Naminé was hunched over her sketchpad, hands trembling and dotted with eraser shavings that were rocking back and forth due to that particular fact. The tips of her fingers were lightly colored from when they brushed the areas touched by marker on the paper, almost like a faded, dying rainbow that was being observed by pale flesh.
The corners of her eyes were wet, her body shaking. She couldn't hold the pencil correctly, and eventually it fell to the floor, the lead breaking as it did so.
The room was spotless – a blinding white that nearly literally knocked you off your feet when you entered the room. But she didn't see the pure, clean, safe color; no, she was in a room of a black with red splotches covering the walls, some on the ground, and most of it on her hands. She tried to scream, but there was tape on her mouth, refusing her.
Naminé?
No, no, no! Don't believe the lies she had to create. Don't forget the girl you really love…
Oh, Naminé, I'm so glad I found you.
She had killed his memories, really. For all that she'd done, she might as well had taken an ax to them and chopped off their figurative heads. It would explain the blood on her hands, for one, and the regret building up in her stomach, like a black hole sucking up her insides and spitting them out somewhere else, like an alley unlit and shrouded in darkness, for two.
Naminé shook her head. No, she didn't kill any part of Sora.
Kairi? Who's Kairi?
…Except for perhaps his heart.
A/N: I was bored. Homework sucks. End of story. :D