White.
That's her color.
Who made that so? Was it herself, or another? She didn't know. She never questioned it.
Why would she? She hardly knew herself at all. Hardly knew anything besides what was told for her.
So here she is, in this place of white, she sits calmly, almost at ease, but never quite there.
Pale colored crayons skid lightly across paper, creating an image of memories, but who's?
Not her own, not his.
Maybe they were her's. The other half. Color blends, making an ugly grey, but still so pretty in her delicate fingers. She stands from her shell, Time to take a stand!
Crashes, yelling, crayons snapped, crayons falling.
STOP!
Smashed, nothing left but a shell. His shell, the other one stuck in her lies.
Crying, begging.
Forgiveness given by the pure one.
Light bathed in purity is always the strongest, a light she could never reach.
She rewrites her lies, putting the truth back together.
The glass shatters and he awakens once more, her memory fades away.