Emma found herself occupying the side of the room left vacant by the others. There wasn't much on that side of the room, except a row of white folding chairs and a small wooden table covered in a bright layer of white paint, which had old magazines stacked neatly to one side. Emma reached for one of the magazines, but was once again taken aback by her own hand. The black number seemed to scream at her against the pale glow of her fair skin. She also noticed how nice and manicured her nails were, instead of chewed with red nail-polish chipping off as they usually were.
A voice cleared its throat next to Emma, startling her enough for her to jump out of her seat. The girl Emma had seen before, with wavy dark hair and olive-toned skin, stood in front of Emma. The girl's blue eyes shifted back and forth, reflecting hints of green under the light.
"My name is Raven Delarosa." She said, awkwardly sticking out her hand, looking incredibly stiff.
Emma took it, relieved one of the boys had not been the first to approach. "Emma." She said, shaking Raven's hand. "Emma Hart." Emma glanced a bit past Raven, and noticed the boy who had sat next to Raven's feet earlier.
Raven followed Emma's line of sight. "That's my little brother." Raven said, tossing her head towards the timid boy standing several steps behind her. "His name is Chandler."
Chandler was taller than Raven, and more gangly looking, with close cropped dark hair and big brown eyes. He looked about sixteen, while his sister looked more like she might be twenty. Chandler moved over to us quietly, keeping just behind his sister's shoulders. He gave off an impression of innocence and fear, all wrapped into a young mind that Emma felt should could almost look into if she tried hard enough; It was an eerie feeling, and it weirded Emma out. People's thoughts are things others should not have access too, they are not pretty like the piano music, Emma felt.
Sitting down slowly, Emma tried to calm her mind down. She turned her head back to Raven, who had a maternal look about her. "Where am I?" Emma finally asked.
Raven looked to Chandler, then both looked back to Emma, a sad look tugging at their faces. "From what we understand, we are in some kind of experimental facility, far underground." Raven explained. "There's not a single window in the building, and it has a slow upward incline when you move towards the west."
Both Raven and Chandler pulled a chair out and sat across from Emma. Chandler gently took Emma's hand and traced the five with his finger. "This number means you are the fifth member of this group." Chandler let go of Emma's hand and showed her the "3" inscribed upon his own. "They choose people who are least likely to be missed when taken, and then create an event where you should have died, or are forever missing, but really they take you, and they change you." Chandler pressed his lips tight together, letting Emma's hand slide back into her lap.
His sister laid a hand on his back. She used her other hand to tuck some hair behind her ear, and Emma noticed the "2" on Raven's hand, looking larger and more clumsy than the five on Emma's when she thought about it. "They don't give us any information unless they think it would help their purposes." Raven glanced about the room, and looked at Emma with complete seriousness. "I think they're making us into weapons." She whispered. "We are faster, stronger, better at solving problems, and at the very least we can all see into each other's minds, which allows us to communicate without speaking." Raven glanced over at the boy sitting at the piano. "Well, if you let us, anyway."
Emma looked over at the dark boy who sat at the piano, and got the sense his name was Jason, which she probably got from Raven. So that was why Emma could hear the music, and then could no longer once she had been noticed. It was a lot to take in, and most of it raised even more questions in Emma's mind. Yet, there was one thing that seemed to especially stick out. If this was supposed to happen to people who wouldn't really be missed, then why her? She was dearly loved and fought over by her parents, each constantly seeking her affection at every opportunity.
Emma looked into Raven's eyes, and with a tone of great concern asked, "Why did they chose me? I was being expected somewhere, and my parents would be hysterical if anything ever happened to me."
Chandler and Raven exchanged a quick glance. "Were you alone?" Raven asked.
Emma shook her head slowly. "No... I... I was with my boyfriend." She squeaked, growing exceedingly nervous.
Both siblings pursed their lips, looking more like siblings with their furrowed brows. "There was a bit of commotion yesterday with a new patient, and since you're here it must not have been you." Raven speculated. "Sometimes the people they pick don't always cooperate with the changing process, and they take special care, or just don't make it. So they bring in new people to fill in the empty spot every time they lose one of us. Two months ago we had a young girl who just wasn't strong enough to withhold to change, so they must have gone for your boyfriend, not thinking you'd be with him, and when you were... well two for the price of one. Just like us."
