White.

The color of purity and innocence. Outstanding and brilliantly bright white. That was her life six months ago before today.

White.

Pure, and unscathed, unadulterated white. But today there exist no such color. On those walls that once shone bright. On the tiles that were once smooth and blank, lies a color so obscure and so far from white, that she has no idea about what to do.

She pulls her knees closer yet, afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. Afraid to think.

"This isn't right." She hisses, "This isn't fair."

Naked and shivering. Red and sticky. An entity that rocked her pretty porcelain world. Pieces shatter, and blood splatters. Hers and his alike, mixing so dreadfully. An ugly platter of hate...

How wonderful she knew he was. How admirable, and strong. But a liar is only as good as the lies he tells. And even though her job is to spot evil, his lies were a little too much even for her.

Her wrists hurt from the trauma of her actions. His hits had her spinning. His hands made her skin crawl. He pulled, she pushed. He grabbed, she fell. She had to choose. Though neither choice was one she wanted to make, a choice had to be made. The tiles were there… and her hands were desperate. He moved to finish his task, and her tiled fist moved to protect herself.

What an awful sound the commotion made. A sickening crack, followed by a lifeless thud. Eyes wide, and hollow. A body cold and dying. If only he could see her now. How stunned he would be. How right he had been. How troubled she is. Her world once white. Her arms now red, and her room slowly turning black.

Shame. Regret. Pain. Longing. Her mind is dizzy, her thoughts hazy. To her dismay she realizes she wants to see him one last time. No... She realizes she wants to see all of them again. Red, Yellow, and Blue. But especially him. Especially Green. She's slipping now… Losing control…

Her vision's out of focus, but her ears are fine. Painfully fine. And she feels his embrace seconds after she hears his voice. She can feel his pain, and regrets that he witnessed her ignominy. Her betrayal. Her sin.

His lips are warm against her temple, and his voice sounds choked in her ear. "Oh Sydney… I got here just in time…'

Her laugh is bitter. Her whisper sad, "Oh Bridgey you're a little late… and I'm already gone."

Laughter fills her head. It's his laughter... soft, warm, and regretful. "I turn my back for one second, and look at the mess you've made..."

This is her ending, but she doesn't care anymore. As long as he's here everything will be fine. As long as he knows… she'll be fine.


A/N: So what did you think? Should I write a sequel? Any advice would be most helpful. Thanx a billion ;)