He had experienced RED before. It was a feeling that most people were commonly getting in trouble for. The feeling of anger that simply sweeps you up in its arms and showers you with kisses of fury. There were different kinds of RED. So many that he wondered if he's felt them all already.

He wanted to detail this color and emotion out as well, he wanted to break it down and make sure that he could brush it against his blank canvas to create a masterpiece yet the red he was feeling wasn't at someone, it wasn't targeted at a specific person much more than it was at himself. You see, as he's dealt with black, white, and even grey, RED was the leader of the color club within his mind. It was the leader of the dark color club that resided within a part of his mindset.

He hated RED for it seemed to pool around his soul, it was contaminating his very life by just being there. It oozes from his conscious, splattering itself upon every wall of his mind until all that's left is a hot RED. RED is nothing like white, Black or grey. It was different, so different. The color was as HOT as a pepper, it was as LIGHT as air, the taste was like FIRE in your mouth. He wondered how one would deal with red, would they let their anger control them? Would they possibly counter attack with another color? He had no real idea and often times, the ideas were all mixed up, incomprehensible beyond belief.

Red was like a fiery liquid that slips down your throat and into your heart, it burns your throat on the way down and once it reaches your heart, it burns your bloodstream until all you can think and see about is RED.

The white ceiling made him feel nauseous, transparent color that was slowly flooding into his bloodstream was making him feel cold. The coldness was almost grey yet he knew better, that the grey was still nesting and that it had let Red take control. He breathed in through his nose, scrunching it up as his eyes flickered towards the white door with distaste. He hated white yet no matter what he did, he was stuck within it.

White lungs

Black heart

Grey blood

RED—

The boy's body jolted slightly, white filling up his lungs for the second or third time that afternoon. He parted open his lips yet no colors came out, only burning red coughs. His vision was hazy, merged together like the colors on his canvas—He missed holding a brush, he missed dipping it within the bucket of color and painting out his feelings. The red kept burning his throat, like alcohol yet much more stronger.

A voice resounded across the room, it was deep and resembled that of a grown man. The boy felt his red, burning coughs subside into a much more calmer state before White emerged into control again. He felt almost numb, as if he was floating in space. He liked white, if only to stop the burning pain that Red flooded through his veins.

Everything was still for a moment, but just a moment. Hot and burning RED invaded his veins, he choked, kicked and let out strangled noises that couldn't be identified as human.

His vision was going hazy again, the burning red coursing through his veins like wildfire. He heard voices but they were all jumbled up, he heard mumbles but they were all gibberish speak to him.

He was beginning to feel white again.

For once in his life, the boy embraced the color, eyes becoming black. He felt his body lose all its tension, become as numb and as soft as a feather. He was white again but not for long.

RED is the burning fire that we feel in our anger so be a good lad and try to feel WHITE.

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Author's note? Nah, sorry that this chapter doesn't really detail Red that much mainly because as you can see, the character is in a hospital and although you might say that Red can be felt in a hospital, you do have to remind yourself that he doesn't have the feeling to be Red if that makes any sense. Anyways, comment your explanations on what happened so far! I would love to hear them.