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.

to waste." She tugs at my arm

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

woman herds me across the 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 and no-nonsense, that

much time in fear that it almost feels comforting to be

therapy, if this tiny person

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

protest, she shoves me

alone in the sudden quiet, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, eyes wide with confusion and fear. Dark

And speaking of bones…

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

God.

a skeleton with some

Horrible.

is happening?" I whisper to

has no answers. She looks as lost as I

to march

part craves the promise of hot water, of washing away the grime I can feel coating my skin, and

underneath is a map of bruises and scrapes. Some look fresh, angry red against my pale skin.

Marisol didn't beat me.

being a kidnapping victim, it wasn't technically

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

wrists and ankles aren't

steam quickly filling the small space. I step under the spray, whimpering as the hot water hits my battered skin. But the pain fades, replaced by

water cascades over me with a sense of peace and cleanliness

soap on the ledge is the first thing I grab, rubbing it all over me until it turns in a dingy gray, scrubbing at my skin

my time washing it with shampoo and

it away with my hand. The