Short and Sweet

AKA Colour me

TW: graphic but not in a very physical way (more psychological?)

[also, this is my first time writing a vignette so feedback is very welcome!]

i.

And she is staring. Staring at the white ceiling, feeling the walls close in, trapping her inside. The world is spinning, white going in and out in flashes, lightning streaks of bright colours appearing. Even as she closes her eyes, colours and shapes pass in a fashion of motions, taunting her, screaming at her. With her eyes open the invisible attack on her is worse, everything is blurred, everything is white, everything is so bright, so blinding, someone please turn it off, turn it off, where's the door? Where's the door? Let me out, please just let me out...let me out.

ii.

Dull grey coats the concrete pillars around her. She finds herself, yet again, staring at all that was grey.Her rapidly beating heart was starting to slow down, her hysterical mind shutting up, even as all she does is stare.

She doesn't move.

iii.

Thrust into complete darkness, absolute nothingness, the end of all sights. Black covered the slabs of brick and stone that stood idly by, watching her with eyes that camouflaged into the background. She is staring, and even if what she sees in the dark is what she sees when she closes her eyes it is just not the same, it is not the same. In the shadows of the room she can hide, but she can never do so in the corners of her mind, with arms that reach out to strangle her and be done with her, end the memory, release me from this hell.

She won't move.

iv.

A smile creeps up on her, small and fleeting, vanishing with a blink. Red, like her chapped and dry lips, colour the canvas of tactiles and cement, a stark difference to the other rooms. Insanity lies within these walls in the words of others, but she finds warmth in the jarring shade. The warmth spreads throughout her body, from the top of her fingers to the bottom of her feet, some of the chill vanishing, subduing away from her body. It feels better, it always does in Red.

As always, she is bleeding, vermillion seeping out her bony arms and twigs for legs, paper for a stomach and balloon for a heart, popping, squeezing, deflating, dying. It covers her from head to toe, and like the walls that surround her she is red, and it is the best feeling in her world.

She is ecstatic.

Eyes closing now, legs stop shaking, her head feels lighter. She is floating, she is so close, so close. Her lungs constrict with a final inhale, she smiles again, hoping it sticks this time.

Electricity courses through her veins, turning on every organ, muscle, tissue, cell that died and though her emotions have not yet awoken she is already filled with dread, she knows what is coming next, she wants to stop them, leave her be, but she can't.

She is then brought into the world, red and raw and shiny and new, like the first time in her mother's arms, like the second in between a stranger's legs, like the third in a bathtub, like the fourth in the hospital, like the fifth here and the sixth and the seventh and eighth and ninth and tenth and eleventh and twelfth and thirteenth, and now fourteenth.

And when she wakes up, it'll be white.

~End~