Purity Dies

I sat in the middle of the room, gazing at the floor.  It was cold and dark, and the floor felt like a sheet of ice against my skin.  Suddenly, a flame appeared!  A man dressed in a black robe entered the room carrying a torch.  As the flame lit the room, I looked around to observe my surroundings.  I was dressed in what appeared to be a long, flowing wedding gown.  The room smelled of roses, and sweet perfume.  My attention returned to the man carrying the torch.  Six more men followed behind him all dressed the same and carrying torches.  As they came closer, my heart began to pound, and I pulled against the chains that held me down.  Memories rushed through my head of the past sixteen years.  Snow white was the name I had been given, probably due to the paleness of my skin, or perhaps because of the innocence I portrayed.  All these years of captivity had led to this moment.  The men barely ever spoke to me.  I only identified them by the way I perceived them; nicknames I suppose.  They sat their torches down as they formed a circle around a concrete alter of some sort.  The one I called Doc, grabbed me and pulled me to the alter, where my chains were replaced with ropes that held me down, arms stretched over my head and feet spread wide.  I screamed in terror, and fought with all my might, but to no avail.  The seven men slowly approached me.  If they said anything, I could not hear.  A blade raised high glistened in the light of the torch, then pain gripped my as blood flowed from my body, staining the beautiful white gown.  I writhed in pain, screaming all the more, as the men, took a chalice and collected my blood.  They turned and grabbed the torches from the ground, following the path taken as they entered, they each walked slowly from the room, carrying away the chalice of my blood.  Darkness, pain, cold, left alone to die.  Tears flowed from my eyes as I slowly lost strength, my cries diminished and my breath ceased.