He heard a faint voice from the ground. He put his ear to the cold, damp soil and heard the voice again. The voice was like a magnet, an angel crying to be heard, begging and pleading. Struggling to get closer to the mesmerizing voice, he frantically dug at the earth with his hands and began to claw his way deeper. With bruised and bloodied hands, he dug his way to hell. Here, the voice was a bit clearer and mingled together with tremors, demonic laughs and screams of pain. Faced with this horrific melody, he was tempted to turn back, but the voice beckoned him on. He pictured the voice to belong to a beautiful angel, constrained and forced to witness the abominations of hell. He couldn't make sense out of what the voice saying, hearing only clipped phrases that must surely be echoing the tragedy of her situation. With a last turn of the corner, now on his hands and knees, he saw the angel: an exotic woman wearing tattered clothing and restraints, but could see her face now. He saw no sign of terror. Instead, in her eyes he saw something much more insidious. She flashed a wicked smile and the tattered clothes became domination leather gear and the restraints disappeared. He realized the voice was not that of an angel, but a siren, luring him into a pit of agony and dread.