The sun's brilliant rays pierced the darkness within the room as a tall man clad in black pulled the curtains back in one fluid, graceful motion. My eyes fluttered open dreamily and I proceeded to try rubbing the sleep from them. It didn't work very well. I looked up at the man groggily and shifted my gaze to the window paying no attention to his presence as if it were normal that he be there.

The sun was just beginning to rise, and the sky burned with the vibrant shades of orange and yellow. No wonder I was exhausted, I had never been up early enough to watch the sun rise in my entire life. Perhaps today was going to be committed to seeing things I'd never seen before. If that's the case, then where's the Eiffel Tower?

My morning musings were interrupted by a man's smooth voice, "I believe it has just been constructed in Paris, France. It is a marvelous piece of architecture made only of the strongest iron. You won't find it here in England, though." Oh, I hadn't meant to voice my thoughts. England? Why would I be in England?

He chuckled and walked over to a little cart that held some strange looking food on it, and by strange, I mean fancy. It was like the cuisine that you would see in the movies when people pay thousands of dollars for food that wouldn't even sate a mouse's hunger. "Now, what suits your tastes this morning Miss?"

With the half-conscious naivety gone, I felt a wave of uncertainty take hold of my body. My thoughts seemed to dart around my head like a bouncy ball on caffeine. Questions without answers were the most prominent. How did I get here? Who is this man? Why am I in his bed?

The high class décor obviously belonged to someone wealthy. I was sitting on the most elegant bed I'd ever seen. It was a king-size one with a canopy, and the sheets seemed like they were made out of silk. I really hope I didn't have amnesia and turned out to be some kind of prostitute. "Miss? Are you alright, you look quite pale…though I suppose falling through a roof as sturdy as Earl Phantomhive's might do that." He smirked as he began to pour tea into a beautifully crafted white china teacup with little blue swirls on it.

I just stared with my mouth partially agape which I took notice of and quickly shut. Did he just say I fell through a roof? How on earth did I live through something like that? I didn't even remember it! I immediately began answering the questions in my head that would seem obvious to any normal person, but I had to make sure I wasn't losing it. What was my name? Alice Barnett. How old am I? 14. Where do I live? The United States, but apparently I'm in England now. What is the last thing I remember before this? I remember talking to my dad about going to a dance, and I heard him saying something about not falling asleep with my face in my soup because he had been slaving over a hot stove all day, it was a waste, etc..

"That's it!" I exclaimed feeling the wave of panic withdraw being replaced by a newfound understanding. "What?" the man in black asked calmly. He didn't look confused like my friend's are when I have a sudden outburst, and instead he remained stoic as his ruby eyes watched my every move. The way he said it made it seem like he could care less what I was thinking, but, as they say, speak when spoken to. "I know why I'm here in this fancy high class place with a man like you! I don't have amnesia! And I'm not a prostitute! I'm just dreaming!" I stated ebulliently. The feeling sense of safety and relief was shattered by that same chuckle accompanied by that smirk that I had been receiving earlier. My smile faded along with my excitement when I caught a glance of his expression.

"Miss, I do believe it is safe to say that you are most certainly not dreaming. And if your next guess was 'dead' then you'd still be wrong because there have been no reaper sightings for some time. Let's hope it stays that way." he said with an unexplained shudder.

"I'm sorry, Mr. strange-man-in-black, but I know for a fact that you're just a figment of my imagination that wants to be real but can't because I'm the one who created you with my subconscious mind." I stated matter-of-factly. "So, what's your name anyway? As far as I'm concerned, you're not real, but if there is actually a chance that this is reality, then I guess I should know who's keeping me alive. At least for now."

He watched me as if I would sprout wings and fly away if he glanced in the other direction. He placed the breakfast in front of me gently. It seemed that everything he did was done with grace, and it was already annoying me. The food smelled delicious, even though I hadn't the slightest clue as to what it was. Wait, can you smell in dreams? Oh well, as long as I was stuck here, I might as well eat up! I was so preoccupied by the feast, that I had nearly forgotten that I'd asked him a question.

"Sebastian Michaelis." he stated, still watching me. Man this guy is creepy, but it is me who thought him up, so I guess it's my fault. I took a sip of the tea he had given me, and it was surprisingly delicious. It didn't taste watered down like when I attempt to make it. I swallowed and began to wonder just when I was going to wake up, finding myself wishing for the sound of my alarm clock. Not because I didn't like it here, but more because it was one of the most peculiar, vivid dreams I'd ever experienced.

I ate the breakfast mostly in silence because his gaze made me feel uneasy, but I supposed that I should feel thankful that he was letting me stay here. The silence was awkward and becoming unbearable. I don't remember ever being so quiet in my life except at funerals. I laughed at myself mentally for thinking that because this man could quite easily look like he was going to a funeral.

He was the one to break the silence. "And what might your name be Miss?" he inquired, still standing like a statue with his arms at his sides. "Oh, ummm Alice Barnett, sir. I meant to tell you earlier, but it slipped my mind or something." I said quietly. My surroundings were completely foreign to me, but I felt a strange familiarity sitting in that room. Like I had seen it before, but that was impossible, right? I had had enough of my breakfast and was wishing this dream would end . He loaded up the cart with the breakfast dishes quietly and began to leave the room.

He stopped at the door and told me, "Miss Barnett, I will be sending our maid, Meirin, up to help you get ready. You are to have lunch with my master later this morning, but until such time you are free to roam the mansion as long as you don't cause too much trouble." I looked up at him and nodded my head, silently thinking of the movie Beauty and the Beast when Belle is forced to have dinner with the master of the castle. He left without another word and I was left pondering what he said about this not being a dream. Could he really be telling the truth, and if he was, how would I know whether or not to believe him?

"Wait! He isn't the one who owns this place!" I exclaimed aloud. He said I'm to have dinner with the master of the estate later...I wonder what he's like.