She looked around. She was on a white bed in a white room. She was wearing a white nightgown. She hated white. It was the colour of innocence. It was a colour of wisdom and peace. She hated it. She hadn't been innocent for years and she hadn't had peace either. She loved red better. It was a familiar warm color. One she had gotten used to after time.

In the corner there was a mirror. She got up off the bed and went to it. In her hair was a white ribbon. She hated white. She loved red better. Red was the color of fire and blood. It was a familiar warm color. One she had gotten used to after time.

She reached up and ripped the ribbon out of her white blonde hair. She hated white. She loved red better. It was the color of war and pain. It was a familiar warm color. One she had gotten used to after time.

She wrapped the cloth around her hand and punched the mirror. It shattered. Finally there was some red. She used it to cover up the white. She hated white. She loved red better. It was a familiar warm color. One she had gotten used to after time.

She covered the walls and the bed and the nightgown until all the room was red. She sat down happy. It was finally a comfortable place. She loved red the best. It was a warm comfortable colour. One she had gotten used to over time.