Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 242 Lisa: Waking in Comfort

LISA

Waking up in a bed is too comfortable.

My brain wants to wake, but my body wants to keep sleeping.

If this comfort is little more than an elaborate trap before I'm murdered, just take me away. At least I'll be going in bliss.

A sharp poke in my side jolts me from my half-asleep musings. I crack open an eye, squinting against the sudden brightness. A face swims into view, so close I can count every wrinkle etched into leathery skin.

"Up! Up, you lazy girl!"

The voice is shrill, grating against my eardrums. I blink, trying to focus on the owner of that voice. It's a woman, impossibly small, with a nose so red it could guide Santa's sleigh.

I open my mouth to speak, but my tongue feels like sandpaper. Before I can form words, a stinging slap lands on my calf. The pain is sharp, unexpected, and I jerk away, nearly tumbling off the bed.

"Ow! What the—"

"No time for your nonsense," the tiny woman interrupts, waving a hand in front of my face. Her fingers are gnarled, reminding me of tree roots. "You stink. Shower. Now."

I sit up, head spinning. The room tilts and sways around me. Where am I? How did I get here? The last thing I remember is... Darkness.

Cold. A strange man who brought me out of my personal hell.

The tiny woman's groan snaps me back to the present. "Look at this mess. Filthy! You've ruined the sheets."

I glance down at the bed. The once-white linens are stained with dirt and... is that blood? My stomach lurches at the sight of my wrists, raw and a little bloody.

tugs at my arm by the elbow, her strength surprising for someone

bare feet. Bare feet? Ah. Clothes I don't recognize—a simple white night dress that is several sizes too

across the room, muttering under her breath. I want to ask questions—so many questions—but they stick in my throat. There's

so much time in fear that it almost feels comforting to be afraid of someone like

need some serious therapy, if this tiny person isn't dragging me around

it open, revealing a bathroom. "In.

can protest, she shoves me inside and slams the

stand there, alone in the sudden quiet, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, eyes wide with confusion and fear. Dark circles underneath them speak of exhaustion I can feel in my

And speaking of bones…

gaunt. I've watched my fingers grow to little more than bony sticks,

God.

like a skeleton with some skin hanging off

Horrible.

is happening?"

girl in the mirror has no answers. She looks as lost

to march

larger part craves the promise of hot water, of washing away the grime I can feel coating my skin, and the memories of… however long it's

map of bruises and scrapes. Some look fresh, angry

Marisol didn't beat me.

for being a kidnapping victim, it wasn't technically all that bad,

various painful ways. And when it wasn't escape attempts, it was me trying to do basic stretches and exercises to keep up my muscle mass—hard to do with heavy

I'm surprised my wrists and

I turn it on, steam quickly filling the small space. I step under the spray, whimpering as the hot water hits my

over me with a sense of peace and cleanliness I haven't felt

the ledge is the first thing I grab, rubbing it all over me until it turns in a dingy gray, scrubbing at my skin as if I could wash away the memories along with the dirt.

to brush it out. Still, I take my time washing it with shampoo and conditioner, leaving in a layer of conditioner in hopes it will help with brushing

clouds the mirror, and I wipe it away with my hand. The face that stares back at me is familiar, but strange. There's a hardness in my