She knows- the smile may be soft but the gleam in his eyes is sharp. Familiar, too, and she knows that there is no chance of stopping him, but has there ever been? No, and the arm at her waist might as well be meant to strangle her; her fate is sealed. Sentiments and empty hopes collect in her throat and fall off her tongue faster than she can make sense of them.

She is going to die here.

A few more steps and all coherent speech is lost. Her intellect, her wit, all that she was praised for has left her. She has succumbed to the only form of insanity society tolerates, and what an awful thing it is! she thinks. But she lies- the dance is slow and intoxicating, and she knows she has wanted this all along.

She can feel a girlish blush- no, heat, heat from fire on her face. The music is ending, she knows it well and it will crescendo then stop as soon as it began- she thinks he told her this with his eyes. Some would say she did not listen, but had he told her to do anything? No, and the arm is gone now- it must have squeezed her so tight to disappear, and she knows he meant to suffocate her; she can no longer breathe. She ceases her babbling only to yell, desperate, but not for help. She just wants the music to go on. Just one more beat- screeching, horrid- to accompany her dance, and once more for her partner to accompany her.