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.

She tugs at my

Bare feet? Ah. Clothes I don't recognize—a simple white night dress that is several sizes too big, soft and deceptively clean.

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

so much time in fear that it almost feels

this tiny person

door, and she pushes it open, revealing a bathroom. "In.

she shoves me

pale, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

And speaking of bones…

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

God.

skeleton with some skin hanging

Horrible.

hell is happening?" I

mirror has no answers. She

turn to the shower, eyeing it warily. Part of me wants to march over and

promise of hot water, of washing away the grime I can feel coating my skin, and the memories of… however long

peel off the shift dress. My body underneath is a map of bruises and scrapes. Some look fresh, angry

Marisol didn't beat me.

being a kidnapping victim, it wasn't technically all

involved falling to the floor in various painful ways. And when it

my wrists and ankles aren't

under the spray, whimpering as the hot water hits my battered skin. But the pain fades,

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

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. By the time I'm done, my skin is

sure it's possible to brush it out. Still, I take my time washing

wipe it away with my