A/n: possible triggers?  

this chapter is pretty weird, it's a grotesque version of the red room. this kinda reminds me of Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez. (Above). I hope this makes sense.

Readers age: 5 years old.
Readers pov
"Mum! Mum! Where are you?!" You cry. There was smoke, deep grey smoke that seemed as though it would consume you if you entered its midst. That's the last thing I saw before the remaining outside world went black.

I then woke up hours? No days later only to find I was trapped in a dimly light bedroom, that looked as though it had been right from a doll house. It included things such as oak wardrobes, canopy beds and 80's cheesy wallpaper.  Being a five year old this made it appear as though it was safe. Little did you know that you were most likely never be safe again.

Next thing you knew, men who you swore all looked the exact same came into your room followed by one woman who you guessed was their boss.  She came into the middle of the room and crouched down so she was level with your eyes.  "Listen kid, don't think I like you or that I actually care about you because I don't. I just need a new top level spy, and that's all you are to me, a soldier, a secret weapon. Got it?" You nod your head eyes welling up with tears.
"Good".

The next few days were practically the same making it difficult to tell time. The only way you did that was by drawing ticks on the oak post of your bed.

From your poor counting skills you guessed it had been about three days before the men came back. They pulled you up and literally dragged you down the, hallway? Funny this place looks like a fun house at a circus! You thought, maybe thing would cheer up?

These optimistic thoughts were quickly replaced when they throw you (again) into a room with no windows and only door. There were other children about your age all standing ramrod straight staring at the boss woman taking. You only had time to notice the red octopus/skull like symbol painted on the wall.

When they pushed you along to a room and fitted you with a doll like white dress. Forcefully yank your hair into pigtails with white bows and brush it until it is absolutely perfect and straight with a bounce.

Then they push you out the doors and yell at you to dance. Dance? What? You think. But then you see the other children doing a somewhat repetitive dance. Before you can do anything they smack you right across the face causing  you to stumble but you got the message and begin to dance. It wasn't perfect but it was a start.