They may have gone on to explain other things, but all Emma could think about was Logan. He was alive, at least he had a greater chance of being alive that is. The small sliver of hope grew within Emma, and a goofy smile, regardless of all the bad news she had been given, found its way onto her lips.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Friday, May 24, 2013
Chapter Three - Travis
Travis was a bit mystified by the frazzled girl in the doorway. She seemed small and fragile, a feeling none of the other's ever portrayed. Travis looked down at the "1" carved into his hand. He had seen everyone who came through here, and not all of them had made it, their numbers being placed on a new subject after disappearing.
Becoming transfixed Travis took a step towards the girl, but faltered back seeing the panicked condition she was in. The poor girl probably thought this was an insane asylum... if only. Following the path of the girl's eyes, Travis noticed she was looking at none other than the brooding Jason, who was probably playing the piano in his mind again. We had all been blocked out of his head the moment he found a way to do it, but without even realizing there was someone new, this girl would be able to hear the notes.
Jason seemed to realize what was happening, and as always built his wall up even higher. The idiot. If this had been a few years ago, before Travis had been captured, he knew he would have swept this girl off her feet and would have had enough time to finish some early Christmas shopping. He was fast and he was good, but it never did make him feel any better.
~~
Travis Peterson was an only child, with parents who were often gone on business trips. His parents never seemed to understand the kind of loneliness they forced upon him, the least they could have done was give him a sibling to feel like orphans with. But no, instead they gave Travis fancy gifts, and let him drive their Porsche when they were gone, but it always seemed to have a flat. Useless. Travis spent a majority of his time throwing parties in the huge and empty house he was left in, and sweeping the ladies off their feet, which he seemed to excel at.
Checking his calendar, Travis saw he had a date with a girl who had been playing hard to get. This was the ultimate challenge for Travis, and he couldn't wait to show his friends how good he could really be. He checked the time, and briefly ran his fingers through his hair, perfecting the rolled-out-of-bed look. His parents had left a note in the kitchen next to the key bowl,
"Samuel,
We're off to Paris, will land around 6:00am tomorrow. Car still has a flat, but the air in your bike tires look fine. Be good.
Mom & Dad"
Travis crumpled up the note and tossed it at the trashcan, not caring that it missed. His parents still called him Samuel, insisting that he go by the name on his birth certificate: Samuel Travis Peterson II. Travis refused to go by the name Samuel, not because it was confusing, but because he just wanted nothing to do with his parents if he had any say in it.
After a brief bike-ride to the local coffee shop, Travis glanced through the window to see Kat Brown looking a bit annoyed. Perfect. The first step was completed, she is eager to see Travis, and will be grateful when he walks in. A smirk crossed Travis' lips as he sauntered into the shop.
Kat looked unimpressed as Travis slid into the booth across from her. She pulled her wavy red hair into a ponytail and sighed. "You're late."
"I know, i'm really sorry about that. My Porsche had a flat." Travis shrugged.
"Uh huh... Is that supposed to impress me?" Kat was having none of Travis' usual charms.
"You're right... I'm sorry." He said. "What would you like, I'll get you whatever you want." Kat looked at the menu and seemed to lighten up a bit. Travis ordered for the two of them, and he listened patiently to all of Kat's plans for her family vacation in Canada. Travis was sure his attentive listening would get him somewhere since nothing else seemed to work with this girl. After their tea arrived Travis started in on closing the deal. "My parents are actually off to Paris right now." Travis shrugged.
"Oh really? That's neat, what are they doing there?" Kat asked.
"Oh business stuff." Travis reached his hand across the table, his fingers softly sliding on top of Kat's. "Anyway, I've got a giant house to myself, now, and it gets pretty lonely sometimes." Travis looked up through his bangs, the puppy-dog look that always seemed to work.
Kat's face went sour and she snapped her hand back. Before Travis could even process what was happening Kat had collected her things and was heading for the door. "Just because you're lonely, doesn't mean you should use people for your own advantage." She paused right in front door, and looked at Travis with an almost sad look. "I do pity you." The words loomed in the air, long after Kat was gone.
After a minute of processing, Travis stood up, knocking the tea off the table. "Who needs you anyway!" He yelled at the echo of her words. Running out of the shop, Travis didn't care to grab his bike, and just started running for home, hoping to burn off some steam. After taking a turn down a street hardly used by townspeople, Travis slowed to a walk. Trying his best to repress his emotions, Travis almost didn't notice a car speeding down the road. Travis did his best to run out of the way, but in the end the car jumped up onto the curb and crashed into his side.
~~
Travis took another look at the girl with the nervous look on her face, and turned away from her, sitting against one of the plain white walls, feeling all kinds of remorse and sickness in the center of his stomach.
