My mind flooded with flashes of Red's memories. They floated around me like broken windows, each showing a different piece of her life.
Faces. Places. Blood. Screams.
It was overwhelming.
Before I could choose, one of the fragments yanked me in, like a hook had grabbed my chest and dragged me under.
The world shifted around me.
I found myself standing in a dim stone room. Chains rattled in the background. The air smelled of blood, iron, and something worse, burnt flesh.
Across the room, she stood.
Red.
Not quite the Red I knew now—this was her younger, wilder version. She couldn't have been older than twenty-two. But even then, the madness was thick in her eyes.
Her short hair framed her face messily, and she wore... a ridiculously bright, floral dress. Pink and yellow flowers, like she was ready for a picnic. She smiled wide, a child's grin stretched too far, too sharp.
