I looked around at the faces staring down at me, most laughing and others giving me a look as if they had been expecting something from me, but I had disappointed them. I closed my eyes and turned my head down, hoping that when I opened them I would be somewhere else. Reality is a cruel thing. I looked down at the dress I had been outfitted, it was a royal blue color with a tight bodice, the sleeves were short and puffy with red ribbons on the bottom. The bottom part of the dress was a typical tutu, that sparkled when I twirled. The print on the dress was strange, a misshapen pattern of intricate black skulls and blood red apples, giving it an awkward kid-themed vibe, yet mixed with death. My royal blue ballet shoes were worn and tattered,and my ankle, I knew, was sprained. I tenderly touched it and hissed as the pain shot through my leg.

I slowly crawled to the bars of the metal cage I was in. The oxidation of the metal making parts of the bars rusty, and the cage was an intoxicating scent of metallic blood, making my body tremble with chills. How did I even end up here? I tried to recall what happened, but I couldn't remember much, almost as if the more time I was trapped here, the more I forgot. Forgot what, I don't even remember anymore. It must have been important. As I tried to remember what was so important, the soft sound of a piano melody caused me to flinch. I immediately sat upright and looked around trying to find where the sound was coming from.

However, more and more people began to crowd around me, limiting my view outside my cage. I moved away from the bars as more people crowded around the cage, almost as if to suffocate me. They began talking excessively, yet for some reason it seemed inaudible. No, I could hear them, but what they were actually saying seemed like nonsense. From their manner of speaking and how eager they seemed, they had come here for a show. To them I was nothing more than meaningless entertainment, unworthy of any emotion other than excitement or disappointment. I needed to get out of here, and while I knew nothing of where I was, I did know one thing. The piano wasn't merely there for show. It was a clock of sorts, meant as a way to tell the time. Someone had to be playing it, and if only I could find a way to signal them, they might at least give me clues to where I am. Maybe there was still hope, maybe I can get out!