Green

A few regarding your physical being: Your eyes, clothes and aura.

The colour of your paranoia.

Some concerning your favourite things: The smell of freshly cut grass, the sound of leaves under our feet, the sight of the long awaited Harbucks logo.

The cause of your condition.

Why does one colour provoke so many different responses in different people?

You would have said it was a plot.

I would have laughed…

Not anymore.

In this place all there is is White.

The sheets you lie between.

The walls and floors.

Death.

Most say Death is black, but we know better.

Now I'm not so sure.

I can feel it pressing in on me but it's not white it's…

No…

Green…

Screams ripped and tore at the normally peaceful household.

I fell out of our bed, getting tangled in the sheets that covered my body. In panic I surveyed the room and instantly realised you weren't there.

Why weren't you there?

Sprinting through the house I almost missed you. You were huddled up so small. I observed you rocking; back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.

Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.

'Tweek?'

I was too loud. Way too loud.

Why?

You screamed again.

It was like a chain reaction. You screamed, I stared on in shock. You reached for the knife, I stared on in shock. You moved…

…I blinked at the knife stuck in my arm…

I'm sorry.

…You blinked. I blinked…

…We both passed out…

And you haven't woken up….

Green.