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"Twinkle, twinkle, little star..."
A woman sang the words. Noir felt the inky darkness of unconsciousness lying over him.
He opened his eyes, but just barely. Confused, Noir tried to get up. There were still gunshots going off in the distance. Gary and Larry's corpses had been taken off the couch.
A soft hand brushed his hair.
"Elle?" Then Noir blacked out again.
"How I wonder what you are."
Noir woke up again, he didn't know how long later, but couldn't manage the strength to open his eyes. He could hear her voice, still singing the words as something carried him. His leg still throbbed with pain, blood still gushing out.
Noir knew that that should've worried him. The blood loss, the pain, the wound in his leg. He didn't care. He didn't know what was happening.
"Elle, I missed you." He said to his delirium.
The woman shushed him. Then darkness washed over Noir again.
"Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky." The woman's voice had a nice quality to it. Noir just let it flow over him. He didn't dream, he just heard the lullaby. He felt content.
Noir woke up on a bed. A soft bed, warm. He felt sore. He managed to get his eyes open, but the rest of his body didn't want to move. He'd been left lying on his side, his wounded leg propped up on some pillows. It gotten swollen, but a thick set of bandages covered his wound. Noir didn't see any of his blood near the bed.
There was blood though. All over the place.
He'd woken up in a large bedroom. But it was covered in softer, cooler pastels. Noir saw photos of a young woman in various dresses smiling. And bloodstains covering the soft green walls, all depicting drawings.
Stick figures of various kinds. Each was being mutilated. Hearts and butterflies also covered the walls, watching the series of stick figure torture scenes.
Noir's nose snarled at the smell of rotting corpses. His eyes darted to the threadbare flannel couch next to the bed. It looked almost blackened by the detritus of human refuse. Both of the stoners had been tossed onto the bed, their bodies still fresh enough to not yet balloon or rot yet. They still stank, though.
There was a closet in the room as well. It'd been left open, revealing a assortment of black prom dresses. Dozens of them, all differing in style, cut and era. Next to the only door out, Noir noted the artwork that hung there. It only said, 'Life Is What You Make of It.' He couldn't see any windows from his vantage point.
Noir wanted to get up and try to get out. But his body felt hard. Hard and immovable. Pain still flowed into him. He glanced down at his left hand, where he saw a bandage that wasn't there before.
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"Drugshh." Noir slurred the words. Painkillers of some kind. His captors had been kind enough to do that.
The door opened with a creak.
A woman in a black prom dress walked in. She hummed as she entered. No, not a woman, Noir noted. She looked like she was sixteen. Her hair was a bit frayed, but it'd been dyed red in places, with a bright red rose hanging in her dark brown hair. She was a small, skinny thing, no taller than five feet from Noir's guesstimation. She hummed the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. Her dress looked tattered and dirty, like it'd seen more than its fair share.
Her eyes and face frightened him. Her left eye had been covered black makeup, drawn into the shape of a heart. Her teeth didn't look human. They were sharpened. They dripped with blood. Her eyes themselves frightened him more. Both eyes were totally black, absent of any whites, color, cholera or pupils. Black and glistening with a mad stare.
"Shh." She put a finger to her lips, cooing as she walked over to the corpses of Gary and Larry. "Anna's here. Its alright."