She awoke blindfolded; bound in the tight grasp of chains. The chair was frigid and unforgiving against the light skin of her forearms. Trying to struggle, she moved no more than a mere inch from the back of the steel chair. The eerie silence of the room hung in the air as the darkness of the room's corners escaped the threatening light from the bulb above. An insufferable sensation came over her mind, as she knew torturous suffering was to become of her, though the sheer thought of this was torturous all on its own. Beneath the blindfold, her dark azure eyes broadened as the door cried out in its opening and disturbed the blank soundlessness of the small room.
A glowing light peaked lightly from behind the thick cloth as the blurred shape of a figure entered her impeded line of sight. Her stifled cries for help sounded no louder than a distant echo in her ears as she found that her calls were no more than a whimper silenced by the lingering sulfurous air. Soft footsteps came to a halt before her as she writhed and wriggled in her binds, an iciness running throughout her entire being, and seeming to reach down to touch her very soul.
A lurid laugh echoed within the capacity of the small room as the luster of the darkness shimmered within the walls which held her to her fate. The looming pressure of fear oppressed her and she felt a munificent desire to slip with a stealthy step into the cavity of her mind and never return from its depths. A hard impression lain upon her by impassive eyes and she began to wail once more.
A small graze from the tip of a finger was felt upon her cheek for a fragment of a second before the cloth was removed from her eyes and her vision unaltered by it. Her head bowed as she evaded the eyes of the monstrosity that held her in this chamber that held death's icy grasp around it. A voluminous hand slipped under her chin and gently inclined her head.
She drew her eyes closed and pulled her chin from his unpropitious grasp. His hand held the side of her face as a low laugh came from the depths of his throat. "Come now, Jane. Look upon the man who is to turn you into something great. Look upon your creator." His impressible voice held behind it a specious charm, but Jane kept her eyes to the floor. "I need not be turned into something 'great'. I'd rather be me than 'great'," Jane said bleakly. She was exasperated at the thought that he was turning her into greatness. She didn't need to be great. She needed to stay existent in this world.
He began to turn her face towards him once more. "Go on; look into the face of God." She spit on the floor with great abhorrence, "You are not God. You are nothing more than a pathetic, little man." She kept her eyes to the floor and refused to peer upon such a savage. He snickered and brushed her round face with the soft, cunning hand of death. "You will look upon me and tremble in the sight of your master." She shut her eyes once more and muttered, "I have no master."
He snarled as he tore his hand from her face and walked to the far end of the small room. "You will not disobey me," he said from the remoteness of the room's edge, "I am your master and you must obey." Jane snickered and said, "I have no master. I am a person not a creature." She heard footsteps moving to her proximity. "No, but you will be." His sinister tone seemed as though he was to mutilate her.
