"it's where she lies, broken inside…"
words could not describe how much she hated the color white.
really, as an artist, she could never really understand the purpose of a white crayon when the only thing you had to draw on was white paper. while all of her other crayons had been reduced to stubs within a few days, the white crayon remained untouched and for some reason, it annoyed her to no end.
she didn't have a say in what she wore either. maybe because the members of the organization wore black as their 'uniform', she was forced to wear white. she would never ask why. she didn't really care. maybe it was meant to symbolize something. maybe it was a symbol of her imprisonment.
oh, and then there was that white room. she hated that room more than she hated the color in general. the color contributed to her hate for it, of course. but that room was her prison. that's just it. you could say whatever you wanted, but she was a prisoner and that room was her own personal hell. whenever she was in that room, she felt like she was going crazy. all of those pictures that she drew were the result of what she was seeing in her mind. she had no idea who these people or places were and there she was, drawing pictures of them and putting them all over the walls. she was honestly scared of herself whenever she was in that room.
every prisoner needs their prison. she considered the color white to be that prison, the one thing that would always hold her down.
a/n: ...this is quite different from the original idea i had for this story.
hah, this is my third namine story. sorry if it's getting annoying, she's just so much fun to write about.