Everyone tells me that he's dead, but I am so violently affronted by the notion that Magenta and her friends avoid suggesting it as much as possible.
Magenta is worried about me not sleeping.
"At least I eat, Maggie," I try to reassure her "I didn't eat until you came."
This soothes her, knowing that I'll at least physically survive my Red-induced depression.
I am 15 years old. Red stole my being and left with it 2 years ago. It feels like longer.
Except now I'm not the only one who's spiritless.
Something is amiss with Magenta, she distancing herself and it scares me desperately. I am unnerved by seeing my 17 year old sister sit, immobile, for hours.
She's like a shell, a shell of the aptly named Magenta who first arrived at this dismal place. But I recognise the look on her face...
I've worn it.
Now is her grieving time, more delayed than mine, and I am suddenly grateful for the uncertainty surrounding Red's survival.
Magenta has to suffer through the mental image of her battered, dead lover.
YOU ARE READING
PURPLE
Teen FictionHe promised he'd come back. It's been 3 years. I just want him back. (A/N THIS STORY IS COMPLETED.) (Also, this not a long story. The chapters are short and the story itself is short. Enjoy!)
