A/N: Just to clear things up this is story is from two perspectives, each paragraph separates the two perspectives. In my word document I had line dividers to make it clear, but for some reason, ficitonpress doesn't show them. Gah!

Red is the color of many things. Of love, blood, death, lust and fear. But to me, red was the color of my jacket, the jacket that my grandmother had bestowed on me. It was hers, but now it was mine. The red jacket represented all of the memories that I had shared with my grandmother and I wore it every Sunday when I went to see her, hoping to create new memories.

I loved the sound of screaming. The sound that was emitted from a human's mouth. It was an admittance of defeat, and of fear. No matter how strong that one may be, a scream showed their true vulnerability. And from the moment that I saw her, I knew. I knew that her scream would be beautiful.

The wind bustled in the crowded city as I clamored my way up to my grandmother's house. In my hands I held a box of cookies. The Cookies were not made from the goodness of my heart and kitchen, but they were bought from the goodness of my money. Every time I visited my grandmother she spoke of how wonderful it would be if I made her cookies, instead of buying them. Every time I let her down.

I watched her as she made her way inside a beaten house, which still magically held its charm. . The wind blew against my face, and I could feel my face turning red, the same color of the coat that disappeared behind the house's door, just as it did very Sunday. The next Sunday would be different. Although the red coat entered the house every Sunday, it usually left it as well.

The aroma of fresh baked cookies entered my nose and I smiled. I had finally baked the cookies for my grandmother. Although they were slightly burnt on the sides, they represented the love between me and her, just like my coat. Just like any other Sunday I entered my Grandmother's house expecting a warm hug from her, and ready to surprise her with my gift. But I never got that hug. And I never left her house.

I was right. Her scream was beautiful.