Becoming transfixed Travis took a step towards the girl, but faltered back seeing the panicked condition she was in. The poor girl probably thought this was an insane asylum... if only. Following the path of the girl's eyes, Travis noticed she was looking at none other than the brooding Jason, who was probably playing the piano in his mind again. We had all been blocked out of his head the moment he found a way to do it, but without even realizing there was someone new, this girl would be able to hear the notes.
Jason seemed to realize what was happening, and as always built his wall up even higher. The idiot. If this had been a few years ago, before Travis had been captured, he knew he would have swept this girl off her feet and would have had enough time to finish some early Christmas shopping. He was fast and he was good, but it never did make him feel any better.
~~
Travis Peterson was an only child, with parents who were often gone on business trips. His parents never seemed to understand the kind of loneliness they forced upon him, the least they could have done was give him a sibling to feel like orphans with. But no, instead they gave Travis fancy gifts, and let him drive their Porsche when they were gone, but it always seemed to have a flat. Useless. Travis spent a majority of his time throwing parties in the huge and empty house he was left in, and sweeping the ladies off their feet, which he seemed to excel at.
Checking his calendar, Travis saw he had a date with a girl who had been playing hard to get. This was the ultimate challenge for Travis, and he couldn't wait to show his friends how good he could really be. He checked the time, and briefly ran his fingers through his hair, perfecting the rolled-out-of-bed look. His parents had left a note in the kitchen next to the key bowl,
"Samuel,
We're off to Paris, will land around 6:00am tomorrow. Car still has a flat, but the air in your bike tires look fine. Be good.
Mom & Dad"
Travis crumpled up the note and tossed it at the trashcan, not caring that it missed. His parents still called him Samuel, insisting that he go by the name on his birth certificate: Samuel Travis Peterson II. Travis refused to go by the name Samuel, not because it was confusing, but because he just wanted nothing to do with his parents if he had any say in it.
After a brief bike-ride to the local coffee shop, Travis glanced through the window to see Kat Brown looking a bit annoyed. Perfect. The first step was completed, she is eager to see Travis, and will be grateful when he walks in. A smirk crossed Travis' lips as he sauntered into the shop.
Kat looked unimpressed as Travis slid into the booth across from her. She pulled her wavy red hair into a ponytail and sighed. "You're late."
"I know, i'm really sorry about that. My Porsche had a flat." Travis shrugged.
"Uh huh... Is that supposed to impress me?" Kat was having none of Travis' usual charms.
"You're right... I'm sorry." He said. "What would you like, I'll get you whatever you want." Kat looked at the menu and seemed to lighten up a bit. Travis ordered for the two of them, and he listened patiently to all of Kat's plans for her family vacation in Canada. Travis was sure his attentive listening would get him somewhere since nothing else seemed to work with this girl. After their tea arrived Travis started in on closing the deal. "My parents are actually off to Paris right now." Travis shrugged.
"Oh really? That's neat, what are they doing there?" Kat asked.
"Oh business stuff." Travis reached his hand across the table, his fingers softly sliding on top of Kat's. "Anyway, I've got a giant house to myself, now, and it gets pretty lonely sometimes." Travis looked up through his bangs, the puppy-dog look that always seemed to work.
Kat's face went sour and she snapped her hand back. Before Travis could even process what was happening Kat had collected her things and was heading for the door. "Just because you're lonely, doesn't mean you should use people for your own advantage." She paused right in front door, and looked at Travis with an almost sad look. "I do pity you." The words loomed in the air, long after Kat was gone.
After a minute of processing, Travis stood up, knocking the tea off the table. "Who needs you anyway!" He yelled at the echo of her words. Running out of the shop, Travis didn't care to grab his bike, and just started running for home, hoping to burn off some steam. After taking a turn down a street hardly used by townspeople, Travis slowed to a walk. Trying his best to repress his emotions, Travis almost didn't notice a car speeding down the road. Travis did his best to run out of the way, but in the end the car jumped up onto the curb and crashed into his side.
~~
Travis took another look at the girl with the nervous look on her face, and turned away from her, sitting against one of the plain white walls, feeling all kinds of remorse and sickness in the center of his stomach.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Chapter Two - Music
Emma did not know how to respond to these strange people surrounding her. She stood in a small doorway, two white coats standing confident behind her, suggesting Emma become familiar with these strange individuals. Foot steps echoed away as a white door slid shut with a soft click behind Emma, leaving her alone with four others she had no interest in associating with.
