A black dress and a cave

Why I am here, isn't exactly clear. I do know that I am an investigator and that a crime has been reported. I am in the back of some old processing plant. My eye is following a line of piping as I walk to a dumpster. The piping is about a foot above my head and appears to be two feet in diameter.

As I arrive at the scene, two police officers are up on a platform next to the dumpster. They are removing the ninety degree elbow that goes into it. The sun shines into the piping, and I see a pair of black high heels. "We've got a body!" I say. All the men working the area turn and look. I hear the whispers, "How did they get her in there?" "How'd they get her through that ninety?"

"Let's see what we have." So I grab her by the ankles and pull her out. We've got black, fish net stockings, a mini-dress and a shirt to match. She has black hair and white skin. She is attractive by any standard. She also appears to be dead.

The piping is a couple of inches above the platform and her head hits it as she slides out. She is not dead, for she wakes up and her eyes open. How long was she in there? I can only imagine the hunger.

She sits up and begins to attack me with a machine like precision. The kind of precision that requires a kind of madness. I weave and duck away from her fingernails. You'd think she'd be happy. I remember a time when I was young. When I explored a cave with a colleague. Our guide told us that if our lights went out, we'd go mad.

Her attack does not slow, she can't quite hit me. This is where I wake up.