Red is the color of fire and blood, so it is associated with energy, war, danger, strength, power, determination as well as passion, desire, and love. Red is a very emotionally intense color. To see red is to become angry suddenly or with such strong emotion that it becomes hard to control oneself.
She breathed out heavily, reaching for the glass of wine Bridget had just sat down on the counter between them. She’d been at the hospital with Allie as a favor to Bea when Bridget had called, asking she come home, that they needed to talk. She’d expected so many things to come out of her girl’s mouth, but news of Red’s death wasn’t even on the list.
“Nuh, you’re lying.” She uttered, lifting the glass to her lips rather than pouring herself a glass. Bridget had to be lying, though she had never lied to Franky before. There just wasn’t any other explanation. “I just spoke to her a couple hours ago. Why do you think I was at All Saints all day?”
“Baby…” The truth was written over Bridget’s face though and Franky finished the glass of wine before sitting the glass back on the marble. “I… I wish I was. She got outside somehow when Ferguson was released.” Bridget’s words were deliberate, getting them out so that Franky knew, but that didn’t make the brunette want to believe her anymore. “Bea tried to attack her with a shiv and Ferguson turned it back on her.”
Franky held her hand up to stop Bridget’s words and pushed away from the counter top. Old habits came swelling back up - she wanted to punch something, or tear something down. Her hands came up to rest on the top of her head as she puffed her cheeks out and walked away from Bridget. She’d come past those destructive tendencies, but she didn’t want to accident do anything that she’d come to regret.
Her mind was racing. Red was dead? She’d just seen her a few days ago, just spoke to her a couple hours ago. It just didn’t make sense. Nope. This was all a nightmare. She was still asleep in the chair next to Allie’s bed, that must be it. She just needed to wake herself up. Bea wasn’t dead, this was just a nightmare. That would explain it. Or again, Bridget was lying. Something had to be up, something had to give because there was no way Bea was dead.
But even as her mind tumbled with the explanations, she knew they were not true. Bridget wouldn’t lie to her, especially about something like this. And the pain tearing through her chest told her she’d be away by now if she were sleeping. She’d have jolted awake, she knew as such. Too much pain in a nightmare and she’d come flying awake in sweat drenched clothes. She was no stranger to nightmares and this certainly didn’t feel like one.
Franky turned back towards Bridget as her arms fell back to her sides. Bridget hadn’t approached, knowing sometimes Franky needed her space and Franky was thankful for that. Franky’s nose scrunched as she felt tears begin to well in her eyes and Bridget finally stepped around the kitchen island.
“Baby… I’m so sorry.”
“Nuh…” Franky shook her head and Bridget stopped, watching with worry written over her face. “I..” Franky paused, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. “I’m gonna go out to Bell’s Beach, yea?”
Any other time Bridget would have complained it was too cold. It was May for god’s sake, the water would be frigid. But she only gave a nod in response. “Let me know you get out there safely, yea?”
Franky dragged a hand over her face, trying to hide the onslaught of emotion as she left the room in the direction of the front door. “Yea.” She called out, the simplest word so her voice wouldn’t break as she grabbed her keys from the entry way table and pulled a pair of shoes on.
The drive to the beach had been long and quiet, allowing for much reflection. Bea was dead. The woman who’d very nearly killed her, had slit her own wrists, escaped prison, killed Brayden Holt and taken Top Dog all with one fight, was dead. The woman she’d eventually befriended and come to think of as almost a sister, was dead. She could still picture Red’s face when she’d told her a woman tasted like chicken, the way she’d laughed and believed her.
When Franky arrived at the beach, she’d sent Bridget a text before hiding her phone and locking her car as she exited it. Her feet carried her down to the sandy beach seemingly of their own accord and she fell to the sand just out of the ocean’s reach.
And it was there, on that deserted beach with the ocean air spraying in her face, that she finally allowed herself to break down. Her arms wrapped around her knees, she let her forehead rest against her knees and she wept. Her body wracked with the sobs which were drowned out by the ocean as the waves lapped up the shore as she tried to understand why life was so unfair. Why the Freak got to walk away alive, while Red got to die.
Franky was seeing red in that moment. The Freak had taken so much from her, destroyed so much, ruined so much and now… now she had to take this from her as well?
Franky cried until her chest hurt and her eyes burned and then she stared at the ocean as the waves moved up over the sand and over her toes, the sun setting behind her. She remained there, staring at the ocean and sky, until darkness fell around her and her body and mind were numb. It was only then that she’d return to her car and start the ninety minute drive back home.