Smothering. She was smothering. Yards and yards and miles and miles of...pink. Sweeping and flowing and covering and...it was everywhere.
On the walls, on the furniture, in the closet, from sea to shining, shiny sea. With no escape.
Pink of every imagining: fuchsia and blush and rose and...okay, that one could only be labeled Pepto.
Everything and everywhere, and oh god, she was going to just die from it all, be overwhelmed by the pink, have it choke her and smother her. Cut off her air. That's what it would do, cut off her air, take away the ability to breathe, because really, that much pink was just suffocating.
Why? Where had it all come from? How could a person possibly amass so much pink, especially in one location? The rug, the blanket, scarves and jewelry and, oh god, even the clock.
Her signature color, bright and cheerful and painfully...young. Little girl. Trapped in the past, unwilling to let go.
That's what her signature said really. Little girl, not yet grown up. Always going to need to be taken care of. Innocent and sweet, not the kind of girl who knows how to go out and just be.
The sickly, sticky, cotton candy that rots your teeth pink, time for it to go. Time to find something all new, something signature of a different kind. Something that says something more than little girl lost.
Something...dangerous. Tempting. Something not pink. Something...
Maybe something in green.
Also, why not join
Level Three, the Smallville all-fic list?