A smattering of the most sanguine blood one could imagine was splattered over the wall, in a manner that screamed 'suffering'. A lone light swayed in the distance, and the door creaked slowly on its hinges. Someone had been here.
A brunette head slowly rose off of the floor. Its eyes slowly blinked, and widened, followed by a second, incredulous blink. The body attached to that head rose up sharply, with an air of pure, unadulterated fear, and the mouth let out an ear-extirpating scream.
The scream awoke another member of the room, an ageing blonde woman, with the elegant prowess of the 18th century French aristocracy. This mysterious femme sat up slowly, glancing wistfully at her surroundings, and her jaw dropped. She was looking at her hands. The same dainty, manicured hands as they were twelve hours previously, but only now, they were covered in crystalline, coagulated blood.
The brunette stood up, and took a step back, to truly assess the severity of the situation she had found herself stuck in with gay abandon. Surveying the room she found herself in, she saw that it was a replica of a room she recognised...
"The love dungeon!" she declared audibly, only to make sure that she wasn't dreaming.
The blonde looked up at the brunette, as if she had been called. Instantly, she felt a feeling of malignity towards the recent orator.
"You?" the blonde screamed, with all the distaste she could muster.
"Oh. My. God." The brunette replied, with equally unequivocal disgust.
"Slater, you old dog! What are you doing in my room?" the blonde demanded.
"You're dead!" Slater replied.
"You went to Harvard, Wilhelmina my dear. Surely you should be able to tell that I am quite obviously not 'en mort'?" the blonde snapped, losing her patience.
"Well. I guess it really is you. What happened?" Wilhelmina inquired, intrigued with the woman presented to her.
"I was kidnapped, by an awful girl. I was locked in her cellar, and have been there since." She replied. "Well, at least until before I was dragged here."
"Fey, I don't know where we are, but I swear, on my sable coat, that I will not try to destroy you, as long as you stop this joke and let me out."
"Willie, I have no idea where we are, but even if I did, it really doesn't matter." Fey replied.
"May I ask why?" Wilhelmina snapped.
Fey gestured wistfully upwards, and Wilhelmina's eyes followed, finishing with a focus on a mirrored ceiling, in which they could see the quincunx of people they were stuck with.
They both let out a gasp of disgust, and fainted.