Red. A color of both love and anger.

Two very different emotions, but both centered around the same thing: desire.

Whether it’s desire for lust or desire for revenge:

red makes you do things. Bad things.

And the desire of the color red is a dangerous thing.

Blood. Cold, thick… _addictive. _

I watched as he begged on his knees, for mercy.

Mercy at my hands. Mercy for me to let him go.

Mercy is a powerful thing.

He should’ve thought of that before getting in my way. “Mercy is not given. It’s earned. And I don’t reward it easily,” I sang, angling the dagger to force him to watch his pathetic reflection in what was about to kill him.

“Please… Red… we can talk this out.” His voice quivered at the sound of my name leaving his lips.

“Shh…” I cooed, smiling brightly.

I leaned close and touched a finger to his lips.

“Now now, you wouldn’t want your last words to be of begging, would you?”

The metal kissed his throat.

“Talking won’t fix the years of ignoring.”

My smile twisted into something darker.

“Talking won’t save you now.”

“Regan… please…”

I drove the dagger into his stomach.

I held his gaze as I twisted the blade—slow,

deliberate.

Savoring the moment.

Savoring the fading light in his eyes.

Red.

Dripping.

Puddling at his feet.

At _my_ feet.

He slumped forward, forehead resting against the floor. I relished his weakness.

His pathetic struggle to cling to life.

His eyes fluttered, lungs gasping for air.

Then came the lights.

Red.

Blue.

White.

His voice cracked, rasping one final breath.

“…y-your… time is up… bet… better run….”

Not begging.

A threat.

A final, bitter threat.

Oh how I longed to wake him and hear him beg again.

To hear him scream again.

“You dare challenge me, Nico?” I swallowed my fury, resisting the urge to slice that pretty little face of his.

“Well… “ I said with a grin, brushing his brown hair from his blood-speckled skin.

“challenge accepted, my love.”

**Challenge accepted. **