"Welcome to her world that's lying in ashes." - Mary's Song

The whiteness washes away to a murky color. Like cream. White-ish, but not quite. A failure. A mistake.

A me.

The White is dying. I think. The White has gone silent, except for the weeping. The walls shake with the force of the White's tears. The room grows steamy with despair and sorrow.

I don't like looking into the abyss of white anymore. If I stare into a single spot for too long, it turns black. Crumbling paper flakes of darkness, inky color-sucking black, that starts to spread. Up the floor, the walls...

It almost touches me.

I shudder imagining it. It's black tendrils creeping out to get me. To pull me into it, and never let go.

My eyes are closed for a long time. I don't want to see if the White is gone. I miss the White, the only friend I have in this place, but I fear the Black more.

Alone I will be until my courage has come back. Sadly, I think that is dying too.

Dying,

dying,

dying.

The Black cancels out the White, destroying it. Destroying me.