I woke up to darkness. Opening my eyes didn't help, my lack of sight remained the same. I was incredibly sore, but my body was filled with a tingly sensation as if all of my limbs had fallen asleep. My thoughts were fuzzy, I couldn't really connect the events after when I had opened the box in the hallway at Heat. Carefully, I tried to stretch my arms out to loosen the kinks. I couldn't move. I attempted to move my legs and got the same results. My heart began t pound as I realized I was tied into some sort of contraption . My mind began to focus, though I still had no clue how I had gotten to wherever I was. I tried to move one last time to no avail, then I opened my mouth to scream. I didn't know where I was, who had taken me, or even if I had been raped...was screaming a good idea? I closed my mouth and deliberated it for a few moments. I could feel tears pouring down my face, but the terror-induced adrenaline in my body made me want to take action instead of mope. What in the hell could I do? Would my kidnapper come back for me? Without meaning to, I cried, "Oh God!"

Then I realized I wouldn't have been able to shout, even if I had wanted to. My voice was hoarse. I must have been gone for awhile then because my throat was really dry.

"There's no such thing as God here," another voice rasped. It was low and male, and near me! I was about to attempt another scream at that moment when he continued, "Don't scream! I'm not the one who took you here." It sounded like his voice was to my left, maybe about ten feet away. It almost sounded like he was above me, but how would that be possible? Where the fuck was I? "It's best not to attempt any movement," he murmured. His voice sounded youngish, maybe mid to late twenties and with a slight accent, though I didn't know what it was.

"Who are you? Where am I?" I hissed. My throat was so dry that whispering managed to burn it. I heard him sigh.

" I don't know how long I've been here. I imagine if this place has a name, it'd be hell."

My tears began to come faster. His words scared the crap out of me, as did the fact that we were in a pitch black room and I couldn't move my body. I realized he was probably a victim like like me, but I couldn't stop from panting, "Why are we here? Am I going to die?"

He paused, and the only sound was me crying. The darkness felt so heavy, like weights had literally been put over my head. My tears wouldn't stop. Finally he coughed then said, "If you don't please him, you'll die. Do whatever he says, and do it perfectly."

"What do you mean?" I whimpered. I closed my eyes and desperately listened to his warm, raspy voice.

He sounded apologetic when he answered, "I can't explain it well. He's an-" His voice was sharply cut off. The darkness was suddenly pierced by a fierce and blazing white light. I gasped and immediately shut my eyes, which squeezed out the last of the tears. When I felt I could open my eyes without blinding myself, I did. I wasn't ready for what I saw.

There was a reason I couldn't move. It was like I was attached to some sort of wiring, like a doll set up in a toy house. Because of the wiring, it was like I was locked standing up with my back craning forward a bit and my arms pulled straight ahead of me, with a slight bend in the elbows and my fingers extending upwards. I was dressed in some sort of elaborate gown that looked like it was straight out of the nineteenth century. From what I could see, it was dark purple silk with creamy lace and pearls. I couldn't turn my head to check, but I could feel the weight of a heavy bustle against my back.

The floor around my wired body was a rich, dark wood. There were velvet curtains the color of blood with golden tassels all around me. Right when my eyes locked on some to my left, they parted to reveal girls. It was sickening and I wanted to throw up, though there was nothing in my stomach. The girls were dressed in tutu's and lace, their hair done up in curly buns and their feet clad in ballet slippers. They were wired in positions of synchronized dance. Their faces were molded into expressions of extreme concentration and enjoyment. They were horrifyingly beautiful – the perfect ballerinas. I couldn't turn my head, being so intensely wired, but my eyes slowly moved to my right. The curtains parted again to reveal more ghastly dancers. Were they dummies? Or where they like me, wired and unable to move? But if they were alive, how could they always maintain that expression and be standing en-pointe? I decided that they were some sort of sick mannequins. Then I realized that I was smack-dab in the center of the dancers. I craned my eyes to the space right in front of me.

There were little ramparts, lit and glistening, at the end of the wooden floor. Why did it all look so familiar? I closed my eyes, then opened them, focusing on the silk of my heavy ballgown. Suddenly, it hit me. I was on a stage! Not a normal one, but like an old-fashioned thing. The dancers, my gown, the ramparts, the way my body was wired into that weird position – it was an opera stage! I was in the center, dressed like the prima donna.