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ARIA AKA RED

Hands...

Such merciless little tools we each own.

They also happen to be our deadliest weapon.

They contribute to the creation of existence, the survival, and the destruction of life.

They inflict pain... pleasure...

They give... take...

Without them, we are only a vessel of ourselves, incapable of doing the simplest of tasks in our very ordinary lives.

They allow a blind individual to see, read, and feel.

We take them for granted when we need them the most.

Like right now. I need my hands to be free so I can escape the psychotic Volkov twin who is on a path of devastation.

The sides of my hands are grazed to shit, and I bite down on my molars suppressing the cries of agony, fear and suffering.

"Come on you son of a bitch!" I hiss, sliding my hands up and down the tree trunk with everything I have.

My hands tear themselves free from the shredded clothing, and I take a deep breath as I search the woods for Roar.

When I do not hear him, tears begin to obscure my eyes,
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