The Dragon of Life | Akatsuki no Yona Fanfiction |

1 | White

       
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The room they kept me in was white.

            The walls, the ceiling, and even the floors; all of them were completely white.

            There was a small bed in the corner of the room. White blankets and pillows were haphazardly strewn across it. The simple dresses they provided for me were white. Sometimes they were adorned with white sashes.

            The only aspect of the room that kept me from losing my sanity was the large floor-to-ceiling window that was centered on the wall furthest away from the only door.

            It was a one-sided window. I could see out of it, and no one could see in.

            My world was colorless, quiet, and uneventful.

            It always confused me as to why they went through all the trouble of making that room white . . . In my eyes, white was such a cold color. Instead of filling one with warmth, it seemed to suck every ounce of life out of you until you were nothing but an empty shell.

            White was an unforgiving color. The purity of it was only a sick manifested illusion.

            To me, it was a color that made you realize just how filthy you truly were.

            If I were given the opportunity to change something about that room, I would've wanted to paint the walls pink, much like the color of my own hair.

            The only colorful things in the room were my untamable light-pink hair and my capriciously blue eyes. Out of all the traits I loathed about myself, my eyes and my hair were the ones I disliked the least. For reasons beyond my control, my vision was abnormally sharp. I could spot the tiniest of things from great distances away. Every now and then I felt like I could almost see through certain things, but I easily brushed that off as one of the many atypical characteristics about myself.

            My perception was only one of the weird abilities they had told me about.

            I didn't really know who 'they' were. Despite knowing practically everything about myself, they revealed nothing about themselves to me. If I had to delineate their role in my life, I'd say that they were the ones who watched over me from the shadows of the village.

            Strangers. I saw them as complete strangers.

            I'd never seen them in person before, I'd never heard their actual voices, and I'd never bothered to reach out to them in any mental or physical way. But even in the face of our obvious lack of interaction, they were the ones who told me what I could and could not do . . . And I listened to them without question.

            I hate them, a quiet voice roared in the back of my head, soft yet spiteful. I hate the things they tell me about myself. I'd much rather remain oblivious to it all.

           They also told me that pink hair was a curse, and that ungodly things would happen if I ever went outside. So, naturally, I never fancied the idea of doing so. It wasn't like I had much choice in the matter. The door was always locked from the outside. But I suppose that was an inevitable arrangement that would never change.

          Theoretically, I wasn't supposed to exist. They said that I was a flaw in the system- an utter fluke that should've perished the moment I took my first breath . . .