The strangeness of it all weighed heavily upon her. She felt no pain at all, which she would have expected after such a traumatic accident. She thought maybe it all somehow manifested itself inside of her, attacking feelings and hopes instead of bones and organs.
Emma had awoken in a bright white room, a thin sheet pulled up to her shoulders. Two white cloaked strangers stood before her: a blonde woman with a high ponytail and glasses, and a man with a sharp jaw line and slicked back light brown hair.
They were gentle; checking her vitals with a small machine they had wheeled in. Their gentleness seemed off to Emma when all she wanted to do was yell and ask about Logan, but she did not have the strength within her.
Helping Emma sit up, the two white coats began to coax her out of bed. Emma's feet slid out from under the thin white sheet and onto the soft white carpet below. She couldn't help but feel everything around here was too nice, too comforting and gentle. As she stood up, Emma noticed her reflection in a mirror that was mounted on the opposing wall. She hardly recognized herself, not that she had changed, but she looked perfectly healthy and it seemed unsettling. Her hair was shinier and cleaner than it had been the whole time she'd been away at college, and her skin seemed new. Lifting her left hand to touch her own face, Emma noticed something she knew to be quite wrong. In between her thumb and forefinger was a dark "5" tattooed onto her skin.
Emma knew this should bother her, awaking with a tattoo you don't remember getting was always a bad sign, but she found herself apathetic towards all of it as she let the two adults lead her out the door.
~~~
Emma felt a little silly in the white sundress she found herself wearing, as everyone else seemed to be wearing red tones or dark charcoal colors. There was a girl in an oversized sweater sitting on a white couch that looked too stiff, and a boy, seeming a few years younger than the girl, sitting on the floor by her feet, sketching in a book as the girl seemed transfixed on a spot on the wall.
Another boy, with messy hair and dark green eyes, seemed to have taken notice of Emma, and acted as if he would move towards her. A kind of panic over took Emma, not knowing where she was or what had even really happened starting to overwhelm her, when a strange kind of symphony over took her. It sounded like a piano, but when Emma spotted the piano on the far side of the room no one was playing it. There was a boy sitting at the piano, his hair gelled up and to the side to keep from getting in his eyes, but his hands were folded onto his lap as the music played.
Perhaps the boy could tell Emma was listening. He glanced over at Emma, his dark eyes a bit big, as if he had been startled, and the music instantly stopped in the middle of a measure. Emma tilted her head a bit, curious as to what it was this boy was about, but he simply turned away from her, resting his head against his hand. Emma glanced at the others once more, hoping by some great miracle she had missed the face she wanted to see most, but Logan was not in that room, and she knew that.
The strangeness of it all weighed heavily upon her. She felt no pain at all, which she would have expected after such a traumatic accident. She thought maybe it all somehow manifested itself inside of her, attacking feelings and hopes instead of bones and organs.
Emma had awoken in a bright white room, a thin sheet pulled up to her shoulders. Two white cloaked strangers stood before her: a blonde woman with a high ponytail and glasses, and a man with a sharp jaw line and slicked back light brown hair.
They were gentle; checking her vitals with a small machine they had wheeled in. Their gentleness seemed off to Emma when all she wanted to do was yell and ask about Logan, but she did not have the strength within her.
Helping Emma sit up, the two white coats began to coax her out of bed. Emma's feet slid out from under the thin white sheet and onto the soft white carpet below. She couldn't help but feel everything around here was too nice, too comforting and gentle. As she stood up, Emma noticed her reflection in a mirror that was mounted on the opposing wall. She hardly recognized herself, not that she had changed, but she looked perfectly healthy and it seemed unsettling. Her hair was shinier and cleaner than it had been the whole time she'd been away at college, and her skin seemed new. Lifting her left hand to touch her own face, Emma noticed something she knew to be quite wrong. In between her thumb and forefinger was a dark "5" tattooed onto her skin.
Emma knew this should bother her, awaking with a tattoo you don't remember getting was always a bad sign, but she found herself apathetic towards all of it as she let the two adults lead her out the door.
~~~
Emma felt a little silly in the white sundress she found herself wearing, as everyone else seemed to be wearing red tones or dark charcoal colors. There was a girl in an oversized sweater sitting on a white couch that looked too stiff, and a boy, seeming a few years younger than the girl, sitting on the floor by her feet, sketching in a book as the girl seemed transfixed on a spot on the wall.
