56

WHITE WAS A depressing color, I'd decided. It was too empty, too constricted. It wasn't the best color to be around when someone wanted to know something for certain.

The entire hospital was white, and the longer I stared, the more I thought—something I really didn't want to do now because my thoughts were my safe place no longer.

I was at the verge of losing my mind and running out of the hospital screaming when Justin finally came around the corner. He was still wearing the same clothes, although they were crumpled now. His blue eyes looked dull and tired.

"She's fine," he said hollowly. He even sounded tired. He sat down in the chair next to me, which was also frustratingly white.

The relief that flowed through me was like a drug—calming, numbing and decreasing the pressure in my chest until it was only a dull throb of dread for what I knew I had to do next.

"I need to talk to you," I said, voice low enough to not be heard by the people seated around us.

Justin sensed it—the strai