The aroma of newly unfurled rose petals drifted up to her nose. Her dilated and black eyes gazed down upon the delicate blood red rose petals and relished the delightful sight of it. Nimble, pale fingers grasped tightly at the dark green stem of the flower. Thorns broke open her thin, rough skin causing drops of elegant red blood to drop from the child's tiny hand to the cruel surface on which she was standing. The girl's white sundress was spattered with drops of the thick, metallic liquid here and there contrasting the extreme paleness of everything else located within the room. Pearly, white walls had a dense fog surrounding the edges creating the illusion that the room travelled on into oblivion.

Platinum blonde hair loosely flowed down her delicate shoulder in natural curls that blended in with the fabric that made up the shoulders of her dress. Deathly white legs protruded out from underneath the figure reaching down to the hard, white ground where bare toes curled up with the touch of the cold. No windows were apparent in the room to let in the brilliant blue lightning that was striking down to earth causing chaos. The walls withheld the cracking of thunder to a degree where there was nothing but silence. There weren't any doors, just seamless white walls with smoothed surfaces acting as a trap to the one who was unfortunate enough to be trapped in there.

A lonely girl with unruly white blonde hair stood in the exact middle of the room with a bright red rise hanging down at her side with a thick trickle of blood started gathering together into the formation of a puddle burning the color red into the floor. Bangs flowed carelessly into her closing eyes that displayed a look of exhaustion, starvation, and thirst for an answer to this horrible life. Life streamed out of her by the second. Each drop of color added to the floor diminished the luminosity of the rose. No longer were the jovial petals a brilliant red, but instead were the malevolent color of death. The girl grew smaller, weaker, and more fragile with the fading of her life. Her veins were visible now, crawling up her limbs like a spider web which gave her an aged appearance. Above her body, a glowing soul stood wavering in the golden light of a new beginning as the physical part of her legend lay in a crumpled pile upon the floor. Next to her dusty heap of memories was the single rose that had closed up once again as the color turned.

No longer was the amazing stem a beautiful deep green; it was the sickening shade of a stormy gray. No longer were the young petals attached to the rose a magnificent sight; they lay dried and frail on the ground in a black mess that has been touched by death. However, the girl standing in the wavering light held the same characteristics of having washed-out blonde hair and empty black eyes carrying a delicate rose that pricked the palm of her hand. As a vicious cycle repeats itself, the girl was forced to relive the same events over again. The color drained from the rose and her body only to fall with a plop to the demanding white ground. The seamless white room, being selfish as it is, takes the life of the girl from living a normal life outside of the jail. It demands the color to be sucked from her rose and life, not being satisfied until the last drop has fallen and the room was thick in the color of blood and the scent of metal. Without a choice, the child had to face the everlasting cycle of struggling against the pain and being drained of her color until the white room decided it was time for her to be done.