Another boy, with messy hair and dark green eyes, seemed to have taken notice of Emma, and acted as if he would move towards her. A kind of panic over took Emma, not knowing where she was or what had even really happened starting to overwhelm her, when a strange kind of symphony over took her. It sounded like a piano, but when Emma spotted the piano on the far side of the room no one was playing it. There was a boy sitting at the piano, his hair gelled up and to the side to keep from getting in his eyes, but his hands were folded onto his lap as the music played.
Perhaps the boy could tell Emma was listening. He glanced over at Emma, his dark eyes a bit big, as if he had been startled, and the music instantly stopped in the middle of a measure. Emma tilted her head a bit, curious as to what it was this boy was about, but he simply turned away from her, resting his head against his hand. Emma glanced at the others once more, hoping by some great miracle she had missed the face she wanted to see most, but Logan was not in that room, and she knew that.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Chapter One - Emma
Emma Louise Hart was a girl of simple pleasures. She had long blonde hair that extended exactly three inches past her shoulders, and bangs that hung over her eyebrows, framing her face perfectly. Underneath those bangs were two eyes that would shine like sunlight through a vibrant spring leaf every time she smiled, which was quite often, actually. Emma had just turned eighteen when her and her boyfriend of two years, Logan Pierce, were on a drive home from their University. Nothing had ever gone wrong in the cushioned life of Emma Hart.
~~~
Emma woke up in a daze; beeping and murmuring echoing in her ears. She tried to open her eyes, but a bright light quickly depleted her will-power. Reaching out in her confusion, she felt a sharp tugging on her arm. Now having the motivation to open her eyes, Emma realized the tugging on her arm was a series of IV's dripping in clear fluids, and red fluids. Becoming hyper-aware of everything Emma felt as if she could feel each drip, drip, drip... constantly getting louder, constantly dripping. The putrid smell of blood and antiseptics flooded Emma's nose, and she began to choke on the metallic taste of blood upon her tongue.
Emma tried to close her eyes, to forget what it was that was happening to her, when she saw an image of a car, also dripping blood. Logan, she thought, her conscious beginning to shift. The drips began to dim, but the beeping seemed to grow louder, more panicked. Images of flashing lights, broken glass, and blood flew across Emma's mind, as if each image was on a slide show engraved upon the inside of her eyelids. She remembered the rushing of ambulances, and the people cloaked in white. They were so white, Emma could hardly think them to have been real. Tossing her head back and forth, Emma tried to rid her mind of those people in white coats, only to be reminded of a semi truck.
~~~
Emma was messing with the radio as Logan drove his old beat up 2005 Cadillac DeVille towards Emma's home. Logan's family was full of mostly dead-beats, and Logan only got out thanks to a football scholarship, but Emma's father was throwing a big Thanksgiving Day party, which Logan was so graciously invited to, although Emma was fairly certain it was to buy her affections since her father has felt guilty since he and her mother's divorce. Oddly enough, Emma never really minded the divorce, but maybe that's because she now got twice the gifts and neither of her parents were lacking in money.
Emma changed the radio to a country a station, which Logan always rolled his eyes at.
"Why must you always change it from the good message of the classics to something about red solo cups?" He complained, a mocking smirk apparent in his voice.
"Well, I just don't understand the beauty of a son telling his mother he killed someone." Emma remarked, knowing Queen was one of Logan's favorite bands. Logan always let Emma listen to what she wanted though, and she would even catch him tapping along from time to time.
Just as Emma turned up the volume, that's when she noticed the semi truck. It was going the opposite way, and even had a median separating it from our side, yet it charged through the median and went straight for the car anyway. Surely a median would have stopped a car, even a semi, if it wasn't pumping the gas pedal.... The last thing Emma clearly remembered was the odd idea that the person driving the semi was fully aware, and didn't even blink as his truck collided into her and Logan's car.
~~~
Emma woke up in a daze; beeping and murmuring echoing in her ears. She tried to open her eyes, but a bright light quickly depleted her will-power. Reaching out in her confusion, she felt a sharp tugging on her arm. Now having the motivation to open her eyes, Emma realized the tugging on her arm was a series of IV's dripping in clear fluids, and red fluids. Becoming hyper-aware of everything Emma felt as if she could feel each drip, drip, drip... constantly getting louder, constantly dripping. The putrid smell of blood and antiseptics flooded Emma's nose, and she began to choke on the metallic taste of blood upon her tongue.
