Violet

It's the color of the sky. It's the color of her pulse, walking home. It's the fear radiating off of her. It's his pleasure. It's the color of her screams gasping in the night air. As the sun sets, it's the color of the atmosphere. It's the color of her lips at the "party". It's the color of her eye when she fights back. It is not the color of him. It is the color of her heels. Five inches, she can't walk in them. It's the color of her knees when she trips and falls, and again her eye when she drops his drink during an event. It is not the color of her casket, but her dress. The one she was buried in.