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.

my arm by

beneath me, and the floor is cool against my bare feet. Bare feet? Ah. Clothes I don't recognize—a simple white night dress that is several sizes too big, soft and deceptively clean. I'm sure

I want to ask questions—so many questions—but they stick in my throat. There's something about

it almost feels comforting to be afraid of someone

if this tiny person isn't

pushes it open, revealing a bathroom. "In.

I can protest, she shoves me inside and slams

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

And speaking of bones…

my fingers grow to

God.

like a skeleton with some skin hanging off

Horrible.

happening?" I whisper

no answers. She looks as lost as I

me wants to march over and slam open the door,

hot water, of washing away the grime I can

bruises and scrapes. Some look fresh, angry red against my pale skin. Others are older, fading to sickly

Marisol didn't beat me.

kidnapping victim, it wasn't technically all that bad, I

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

I'm surprised my wrists and ankles

steam quickly filling the small space. I step under the spray, whimpering as the hot water

sense of peace and cleanliness I haven't felt since…

scrubbing at my skin

take my time washing it with shampoo and conditioner, leaving

my hand.