Emma tried to close her eyes, to forget what it was that was happening to her, when she saw an image of a car, also dripping blood. Logan, she thought, her conscious beginning to shift. The drips began to dim, but the beeping seemed to grow louder, more panicked. Images of flashing lights, broken glass, and blood flew across Emma's mind, as if each image was on a slide show engraved upon the inside of her eyelids. She remembered the rushing of ambulances, and the people cloaked in white. They were so white, Emma could hardly think them to have been real. Tossing her head back and forth, Emma tried to rid her mind of those people in white coats, only to be reminded of a semi truck.
~~~
Emma was messing with the radio as Logan drove his old beat up 2005 Cadillac DeVille towards Emma's home. Logan's family was full of mostly dead-beats, and Logan only got out thanks to a football scholarship, but Emma's father was throwing a big Thanksgiving Day party, which Logan was so graciously invited to, although Emma was fairly certain it was to buy her affections since her father has felt guilty since he and her mother's divorce. Oddly enough, Emma never really minded the divorce, but maybe that's because she now got twice the gifts and neither of her parents were lacking in money.
Emma changed the radio to a country a station, which Logan always rolled his eyes at.
"Why must you always change it from the good message of the classics to something about red solo cups?" He complained, a mocking smirk apparent in his voice.
"Well, I just don't understand the beauty of a son telling his mother he killed someone." Emma remarked, knowing Queen was one of Logan's favorite bands. Logan always let Emma listen to what she wanted though, and she would even catch him tapping along from time to time.
Just as Emma turned up the volume, that's when she noticed the semi truck. It was going the opposite way, and even had a median separating it from our side, yet it charged through the median and went straight for the car anyway. Surely a median would have stopped a car, even a semi, if it wasn't pumping the gas pedal.... The last thing Emma clearly remembered was the odd idea that the person driving the semi was fully aware, and didn't even blink as his truck collided into her and Logan's car.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Preface
Green eyes; warm skin. Two descriptors always taken for granted.
Green... the color of money and envy. "Always be on the lookout for the green-eyed monster," they used to say; if only they knew the truth. The truth is green eyes were never something to fear. No, instead they stood for life and growth. Behind them everyone knew was the secret to goodness and contentedness, but since eyes are perilously blind to themselves they would never know of the secret they held.
Warm skin. Most people feel warm as a result of their blood pumping and heart beating. Real warmness extends beyond the expectations of the human body. To truly be warm is to melt down the frozen barriers that life extends to the broken. It's a true warmth. One touch could make the Sun feel like Pluto, casting every fear and doubt out into the unwelcoming cold, safely locked away from the warmth of a true touch.
Green eyes; warm skin. They were memories now; vivid, but past. Closed eyes; cold touch. How fitting that the room be stocked with white: the walls, the sheet, the ceiling, the floor. It was a color of purity and innocence, the kind appropriate to the life and death of an angel.
He looked at the door, white and heavy. They would come for him soon. He lifted her hand to his face, ignoring the number seared into her skin, and breathed her in.
"Be safe," He whispered.
In the distance, screaming and pounding grew closer. They'd come for him. He looked at her one last time. She looked like Sleeping Beauty, so soft and lovely. For a moment he felt the world around him pause, giving him one last glance.
Yet, the doors still broke down and bony fingers grabbed his arms. He struggled, but only half-heartedly. All he wanted was her safety and he's done the best he can.
Green... the color of money and envy. "Always be on the lookout for the green-eyed monster," they used to say; if only they knew the truth. The truth is green eyes were never something to fear. No, instead they stood for life and growth. Behind them everyone knew was the secret to goodness and contentedness, but since eyes are perilously blind to themselves they would never know of the secret they held.
Warm skin. Most people feel warm as a result of their blood pumping and heart beating. Real warmness extends beyond the expectations of the human body. To truly be warm is to melt down the frozen barriers that life extends to the broken. It's a true warmth. One touch could make the Sun feel like Pluto, casting every fear and doubt out into the unwelcoming cold, safely locked away from the warmth of a true touch.
Green eyes; warm skin. They were memories now; vivid, but past. Closed eyes; cold touch. How fitting that the room be stocked with white: the walls, the sheet, the ceiling, the floor. It was a color of purity and innocence, the kind appropriate to the life and death of an angel.
He looked at the door, white and heavy. They would come for him soon. He lifted her hand to his face, ignoring the number seared into her skin, and breathed her in.
"Be safe," He whispered.
In the distance, screaming and pounding grew closer. They'd come for him. He looked at her one last time. She looked like Sleeping Beauty, so soft and lovely. For a moment he felt the world around him pause, giving him one last glance.
Yet, the doors still broke down and bony fingers grabbed his arms. He struggled, but only half-heartedly. All he wanted was her safety and he's done the best he can.
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