Her head was filled with the color. The smell of it. The feel of it. Smooth as glass. The taste. Like a flower just opening.

“Why are you doing this?” Blaithe Clemons screamed as she felt a hard thud against her stomach. The pain shot through her torso and plowed into her skull. She dug her fingers into the ground and tried to anchor herself in case she was dragged further. Blaithe smelled the last leaves of fall rotting on the ground. And cotton candy. Pink and sticky and sweet. Around her were clouds hanging in the air. Clouds in a long line stretching in front of her. Hours of the day. Days of the week. Weeks of the year. All stretching in a line of yellow clouds in front of her. All leading to this moment.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Blaithe swallowed and tasted blood.

No one answered.

Blaithe expected to feel a fist next. Or feet kicking her stomach. She expected every possible act of violence her young brain could conjure. Except what she got.

Cold, empty darkness. 

And a brilliant flood of indigo.

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