a quiver of arrows, their tips painted red.

"Yeah," I replied, my curiosity piqued. What was she about to reveal?