There was a day, a long time ago, when Emma had a love for colors, especially the bright ones. Her closet was full of bright shades of hoodies and colored pants. Her mother use to tell her she dressed like she was still five, but Emma would give her a mom a look that said, "you got a divorce, being five makes me happy." And her mother would just shrug and give Emma a small smile of bright red lipstick. Emma never told her mother, but wearing bright colors made her feel closer to her mother, especially after she had gotten remarried, and the distance was furthered with Emma leaving for college.
"I have a surprise." Logan whispered, pulling Emma out of bed.
"What are you doing here? It's against the rules." Emma yawned, rolling out of her dorm room bed and pulling on a jacket over her tank top. Glancing at her clock, Emma noticed it was six in the morning and groaned.
Logan held a finger to his lips, motioned at Emma's still sleeping roommate, and began leading her down the stairs and out of her dormitory. After walking quickly across the quad, Logan pulled out a piece of paper and punch in some numbers on an old art building that was being renovated this coming spring. The door gave a click, and Logan pulled the door open. Once inside, Logan had Emma close her eyes, and he slowly led her into a room, and, after closing the door, said, "Okay, you can open them now."
Emma opened her eyes and looked about the room. Everything was white, the floor, the walls, the ceiling. "You woke me up early to see a white room?" She asked.
"Nope." Logan smiled, stepping to the side. "I brought you here to paint." Behind Logan were trays filled with bright colors of paint, and no paint brushes.
"What are we painting with?" She asked, hiding a smile behind her hand.
"With our hands of course!" He exclaimed, tossing a blue hand at Emma's face.
Emma squealed, trying to get back at Logan with some green paint, and together in the early hours of the morning, they painted.
~~~
"What are you doing, five?" The blonde woman growled, clutching Emma's wrist, and pulling her away from a small white table.
Emma stared at the woman, not understanding why she was getting in trouble until she noticed her hand was covered in gray paint, and on the table Emma realized she had covered a piece of paper, and part of the table, in black, gray, and white paint without using a paintbrush. "I don't know." Emma said, looking at the woman with a look that said, "I know you think you have power over me, but your grip sucks."
The woman dropped her hand, and squinted her eyes at Emma. "Wash up."
Emma watched the woman go, and then went to wash her hands at the small white sink that sat on the wall adjacent to the row of white folding chairs. As she rinsed her hands, Emma glanced about the room, but everyone was doing their usual thing: Travis sitting in a corner, Raven on the couch, Chandler leaning against the couch by Raven's feet reading a book, and Jason, laying his head on the piano, no doubt tired from lack of sleep. Then there was Logan, sitting on the far end of the row of chairs, his fingers seeming to clutch his knee as his knuckles turned a pale color. For a moment, Emma thought maybe, just maybe, he had remembered the memory too, but only for a moment. Logan stretched, kicked up his feet on another chair, and picked up a copy of martial art demonstrations. Turning the water off, Emma moved to go back to the table and destroy her weird painting, but was interrupted by the beeping and opening of doors. Turning around Emma saw an older man, dressed in the usual white and using one hand to rub his graying hair and a thick beard, the other hand ushering in a small Chinese girl, about maybe thirteen or fourteen.
The man left, and the girl instantly went to shake hands with Logan, allowing Emma to spot the "8" on her hand. After they shook hands, the girl sat next to Logan, glanced at the rest of them, but made no effort to greet them. Emma's brow furrowed as she looked at the girl. She seemed so small, but when looking at her all Emma could get was that her name was Mora, and that Mora knew that she and Logan were of a more superior breed than the five of them.
Emma looked at Jason, who was alert now. With hands still dripping from the water, She looked at Jason with an almost desperate feeling in her stomach. Jason looked back at her, and seemed to battle with himself for a moment before Emma felt him saying to her, "We're not safe here."
