Do You Like The Red Room Novels & Stories

He really does not have any right to be angry at her right now, not after last night. "You're hot-headed, aren't you?" she remarked, still grinning. He wanted to refute that, but he decided to ignore it. "Next question, please." "Fine." She thought for a second. "What is your favorite color and food?" He sighed. That's a better question. "I used to like red," he answered. "But because that's the color of my ward's door in MNA, I've changed my mind. I wouldn't say I like that color now. I don't have any color preferences anymore, and I don't remember what's my favorite food. I've been locked up for too long. I hardly remember those things."

"No girl is supposed to be treated like trash and called stupid names. Now get out of my room before I kill you." Ross just shook his head and walked out. I couldn't help but feel some admiration for Alec. I was surely lucky to have such a roommate.

And they all walked out of my room. I gulped when I realized that I was alone with the pretty mad ghost in red, and I didn't know how to begin a conversation with her now. Was it a wrong decision to prank them like that? I'm screwed. But I'm not going to lie. I feel like I'm the happiest person on earth right now seeing her. We did it! I know that. "Ahem! Uh... Hey, Oj! Umm, are you... How do you feel?" I nervously asked her, and her blazing hazel eyes stared at me like strangling my soul. Damn!

He was straightforward, and with the way I was coughing, I was just glad I hadn't downed any of the liquid; otherwise, I would have been coughing my heart out now. “He is my roommate.” “I didn't argue that.” “How can I like him?” I muttered, taking the cup to my mouth gently and sipping on it. “He is Taylor and I am me,” I added. “Well, that’s not how the heart works, and just because you are River doesn't stop you from liking him.” “I can't like him.” “You can’t, or you don’t?” “What’s the difference?” “For a nerd, I am sure you do know the difference,” he said, and I stopped myself from jumping into the pit he had dug for me.

The only colour on me was my green eyes and my red lipstick. "I haven't, but that doesn't mean I haven't researched the place. It never hurts one to be prepared, Lil." She said matter-of-factly. I laughed as we rounded the corner, the ground sloping down the further we went. After another minute of walking, I spotted the large metal door with the words 'Panic room.' written in neon lights above it. Kylie squealed in excitement as we approached, and it took everything in me not to cover my ears from the piercing blow she had sent to my eardrums.

The old man next to me was applauding. I know the red room, where women are taken and tortured before being killed. When Biatrez disappeared from my sight, I swallowed before facing Frederick Shaw. And yes, I know him. “Looks like you still remember the red room. God, I missed you, you know. When you and Amanda disappeared, my day became boring. The amusement, which only you and Amanda used to bring, is gone. And up until now, there's no one compared to both of you. What if I get Amanda, it will be a grand reunion for us.”He's clapping his hand, still laughing.

It is incredibly impressive. “You´ve accumulated a remarkable array of art over the years.” “When you´re immortal, you typically develop an appreciation for things that have withstood the test of time.” “That makes sense.” I observe that inside the art room is a red door that is rather worn down. Due to its garish color, it looks at-odds with the rest of the art room, sticking out like a sore thumb. “What´s in there?” “Nothing that would interest you.” “That response usually means the opposite.”

But right now, I feel like exploding. The images in my head are wrong, though. They are not images of Sloane, I realize. Growling lowly, I turn the lock to the red room and usher myself inside. I flip on the little, barely there light. It’s reddish hue illuminates the room to an extent, seriously contrasting the bright circus outside.

I step inside, following behind him. His apartment looks exactly like him — dark, not so clean, and cold. Gray walls, black furniture, a whiskey decanter on the counter. A single dim lamp in the corner, throwing long shadows that seem to move when I blink. The place feels like him… dangerous and predatory. Just as his living room’s door lock chimes behind us, he drops the luggage, snatches my wrist, and drags me towards the room I know too well…his red room. The door, painted in maroon and black, is the last room in the hallway.

LEILA . . I hesitate, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Taking a deep breath that doesn’t quite calm the flutter in my chest, I twist it. The click seems so loud in the quiet place, as I pull further, walking in slowly, counting my steps. My breathe hitches as my eyes widens trying to adjust to everything in sight. Or maybe not because I can’t quite see anything here, except where I’m standing. The room is drenched in red, the first thing I notice of it, the red coating everything like the one I had seen in movies, the red room, I could tell the danger of it.