Red is an important colour; it represents who we are and what we stand for.
Whether it's the walls that keep us safe from the outside world, the Exterior, or whether it's the clothes that we wear, the colour red constantly reminds us of who we are, the Inferno.
Our purpose in life is to discover a passion. Once it's found, we must hold onto it like it's the only thing worth living for. We aim to find it before we turn sixteen and announce it on Blaze- the birthday of every Inferno member.
Sadly this has not been the case for me.
Today I will have to reveal my passion to everyone. The thought of it makes my stomach churn. Pacing up and down my bedroom has only made it worse. The crimson red walls that surround me don't make it any easier either.
I try to distract myself by staring at the mirror next to my bed. There I stand. I have almond shaped eyes and a small nose. My skin is tanned and my hair is dark and wavy.
I wear a red silk robe that falls from my shoulders to my toes. It exposes my forearms. They are darker in comparison to the rest of my body. They're not hidden from the world. Uncoloured and untouched. Free from the influence of the Inferno.
I turn away from the mirror. My movements are followed by the sensation of silk on my skin. It feels unnatural.
I glance at the dragon that's carved at the bed head. It's bold, one that's fierce. It has teeth as sharp as swords and scales protruding from its spine, like jagged rocks that pierce my mind and expose my insecurities.
I want to cry but I know that I must act like nothing is wrong and be swept up in the splendour of the day.
I direct my attention to the polished floorboards that are beneath me. Finally my nerves begin to calm down.
A knock on my door breaks my trance.
"Jude, are you ready?" My mother, her voice is filled with excitement for today.
"Ahh sure", I stammer.
"That didn't sound convincing son. It sounds like you're concerned about something." She's right though I mustn't let her know what it is.
"Just let it be, I'm fine."
"Jude let me in. We need to talk," she says.
"Trust me I'm fine just let me be," I protest.
"I know you're not fine. Please open the door." Her voice becomes louder.
"No."
"Open your door this instant! She's desperate to know what I'm hiding. I now know she won't relent. I don't care, it was always going to lead to this.
Without hesitation I bolt to the opposite side of the room. Below a window is a red cushion armchair. I take a deep breath and yank it off the wall. I drive my shoulder into the back of it. I begin to move it towards the door. My legs strain and my back aches. The chair sounds shrill against the floorboards.
I look up. I am half way there. But it's too late.
The door is the wide open.
My mother stands there with her arms folded. I attempt to shove the chair at her but she forces her way inside pushing me next to the end of the bed. I grunt and turn away from her charcoal eyes that scan the sour look on my face. She lurks around me like a vulture bidding it's time. Finally our eyes meet. She has a short, scrawny figure. Her head is covered with long brown hair. She wears the same red robe as me.
"You're an open book Jude, I knew something was up." I hate that condescending tone. It's the one that she always uses when she's disappointed in me.
I wish she would just leave me alone. My business is no concern to her.
"Get off my case. Shouldn't you be supporting me instead of putting me down today?"
"Supporting you? Now why would I do that?" Her mouth is open and her eyes are wide. You would think that support from your mother was a something that came naturally but at times I forget she doesn't show me endearment.
For as long as I can remember I've never been good enough for her. She set standards that are astronomically high. She's always wanted me to be Inferno to the core. The fact that I'm not really burns her up inside.
"Look today is meant to be the most important day of my life. Surely I don't have to tell you that." I roll my eyes at her with a sarcastic smile.
"Don't you do that to me", she hisses. "Just because today is important to you doesn't mean you can behave however you please."
"Have you forgotten I'm almost an adult?"
"See you're almost an adult. Even you admit that." I hate how that's a fact. Two more years and I will be released. It can't come soon enough.
"It doesn't matter what I am."
"Even if you're an adult, you still need to show me respect." She points to herself. "I raised you after all."
"Well you don't own me and you never will!" My voice is sharp and full of anguish.
"Right, I am taking you to your father. He isn't going to be pleased with you." She grabs me by the arm tightly gripping my skin. She tries to drag me out of the room. Even though I am about thirty kilos heavier than her, she's surprisingly strong.
"Get off me!", I yell.
Her nails dig in. I grit my teeth. She tries to pull even harder but I don't budge. My arm feels like it is being sliced with serrated knives.
A drop of sweat falls into my eye, it stings. I ignore the pain. I won't let her have her way.
I hear footsteps thundering down the hallway. It could only be my Father.
He storms into the room holding the handle of a baton. The one I am way too familiar with. It's frayed and bounded with black leather.
Just like my Mother, his eyes are dark and full of malice. He is a solid man who is twenty centimetres taller than me. He has olive skin and short brown hair. His legs are the size of tree trunks and his biceps look like they are going to explode. Hair is everywhere on his body. It's unsightly. It manages to peek its way of his chest above his robe. Although he is human his resemblance is more similar to a bear.
My mother lets go of my arm. It's tingling and marked red raw. It's a much a brighter colour than my robe.
He ambles towards me, purposely taking his time. Each step feels like eternity. My mother's eyes glisten at the sight of him.
He points his baton at me like a gun. It sends my insides into somersaults, not because of how disgusting and rotted his teeth are, but because he knows I fear him.
"Hold him down sweetie. He needs to know whose boss." His lips fold into a snarl when he opens his mouth. His voice is dark; it's perfect for a monster like him.
My father signals his head towards me. My mother nods. I try to bolt our of the room but without warning my Mum grabs my shoulder and thrusts her knee into my lower body. I collapse onto the floor.
Shock ripples from my groin to my stomach. I hold back the urge to vomit. I look up and see my father whisper to my mother.
My mother rolls me onto my back. She jumps on top of me pinning down my hands.
"I hate you!" I scream.
I swing my knee into the middle of her back. She winces and buries her nails deeper into the scratches she had previously inflicted. My forearms feel like they're on fire.
Out of the corner of my eye I see my father standing over me twirling his baton. He winks at my mother. He's savouring every moment. The baton is held behind his back ready to strike at any moment.
It's impossible to wriggle away. The throbbing in my gut plus the weight of my Mother is too overpowering. I could easily beg for mercy. I won't allow myself to do that. I won't let them win.
"This one is for your mother", he says with cruelty.
Any second now. Come one just do it. I know what it feels like. Another blow won't make a difference.
I twitch as he launches it towards my face.
I feel nothing. I open my eyes. The baton is only centimetres away from me. It hovers directly above my forehead.
A sick chuckle erupts from the side of his mouth.
My mother joins in. Her laugh pierces my ear drum. She pushes herself off me without any regard for my wellbeing. I let out a gasp, I'm surprised I can still breathe. She lies next to me like a snake. Her smirk is vile.
"Deadbeat", I taunt.
Without warning she spits at me.
A stiff kick hits me in the side. I clutch my ribs and moan. I wipe the spit off my face and glare deep into his eyes.
"I fooled you kid but I ain't playing now", booms my father.
He raises the baton again. He slams it down hard with intent. I crawl into a ball shielding my face.
I feel nothing again. This time I hear a bell ring. It's the front door.
"Get that will you, Juanita", orders my father.
She gets up from the floor and leaves the room.
"Consider yourself very lucky."
My father backs out of the room maintaining eye contact. The door slams behind him. It echoes throughout the room.
I don't get up. I just let out a big sigh. The pressure can finally escape. All I can do is smile.
He knows he has lost this time round. It sure feels good.
At last I have peace.
At least I know they're not my real parents.
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Thank you for reading. It's taken a lot of work to get this far, so I hope you really enjoyed it. Leave as many comments, questions and if you like it a lot please vote for it. Your support is what keeps me going. Who knows where I would be without it :)
Love, JA