Paint It All Red Novels & Stories

“If you don’t leave here now, I would be forced to call in security.” “You can’t just call in security out of the blue, it's too late for that, we are all learning something.” One of the directors interrupts Kayden, but as soon as he was done talking he turned back to the board as was back to paying attention to Crystal. “Even I was worried for the combination; what color do you think should fit it?” “Since you are using red as the main color, some of the soles should be painted black and not this bright sick yellow.” They all nodded except Kayden who was furious. “It looks like a girl in kindergarten painted It, it's all messed up like this.”

Strange in a good way. She's mine. She belongs to me, To use as I wish, To take when I desire, To fuck how I want, To do what I wish... Red is mine... Mine to care for, mine to protect, mine to love. Wait... What! Did I just mention LOVE?

he did the same. Blood splattered everywhere inside the car, and Aaron's white shirt has been painted all in its colour red. He was tearing the rogues from inside the car as if it was nothing but a video game he was playing over there— Though he did not look concerned, he still had rage covering the features of his face.

William gritted his teeth in anger. "Please, it looks like a five-year-old painted that," Eva scoffed. Gasps filled the room after hearing Eva's comments. I stood there just staring at my painting, the wine stain still fresh and dripping down the canvas. My heart sank. A tear trickled down my cheek as I realized the significance of this artwork. It wasn't just a mere painting but a reflection of my emotions and the state of my relationship with William. It was a visual representation of the ups and downs we had endured together, and now, it was ruined. The vivid colors and intricate details I had once admired were now smeared with a deep red stain. Each brushstroke represented a moment in ti

I stared at the canvas. Then grabbed the red paint and splattered it. Again. And again. Until it was no longer a painting but a battlefield—violent, messy, and somehow still heartbreakingly beautiful. Like me.

“Do your worst.” “You hush,” I scolded him, dipping my finger in black paint before catching his bottom lip, dragging it through his stubble and down his chin. “I’m working.” Evan chuckled, but didn’t say anything more as I dipped my brush in the shade of vermilion I’d picked for the base. Across his chest, I painted a red sky, blending darker and lighter reds to create angry, ominous storm clouds above an inky black sea that spanned his abdomen.

The groom mounting the bride on a throne of corpses. My hand moved faster than my mind. I dipped the brush deeper, harder, tearing at the canvas like I was cutting flesh. I mixed the reds and blacks until they bled together, thick and viscous. The eyes I painted stared back, wide and lifeless. The flowers were rotting. The sky dripped gore. A massacre. And I smiled. They wanted a masterpiece? I’d give them one they’d never forget.

"I almost gave your spot away. There’s a late f*e, honey." "I don't mind," I said, my voice steady and flat. "Charge whatever you want. Just make them red. Deep, blood red." I sat in that chair for an hour, watching the polish dry. Every brush stroke felt like I was painting on my war paint. I didn't check my phone. I didn't look at the news. I just stared at my hands, thinking about the gala. When I left the salon, my nails looked like they had been dipped in a crime scene. It was perfect.

So that’s how I ended up in a sleek little gallery in Chelsea at eight o’clock that night, wearing my nicest button-down (the pale blue one that Bella said made my eyes pop) and trying not to feel like an impostor. The place was packed. Black walls, white lights, paintings that looked like someone had thrown paint at canvas and called it genius. Everyone was holding wine glasses and speaking in that low, serious tone people use when they want to sound important. Bella was in her element—chatting up strangers, laughing too loud, flirting with at least three different people at once. I loved watching her work a room. She made everything look effortless. I wandered toward the back, where the cr

I ask, turning to face him fully. He shrugs, hands slipping into his pockets. “Why not? Ghost isn’t the only one who sees the fire in you.” Red reappears with her arms full, dumping things into my arms. “Try them. If you don’t, I will.” I roll my eyes, muttering a curse under my breath. Titan leans in as I turn toward the dressing room. “You should pick the red one,” he says quietly, voice brushing hot against my ear. “Something about that color on you...”