Marie's life was snatched away as a young man named Sebastian takes her away to a mad world riddled with darkness.
Marie blinked rapidly as she tried to get a grip on what had just happened to her, she stumbled into a nearby wall and fell into a heap against it. The blood poured out of the curve of her shoulder, the warm liquid flowed over her in feverish, scarlet waves.
Terror slammed into her stomach, twisting it into a thousand knots. I'm sixteen. Was the only thing she could muster in her mind, I'm sixteen! This... this isn't fair!
She coughed, a coppery taste passed her lips as her blood bubbled up in her throat. With a great deal of effort, Marie lifted her head and stared in horror at her attacker.
His figure was blurry through her tears, all Marie could make out was a pair of eyes which burned a thousand shades of black as they bore into her; waiting patiently for the last drop of life to drip out of her body.
Marie's body felt strangely heavy, and she fought the strangest urge to yawn. As her eyelids weighed themselves down, she took a single rattling breath which she molded into a warped single worded question, 'why?'
Her assailant didn't reply, but just shook his head and moved slowly toward her, his large bony hand reached out to slide her sleepy eyelids shut.
The pain subsided, and Marie felt as though she was floating in water. Usually she wouldn't appreciate this because she always told people the water went into her ears and made hearing things difficult for the rest of the day. But this was different, it was similar to falling into a deep slumber after having a really busy day. It was... comfortable.
Marie stirred, wrapped in several layers of cool silk; she was dimly aware that she didn't recognise the scent of the bedding. Sitting up, a dull pain throbbed from deep within her chest and she looked around. When she realised that this was not a place she knew, panic set in and nerves flipped her stomach around and around .
She had been set in the centre of a large four poster bed above which hung a heavy blue and gold velvet canopy, tied to each of the oak posts with woven ribbons. The room was simple: a single chestnut dresser which was laden with strange looking bottles, filled with strange looking liquids and a huge wardrobe with intricate designs carved into the base and doors which Marie was sure told some sort of story.
A grand window revealed a glimmer of the moon through a gap in the thick curtains.
It was night. And she, quite obviously was not dead.