• "I painted a picture of this girl. You might hate her."

    Stop.
    Rewind.

    This place is a prison; controlled by The Man and run by His Dogs.

    Why the hell am I here?

    I'm pacing these rotting wooden floors in nothing but a towel. They stole my clothes again. God damn them and their childish ways. The Dogs argue amongst themselves. Someone's been watching porn on The Man's computers.

    "Run a full scan," barks Boss Dog, "and delete it all."

    "You're gonna blow our cover, a*****e," barks Sergeant Dog #1.

    "Hey, man. I have my needs!" barks Pervert Dog, making it a point to turn my way, look me over, and wink.

    I roll my eyes and shudder, keeping my arms folded tightly over my chest.

    "Lookin' good there, Lily," he growls, sauntering over to me with a devilish grin.

    My heart begins to pound. My ears begin to burn. All color flushes from my cheeks. Not again.

    "******** you," I mutter, taking a few steps back, "Keep your ******** paws off me."

    "Oh," he growls, inching closer, "You're a lot more feisty than I remember. C'mon, kitty cat, let me hear you purr."

    He lunges at me, like the Dogs do, and I tighten the grip on my towel.

    Bang! Bang!

    The Dog stops, mid-lunge, as we all turn our attention to the door to our right.

    "What the ******** was that?" barks Sergeant Dog #3.

    Bang! Bang! Bang!

    "s**t!" yelps Boss Dog, "They found us!"

    Bang! Bang!

    "Get out of here, Lily. Go to the basement," he barked, "Battle is no place for a feline."

    I stand atop the stairs, looking down the several floors of darkness. Battle sounds pretty good compared to facing what lurks beneath us.

    "I-- I can't. W-- What if someone's down there?"

    "Alright, Alright! John! Take her to the basement!"

    My heart stops.Pervert Dog inches closer, his grin much wider than before.

    "With pleasure, Sir," he growls.

    "Sir!" shouts an unfamiliar voice, resting his hand on my shoulder.

    I turn, seeing what seems to be another Dog, yet his face is covered by his cap, and I feel no urge to pull away. Only a few bits of blonde fur peek from beneath his cap.

    "Sir," repeats Blonde Dog, "with all due respect, I find myself more suitable for such a job."

    Bang! Bang! Bang!

    "Fine, fine!" yelps Boss Dog, "Just hurry up!"

    Blonde Dog gently pushes me through the doorway of the stairwell, closing the door behind him. I want to speak, but I can't. He puts his hands on my shoulders, guiding me through the darkness, making it seem more bearable.

    "So, you're afraid of the dark, eh?"

    He lets out a light chuckle as I turn to glare at him.

    "There's no sense in denying it," he said, "I can feel how tense you are, and you looked horrified at the top of those stairs."

    I shrug. He's right. No sense in denying it.

    "What is it that scares you?" he whispered; his lips just grazing my ear.

    "I don't know," I shrug.

    "Oh, I see."

    "What?"

    "You don't know. You're afraid, because you don't know."

    I shrug. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

    I turn to look at him. His face is completely darkened by his cap. I shudder.

    He lets out another light chuckle and releases his grip on my shoulders. I feel as if I'm about to fall into the black abyss below. He raises his hands to his head, slowly removing his cap.

    His hair falls to his shoulders, playing around the sides of his face. His eyes gaze with a piercing blue. I simply can't look away.

    He laughs, not howls.
    This is no Dog at all.

    He ruffles his hair with a crooked grin, waiting for my response. I stand there, stupefied.

    "I guess you're not used to seeing a Dog with long hair, huh?" he chuckles, "Well, I'm not a Dog, as you can see. Never have been, and never will be."

    I ruffle his hair, gazing at those sapphire jewels in his eye sockets.

    "What is your name?" I whisper, still in my state of stupefied awe.

    "That's not what's important, here. I need to save you."

    "Save me? From what?"

    He sighs, lowering his head and shaking it, as if I should already know.

    "I painted a picture of this girl. You might hate her."

    Detecting a hint of sorrow in his voice, I attempt to console him.

    "I would never."

    "How can you be so sure? She's pretty crazy."

    He lifts his head and smiles at me. My stomach churns, and I feel the urge to lunge at him, like the Dogs do.

    "Well," I smile, "We're all pretty crazy, these days."

    I step forward, letting my fingers play along the buttons of his shirt. I grab his hands, and look up at his now solemn expression.
    He leans down and lightly presses his lips to mine.

    What is this?
    I stare at him blankly. He shakes his head and lets it fall.

    "Come on, Hun," he sighs, "We need to hurry."

    We walk down the stairs in silence. I wonder what wrong I've done to upset him.

    The basement is just as dark as the stairwell yet, with my newfound courage at my side, I find it much more bearable.

    At the bottom of the staircase is something The Man has banned any and all to possess: a mirror. I can't recall the last time I've seen myself. I quickly divert my eyes, and look up at this seemingly familiar stranger. He is gazing straight into the mirror, without fear or remorse. What a strange, strange man.He looks down at me, and laughs cynically.
    What have I done wrong?

    He guides me to a little room filled with dust, a wooden workbench, and shelves. He slowly approaches a shelf, carefully examining the contents upon it. He shakes his head and slowly approaches another. After a few moments, he pauses at a shelf and claims the object upon it: a dirty manila envelope with a heart poorly drawn in the middle. He looks it over, blows off the dust, and hands it to me.

    "Here," he says, "it's yours."

    I look at the envelope curiously, and I look at him confused.

    "Well," he sighs, "Open it."

    Inside the envelope, there is a small piece of canvas. He begins to approach me with a hopeful expression. I take hold of the canvas, hardened with paint, and turn it over.

    "Oh!" I gasp.

    Never before have a seen such beautiful magnificence. The painting is gleaming with bright reds, with fresh greens, with beautiful blues, and yellows, and oranges. The painting is of a girl, so strange with her long, blonde hair and brightly colored attire. She is sitting in a field, smiling brightly as the wind causes her hair to twirl and dance around her ivory face.
    He was right. I hate her.
    I hate that she can be confined to a canvas, and feel more free than I ever have.
    I swallow my words.

    "It's gorgeous. Who is she?"

    He looks down at the floor, trying to hide a disappointed frown.

    "It's you," he whispered, "before you sold your soul... Before they killed you."