Stairs; Heading up to the roof
This was no forest, and Granny's house didn't wait beyond the pillars of stone and marble, and that was plenty fine with her. She was no child's fairytale, no warning cloaked in a red hood. She was the real story, and none of that anesthetized bullshit that Disney fed the world. She was a tease, and she only wanted to find a path so that she could stray from it. No victim and no sweet girl, not this one with her eager gaze and heavily kohled eyes.
She wore red, because that's how the story went. A red hoodie made of cheap cotton, zipped up and pulled over dark hair that streamed well past it. The hoodie only covered her ass, because why pretend it was meant to do anything more than that? She wore ruffled black boyshorts beneath it, black rubber sandals from some distant cousin of Walmart, and her toenail polish was a chipped cherry red that matched the red that lacquered her mouth. The only thing missing was a lollipop between her lips, held between fingers that ended in matching red, but that would be a bit much, even for her. Anyway, it would just get in the way. She wasn't Lolita with her harmless games, and she hated misrepresenting herself.
Our Red looked around the foyer, where she happened to be when she forgot who she'd been and became what she became, and she didn't seek out a wolf. Who said Red couldn't hunt down her own trouble, or encourage it to find her instead? She pranced down the center aisle of that luxurious room, hip sway and bad attitude in an Old Navy hoodie, and she met every eye that she passed. Come with me, her black eyes invited, dirty promises wrapped in a girl's smile. She stared them all down, and then she rounded the corner and started the climb for the roof, certain a wolf would follow.