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.

time to waste." She tugs at my arm

don't recognize—a simple white night dress that is several sizes too big, soft

questions—but they stick in my throat. There's something about her demeanor, gruff and no-nonsense, that makes me feel like a scolded

almost feels comforting to be afraid of

need some serious therapy, if this

reach a door, and she pushes it open, revealing a

me inside and slams

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

And speaking of bones…

grow to little more than bony sticks, but

God.

skeleton with some

Horrible.

happening?" I

answers. She looks as lost

shower, eyeing it warily. Part of me wants to march over and slam open the door,

larger part craves the promise of hot water, of washing away the grime I can

shift dress. My body underneath is a map of bruises and scrapes. Some look fresh, angry red against

Marisol didn't beat me.

a kidnapping victim, it wasn't technically all

ways. And when it wasn't escape attempts, it was me trying to do basic stretches and exercises to keep up my muscle

surprised my wrists and

the small space. I step under the spray, whimpering as the hot water hits my battered skin. But the pain fades, replaced by a blessed warmth that seems to seep

me with a sense of peace

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 pink

hair is a tangled mess. I'm not even sure it's possible 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

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 eyes that wasn't there