OK, i don't usually like asking people to review, but i'm a bit nervous with this story. I would love it if you could just tell me as soon as possible if I should just stop. I'd hate to have an excruciatingly bad story on my conscience! Thanks :)

Bree hung up her coat on her usual peg in the back room of the bar, the dream fading rapidly into her subconscious. She gave a quick nod of acknowledgement to the large bodyguard at the entrance, who returned it curtly, before tying the recently cleaned apron around her waist and heading to the bar area. Bryony grinned at her as she ducked under the shelf and automatically got herself a drink.

It was late afternoon, and there was hardly anyone here. But it was a Friday, bound to be packed in a few hours. Bree hummed a little under her breath, warming herself up while serving the few customers in there drinks. One by one, hour after hour, the bar began to fill.

The audience ranged from young boys of her own age (though she would never admit she was young to anyone) to old, balding, sleazy men. She winked at Carrie, who was waiting in the wings with her battered guitar, and Hope next to her, with a small tambourine. Hope waved the instrument in response, while Carrie just rolled her eyes and looked at the crowd.

I understood. 'Perv night at the Opera House.'

The night ticked by, darkness rolling in with every man sauntering past the bored bodyguard. Bree wasn't bothered in the slightest. She was used to seeing all these men trying to grope herself and her friends at any given moment. What she wasn't prepared for was the young woman standing in the corner alone, a full glass in her hands.

Although she was the most beautiful woman Bree had ever seen, there was a wide no-go zone around her. Her wild orange hair fanned about her like it was on fire, contrasting against her ghost white skin and…are her eyes red? Bree blinked hard and squinted again, but the woman had gone.

"And now, gentlemen, for your listening pleasure tonight, here is, the wonderfully talented, miss Bree Johnson!" Gary, the manager, wheezed into the microphone, signalling show-time for Bree. She ducked under the bar again, narrowly evaded some swipes for her bum, and stepped lightly onto the stage. She heard the guitar's intro from behind her, Carrie's silent ooh's harmonising with her upcoming song. Bree breathed deeply, and opened her mouth, sounding a clean sounding 'oh' from her lips.

The whole crowd fell silent, and Bree closed her eyes. This was the best part of the night for her, when the crowd remained in silent awe as she sang to them easily and beautifully. This way she could think about things, the only part of the night she could, without the pain of the memories affecting her.

She wondered what her voice sounded like to other people, as she'd always taken her gift for granted. She brought a vivid memory into her mind, when she'd asked Daniel what her voice was like. "It's like," he began, struggling for words, "it's like a bird. Stuck in a cage, and trying to break free, fluttering it's wings in frustration and stuff. That's the start of the song. Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful. And then, it's like the bird breaks free, and it soars over everything, and your voice suddenly just goes, ah!" And he punched at his chest where his heart should be, and swooned theatrically. Bree had hit him playfully over the head then, and beamed brilliantly. Her head had ballooned that day.

Bree didn't even need to think about the song anymore, she had practised and performed it so many times it was as natural as breathing. The words, the melody, the little twists and slurs she had sneaked in when making it her own were all there; in her head and in her heart.

She opened her eyes just before the end of the song, and there, right in her line of vision, was the fiery headed woman. She was right at the back, with her head cocked to one side, her teeth bared in a satisfactory sort of way. When the last note sounded, and the applause erupted, the woman began nodding to herself, and licked her lips contemplatively.

Bree bowed slightly, and smiled shyly, before jumping off the stage, the hands now reaching out for a handshake or an autograph. She retreated to the bar, while Bryony leapt over to her. "Best night so far, Bree!" She smiled, clapping her hand onto Bree's shoulder. "You could hear a pin drop, the audience were so quiet!"

Bree laughed. "Thanks, Bry, shame there were no scouts here tonight right?

"I don't know, that woman over there looked very scouty." Bryony nodded her head at the woman, as Bree peered at her again. The woman seemed to be watching the next act, but every other second her eyes would flick over in Bree's direction. Bree shuddered nervously.

"No offence, Bry, but I wouldn't go near her with a ten foot barge pole!" She said quietly, and looked away, forcing herself to keep her eyes on her shaking hands as she served the drinks.

"I'll see you tomorrow, everyone. Have a nice night!" Bree closed the door on a chorus of farewells and walked the familiar way home. She rounded the corner, coming face to face with the orange-haired woman. Bree gasped instinctively, and the woman smiled jeeringly. Bree returned the smile, and walked past, quickening her steps. The woman followed.

"You're Bree Johnson, are you not? You performed at that club tonight?" She asked, matching Bree's fast paces, as if they were too slow for her. Bree nodded slightly and tried to speed, but her legs were practically whining to slow. The woman did not seem bothered.

"My name is Victoria. Your voice is very pleasing, very inspiring. You have a gift." Bree slowed, thinking it over. If this woman was in fact a talent scout, then this woman would also be her ticket out of here, to stardom, and to recognition, where she wanted to be.

"Thank you very much, Victoria." Bree responded, forcing a smile onto her shivering lips. The woman radiating cool air into the space around her. That was probably why no one stood around her in the bar. Or perhaps there was another reason.

"I was wondering if you'd like to join me, Bree." She said, her face calculating and her words slow and thoughtful, as if she were choosing the right words to say. Bree looked into the woman's eyes. Yes. Blood-red, exactly as she had seen. "So you are a talent scout." Bree breathed, a smile playing on her lips.

Victoria threw back her head and barked laugh. Bree froze in panic, the reaction not what she was anticipating. "No, not exactly." The woman laughed, and Bree's skin crawled.

"Look, mate, I don't want to get involved in anything risky," Bree began, her Cheshire accent creeping back as she panicked, "I just want to sing, I don't want me life ruining by the likes of dodgy talent scouts." Again, Victoria laughed, and Bree picked up her pace, as if it would help.

"Unfortunately, Bree, you don't have a choice." As the words escaped the full red lips, Victoria threw Bree into a darkened alley as they passed. Bree yelped and began to scream, but Victoria's freezing hands swept over her eyes and mouth.

She tried wrestling against her, but the woman was unbelievably strong. She twisted her head, as Victoria's hand slipped from her eyes, and she saw the dumpster from her dream. Victoria's hair quickly swept into view then, and her head bent low over Bree's neck and panicking chest. She knew what was about to come next.