A/N: Please R&R. NO FLAMES! Constructive critisism welcome. Thanks.

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The blackness of the night's wounds blinded those with incompetence and ignorance of

truth. A torrent of rain surrounded the assumed deserted block. A flash of white momentarily lit

up the streets before concealing itself once more. The sign that read, "Welcome to Coulon" lied in

solitude, though alongside the weeping willow. But the tree carefully arched across the

welcoming note, as if leaning on it for moral support, and buried the sign's sight within the

moaning branches. Night after night the two had mourned exclusively, but this night was

different...

Beyond the first twinkle of starlight, two small icons of light grew nearer and nearer.

They cut through the darkness like a dagger thrusting toward an enemy in desperation. The lurid

creature drew closer by the second, and once it had reached a position alongside the willow and

the notice, it halted abruptly. A dirty car window rolled down patiently, revealing the contents of

this mechanical being. A young face with lips twisted in frustration and eyes beaming with

confusion peered into the willow's fair branches. Loose, gentle waves protruded thoughtfully from

the scalp and easily fell down to the shoulders. Warm cheeks glowed with a tinge of crimson,

hazel eyes still focusing on the sign.

"Welcome to Coulon", the sign announced without a word spoken. The window rose

once more and the mechanical beast continued along down the highway, the pair of luminous

circles guiding the way. Within an hour, the vehicle had reached it's true destination. As before,

the window gently fell to the bottom of the frame. The same eyes (almost opaque at times)

glanced about here and there. Without a second thought, the automobile was placed into park

and the door hesitantly swung open. An anxious foot dressed in a pale purple stiletto realized

itself from the car. The rest of the body, attired in the same cautious color as the shoes, followed.

The door was shut and locked.

With a shaky sensation, the girl forced each step to continue forward. She halted

outside the foot of an aged door. Old, but utterly stunning nonetheless. The building reached an

incredible height, poking the tips of itself deep into the sky. Amazed eyes traced the edges of the

building, disbelieving it's aestheticness. How gorgeous, how mysterious. After knocking ever so

softly on the door, the young woman ran her long fingers through her blonde curls and waves,

yawning slightly as she did so. Then, as if on que, the door spread open to reveal it's contents.

In the doorway, a skittish man stood in self-contained interest of the distinguished

woman before him. Hollow eyes that seemed to reach on forever scanned through every aspect of

her, untidy gray tufts of hair stuck out this way and that. His odd fascination in the creature that

stood in discomfort before him was indeed beyond average standards. A full, inaudible moment

passed before his cold, dry lips decided to speak.

"Miss Angelina Jones, I presume?"

The two sets of extremely contrasting eyes met in cold anticipation. Unfolding pain

vowed to remain hidden behind the sheets of safety covering the pupils.

"Yes," she answered, barely a whisper.

"As I suspected," he said in his pettiness. "Come in and we'll find your room."

"Thank you," Angelina said in false appreciation, as she handed him a set of dangling keys.

Soft purple stilettos lead the way inside. One lip descended the moment that the hazel

eyes intook the scene ahead of them; Beautiful red carpets the color of deep red lips, walls of

gentle tan, and ceilings (yes, more than one ceiling) of merging tan and white. The carpets

stretched their bodies up the lovely constructed staircase, but halted in one corner of the room

that bared an elevator (most likely in the sense that one would prefer not to climb so many

stairs).

"Room 557," said a voice behind her.

With a start, the woman known as Angelina spun on her heel. She looked back at the

strange old man holding her keys out to her, and her luggage over his limp shoulders.

"Thank you," she repeated as she had earlier, the same fake coating of values.

Reluctantly, a long finger pushed the elevator's button, icy and frozen to the touch. A

metal door pulled itself open and the two stepped inside. A strange emotion began enveloping

Anagelina, covering her in a secrete mist of irritation.

"Colton," a toneless voice spat out from beside her.

"Pardon me?" she asked, confusion and slight fear shooting through her stiffening nerves.

"My name is Colton."

"Yes, well..." she began. Began, but did not finish. There was no ending for the

sentence.

As the elevator halted in frustration upon the fifty first floor, Angelina had an urge to

dash madly for her room, not wanting to be near Colton. But Colton had not only her two bags of

luggage resting upon his shoulders, but her room key secured in his left hand. Together they

walked toward the middle of the hallway. The footsteps fell all at different times, as if there was a

ballet dancer and a jazz dancer moving right next to each other while listening to different tunes,

flowing to opposite beats.

"Here's your key Miss Jones," explained the toneless voice.

"Thank you," she replied for a third time, hurriedly forcing the key into the lock as

Colton dropped her bags in front of her door.

