Red

Nobody knows. Nobody knows who he is, nobody knows where he comes from; nobody remembers his pretty white face, or his pretty red hair. Nobody remembers his pretty acrobatic sister, the first and the last to flip involuntarily without safety netting. Oh no, nobody remembers. Not at all. But a certain someone might. A certain someone might remember it all, might still suffer from nightmares, might still see her shadow against the wall at night, might still hear her voice, her last scream in his head. Hearing her cries, her pleas, hearing the sharp jagged laugher drowning it all out, and then red. Maybe. Just maybe. Yes, somebody might remember it perfectly. If there's anyone out there, anyone with pretty red hair, and dark eyes hiding dark secrets, anyone at all, he knows. And he never forgot. And he never forgave.