Syra sat in a chair surrounded by the walls of a dark and presumeably very fancy room. She looked as if she was the same as she had always been since it happened; she was exactly as she had always been. Her back was striaght as the chair spine close behind her. Unlike before when she wore only a bathrobe, she looked very nice regardless of the fact she was kidnapped. Her hair was tied in an intricate style that pulled on the powdered covered skin of her emotionless face. She wore jewelry for the first time in a long time. Her small, delicate feet were bare. Her legs and arms were relishing in the silkin, deep purple, tightly fited dress surrounding her. The necklace she wore felt as if it were radiating some kind of fluid, surounding her, like a force feild. It penetrated, consumed, bound and mesmerised her weak body. She was tied down; tied down to the thick, black, cold, slimy and all consuming emptiness that had always enslaved her. It trapped her like thick metal bars that held her like an animal on display inside a zoo.
But dispite of all these scary, evil, horrid, uncomfortable, and painful feelings, Syra could not move. She could not move anything, not even a muscle. She could feel the terrible feelings, but what was inside of most of us if we feel like this to walk away or scream or writh in pain was not in Syra anymore. It was sucked out of her along with the thoughts, will, resistance, pride and memories. She never knew who her creater/master was. She didn't even know who she was. She only knew that she was no longer Syra. She never was ever since it happened. What happened? She didn't even know what was going on. She could not think clearly; she could not think at all. She knew she had to obey. But who? The skin around the nacklace began to redden and sore until it began to also numb her.
Suddenly, the light flicked on, hurting Syra's eyes as the door swung open, creating a loud shreak that would have made Syra cringe if she had the possibility. The person or thing was not in plain sight of Syra's clouded eyes yet and this frightened her. In came the sounds of walking, as if the person was wearing high heels on a wood floor. She also heared whispers and curses under the womans breathe that Syra could not make out in her state. Then, the woman swirled in front of Syra, startled in her. The woman then walked to a chair, took it in her grip, and set it in front of the weak child spiritually strapped to the chair. She sat down, shkaing her head in pretend disgust and sweeping a peice of bang from her "doll's" forehead.
"Oh honey" The woman's voice sounded like snakes, eeiry and gross, smoothly slithering across piles of rocks that were the woman's vocal chords.
"How are you doing? I know your a little confused. Well, why lie, you must be terrified! But that only makes it better, sweetie. Don't you see, you're going to help me do something very important. I need...well...oh...I need a simple little helper. Like a helpful...uhh...um...like a mirror. I just need you to look back on and see what I am doing right and wrong in our little project. How do you like that? All I need is you to tell me everything I need and give me your obedient. Then I will let you go, Okay?"
She stood up and paced around for a bit. Then, asuming a much ruder, more impatient tone."now," She squaked "tell me, where is your sister, Mora Ana. I wanted her then and I want her now. Tell me where she is!" Her sister, Mora Ana? Syra had not seen her since it happened even though she had heared her voice for many times. She never thought she would see her sister again. How would she know where Mora Ana was? Syra didn't know what to say. But suddenly, her mouth started to move "she is in the road, coming here. She want to help me." Her voice sounded flat, lifeless. It did not sound like hers. "What is her favorite fruit, tell me!" This time, Syra's mouth siad it before Syra could even remember. "Apples" came out of the mouth of Syra, the girl being treated as a puppet, she was a puppet. This tortured her as she automatically followed the woman's lead. She was a slave and she was helpless, just like always. The next day, after Syra spent the night siting in the chair, doing nothing else, she was taken to a resterant.