Tangled

Chapter 166

166

166

166 Lisa: Fevers and Dreams

LISA

How long has it been?

A few days?

Weeks?

The sun should keep me oriented, but a fever gets me the first night I'm there.

The girl, Marisol, comes by every so often. Always with food. A few times with bowls filled with some noxious liquid that has my nostrils trying to close, avoiding the smell coming from within. She's expressionless as she shoves it down my throat, and I'm too weak to fight her off.

It's medicine, I think.

I think that because I slowly get better after the third bowl,

In between moments of lucidity, I dream.

Normal life. Home. Mom and Dad.

Working with Ava at Beaniverse.

Flirting with that cute guy who accidentally wandered into our professor's Eng Lit class instead of some sort of philosophy class

two doors down.

Cozy, happy dreams, of a place far from here..

An escape from the reality that chains me.

17:37

At some point the dreams turn from happy comfort to something uneasy and dark.

Sunshine warms my face as Ava and I relax at our favorite cafe,

sipping lattes and chatting. For a moment, the world feels right again, like I'm back where I belong

But then the shadows come

to warn Ava, but my voice won't work. She keeps talking, oblivious, until the shadows coalesce into

behind her.

scream, but no sound comes out. The shadow reaches for Ava, engulfing her, dragging her away as she

about the turbulence. I reach for her hand to comfort her, but the

Impact.

and rends. Flames erupt. Pain sears. Ava's hand.

Ava, drowning in a sea of blood.

55000

And always, I'm helpless to save

watch as she suffers.

wake up. The

finally, mercifully, I do wake

and drenched in sweat. My throat feels raw, my limbs heavy and weak. Marisol kneels beside me. holding a bowl of that foul-smelling liquid to my lips. "Drink," she

the bitter liquid hits my tongue, but I force myself to swallow. Anything

torment.

watches me with a curious intensity. "How often has the Master fed from you?" she asks, her voice

once," I rasp out,

shouldn't be this strong, not for a single

you

"He must favor y greatly, for a

don't know how to respond to that. The idea that this monster might favor me fills me with nothing

]]

lase mast but no words coming

weten, my mind dealle

Mariel's odd

want is to curl

ere will die

mure endle

she doesn't wees to care

need to me agan her hate prodding at my skin with

that make me

not sure what she's doing. Her fingers press against my neck, my wrists, my ankles. It's only when she peers down at

voice rough from

once," she repeats, as

of his fangs sinking, the agonizing pain, and the sickening rush of pleasure that followed, makes bile rise in my throat, the

return.

to push

check on them as she stares at me. There's something wistful in her expression, a longing that I can't quite comprehend. "When did

Fevers

For

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