One set of footsteps swept neatly into the room, the sound of heavy baggage trailing

behind her. She gasped as she locked the door once more for reassurance and spun around to

view her room. Never before had she seen such a place; Large with a king size bed and lamps

that turn on and off by the mere touch of the hand. Pure white drapes hung over the bed itself, and

velvet curtains adorned the stained glass door leading to the balcony...

The balcony! Yes, a breathtaking view from so high up. Tiny lights could be seen in all

directions, giving the effect of looking down at the stars from Heaven. The sweet sensation of their

twinkling made Angelina's insides burn with astonishment. As she rotated back toward the bed,

she noticed a ravishing gown lightly laying across her bed. It seemed to cry her name in

desperation, tempting her madly to try it on. Alongside the beautiful gown was a note written in

red pen that appeared to have exploded as it dripped down the paper. Not wanting the deep red

dress or the pure white bedspread to stain, Angelina rushed the note to the bathroom sink to read

over it's contents:

Angelina;

This dress is my gift to you. I want you to attend the party in the basement wearing it.

I've sent someone up to tend to your needs at 9:00 tonight. See you at the party.

Struck by a wave of interest, Angelina couldn't help but notice two things; One, the note

was not signed. Two, her clock read, "9:01". Perhaps this person was horridly mistaken...The

party in the basement was surely limited as to who they chose to attend. Only those with much

wealth could afford to go. A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Angelina unlocked and

opened the door. A pretty woman with gleaming green eyes, chocolate brown hair, and the face of

a model stood smiling in front of her.

"I'm so sorry that I'm late," she apologized. "We'll have to get right to work."

"Umm... To work, Madame?" Angelina asked in utmost confusion.

"Well of course! You really must be getting to that party soon and you're not even close

to ready!" she shrieked. "Now let's make up for lost time and get you into that dress. I'll wait here

so I can do your hair."

"I.. Uh.."

"Hurry! You mustn't be late!" the woman scolded.

Baffled and uncertain, Angelina did as told. Grabbing the dress, she hauled herself into

the bathroom and locked the door. She stared into the mirror in a heart-fallen manner as she

realized that the color would not suit her... Red was an okay color on her, but it would never

accent her physical features; Her small breasts, her pale skin, her odd curves which refused to

show themselves. Nonetheless, she heaved herself into the dress and walked in a daze back to

the woman awaiting her return. Not a word spoken, she got straight to work...Splashing make up

on here, setting strands of hair there. When she was through, Angelina gazed into the mirror.

At first she did not recognize herself. This looked nothing like her in any way. The

woman in the mirror looked... well, stunning. Her lips were the perfect shade of unlit red, her hair

was pulled up at the sides and styled at the back, and the natural blend of make up softened her

face to make the gown to look as if it was made just for her!

"Well, what do you think? Are you satisfied?" the woman asked kindly, a sweet smile in

her lips.

Unable to speak, Angelina nodded in astounded conception.

"Oh my God," she finally squeaked. "Thank you so much, Madame!"

"Kristy. Please, call me Kristy," the woman said. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other, Angelina, so you might as well learn my name."

Angelina did not comprehend anything that Kristy said. Instead she watched Kristy

wave slightly and waltzed out of the room, a satisfied glide to her step. Then, Angelina grabbed

her purse, locked the door and left for the party.

The basement was covered in gorgeous bands of color, giving the instinct that Angelina

was a princess going to a grand ball. Everybody was covered in flowing gowns and fitting suits,

laughing at dignified jokes and talking in a pleasant manner. But the most extraordinary detail

was most definitely the attention that Angelina received the moment she stepped into the

basement. Everything stopped... The music, the conversations, and the hearts of those jealous,

and of those with pure intentions.

"She's gorgeous," a voice whispered.

"Stunning!" called another.

Soon, the entire room was filled with the excited jabbering of admiring (and envious)

voices. There was at least a lapse of five full minutes where time seemed to stop and adore

Angelina. Finally, the music continued and conversations shifted, but many men approached her

in this time. She danced for hours and was in complete bliss and felicity. At about 11:00,

Angelina decided to push past the mannered people and stand outside a moment. She was not

sure why. In fact, she had been having a wondrous time being mauled and passed around by

each man in the room. Nevertheless, she headed outside.

Her skin was heated and burning. The night air was cooling, as ice on a open wound.

So prefect... True perfection surely had found her, and she wanted nothing more than to keep it

that way. But suddenly all was not perfect.

A presence was near her, she could feel it as her muscles locked. Unable to move, she

could feel it come closer, closer. A cold, gentle hand rested itself upon her exposed shoulder,

and Angelina did not dare move.

"There you are mon charmant celui," called an alluring voice. "I have been searching for

you all night..."