The Girl Called Red

Prologue.

Hello lovelies! It's been ages since I gave you all something new, and I hope, that my writing has improved.
This story is dark with some pretty bad scenes so please be warned. You may not enjoy some of the things you read.
But, The Girl Called Red can sometimes worm her way into your heart even if you don't want her to.

Enjoy.

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Faint light streamed through in horizontal lines as my eyes opened. A hard edge pressed itself into my cheek, threatening to cut open my skin. The sound of New York at dawn filtered in, a muffled rumble of background noises, of cars and buses, and people either getting home, or leaving. 

Most people complain about there always being sound. I found it comforting. 

With a sigh I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. Cream paint peeling in the corner above my head, glossed over with pink and orange light. My hand stumbled around next to my head until it found the source of the imprint in my cheek, a warm, hard cover. A book. 

A groan came out of my mouth as I pushed it off of the bed. I hadn't dreamed, which was good. It was nice of my subconscious to give me a break from the many nightmares it liked to choose from when I succumbed to sleep a mere handful of hours before dawn.

It was an effort to get up and get ready for the day ahead. By the time I had, the light coming in was faintly yellowish, the kaleidoscope of dawn passing me by. My reflection stared back at me with dead, unseeing eyes. I took in my army boots, black skinny jeans and grey woollen shirt with a sigh. The jeans, originally in perfect condition, had two rips on my knees, one was by accident, the other made to match. 

I threw on my black army surplus jacket and crumpled money into my back pocket. My wallet was somewhere under the mess of books all around, the only source of order was the files neatly organised on my desk. Cool crisp air filled my lungs as I opened my window and climbed out onto the fire escape. 

In my boots I was liable to wake up the others in the apartment building we shared. Besides. I preferred travelling down the fire escape. I rubbed my eye for a second before staring down below. I was on the second story, four sets of stairs waited below me then a retractable ladder that remained rusted and unmovable. With a roll of my shoulders I stared down into the alley below. My boot rested on the safety rail, testing it, before I got up onto it and jumped.

Time seemed to slow as the ground came closer, my body pulled taught, muscles loose as I prepared myself. I landed with a steady thump, rolling. My mess of dark wavy hair did not budge but my field of vision flashed red for a moment as my brown eyes turned a glowing red. A quick glance at my watch told me it was 0530. My boots were heavy as I stomped out of the alley towards the streets eager for a caffeine fix.

Twenty minutes later and I was standing in front of a small rustic coffee shop in downtown. My own brown eyes stared back at me as I watched my reflection, waiting. The cool morning breeze lifted my waves into my face and off of my shoulders. Clicking resounded to my right and I watched as a woman in a dark blue business suit, a few years older than myself, marched past, not a hair on her head out of place. Her image seemed to mean a lot to her as she headed in the direction of Upper Manhattan.

My ears perked at the sound of shuffling inside. A well-aged face saw me through the glass door. A genuine smile ghosted my face as the door opened with the tinkle of a small dainty bell and I was ushered inside.

"Ah Scarlet! My favourite customer, I knew you'd be coming here early! I just knew it!" Luca shuffled towards into the shop, turning the lights off as more light would come inside. "It's a congelamento morning, sì?" His Italian accent graced lightly over the words.