Chelsea sat alone in the dark. She had been stuffed into the stranger's duffle bag and she had no idea how long she had been there. The image of herself as a figurine that she saw in that mirror was haunting her every thought.

How did that guy do this to her? Why did he do it? What does he plan to do with her now?

None of those questions were likely to be answered as she lay alone in that bag. As far as she knew, there was no one else in that hallway of the convention center to witness what had happened. To anyone who found her now, she would be just another piece of memorabilia from the merchandise stands, not a person who had been having a good time and the convention up until her own body had become a prison. Thus, her fate seemed to lie entirely in the hands of the one who had done this to her in the first place.

How was this predicament even possible? From what she saw in the mirror her body appeared to now be made entirely of plastic. How can she still see, hear, and think without having functioning eyes, ears, and a brain? Everything she knew about biology and physics told her it was impossible. Yet, here she was, seemingly a sentient collectible. The illogical nature of her predicament was adding significantly to her dread, and even if she did figure out how it was possible, what good would it do her if she wasn't able to do.....anything?

After what seemed like an eternity wallowing in these thoughts, she noticed the bag she was in had begun to move. The transformation had strange effects on her sense of touch. She was dully aware of anything that came into contact with her but she could no longer perceive temperature and did not get any sensations of pleasure or pain from anything that touched her. Nonetheless, it was impossible not to notice the movement of the bag and everything else in it. The bag had been picked up and was now being carried somewhere.

Soon after, the bag was set down and Chelsea noticed a rumbling sound that told her the bag was now in a running car. "Does he plan to take me home like some demented souvenir?" She thought bitterly.

After some time passed, the car's engine stopped and the bag was lifted up again. After what sounded like a walk up a flight of stairs, the bag's zipper opened and light poured in.

Chelsea then shrieked in her mind as her captor's hand wrapped around her again. The next thing she saw was what appeared to be an ordinary bedroom. She was carried over to a shelf with various objects on it. He gently set her on the shelf, looked at her for a moment, and then left the room. She was now left alone with her thoughts again.

She watched several days pass motionlessly on that shelf. The guy who had done this to her seemed to only came into the bedroom to sleep, leaving her in total isolation most of the time.

How could this have happened? She had been enjoying life and was about to start a new chapter in her life in the fall. Now, she had been reduced to an inanimate decoration on a shelf. She had nothing to do but think about her situation all the time as her inability to close her eyes made anything resembling sleep impossible. This nightmare seemed even more inescapable as the days became weeks.

"He really does plan to keep me like this forever," Chelsea thought despairingly.