Yellow


i.
Misa could remember it clearly, as though it were yesterday; the creak of the door and the thump of her heart, fingers shaking. The clock on the wall said it was four a.m. and she felt sick, ill, intoxicated; the party had been wild, her stomach felt heavy and she knew her parents were going to be mad when they found out…


ii.
She didn't turn the lights on. She didn't dare; breath hitching in her throat as she crept across the living room (clunk, clunk, clunk); no, this was no good, they'd hear her in those silly heels- with a sigh, she bent to take them off and-

-and her fingers brushed something cold and sticky and unmistakably dead.


iii.
The walls used to be yellow, once upon a time. But now, when Misa felt for the light switch with a pain in her throat, she found they had been redecorated. It was quite a messy affair, really; like a biology lesson gone horribly wrong, with cold (dead) meat on the floor – on the walls – everywhere and anywhere, missing limbs and eyes and internal organs…


iv.
And, after that, everything went red.