Tangled

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

at the edges of my vision, dark tendrils snaking across the ground. I try to warn Ava, but my voice won't work. She keeps talking, oblivious, until the shadows coalesce into a

behind her.

Ava, engulfing her, dragging her away as she kicks and struggles. I lunge for her, but my

She's gripping the armrests, making a joke about the turbulence. I reach for her hand to comfort her, but the plane lurches, throwing us forward. Oxygen Ava's screaming. I'm screaming. The world outside the windows is a blur of sky and ground,

Impact.

screeches and rends. Flames erupt. Pain sears.

drowning in

55000

And always, I'm helpless

watch as she suffers.

escape. I can't wake up. The horrors play out again and again, an endless

I do wake

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,"

force myself

torment.

a curious intensity. "How often has the Master fed from you?" she asks,

question. "Just once," I rasp out, wincing

shouldn't be this strong, not for a single feeding." There's something in her tone, an undercurrent of emotion I can't

you

"He must favor y greatly, for a single

to that. The idea that this monster might favor me fills me with nothing but

]]

lase mast but

weten, my mind dealle

Mariel's

I want

ere will die

mure endle

wees to care about my

need to me agan her hate prodding at my skin

that

doing. Her fingers press against my neck, my wrists, my ankles. It's

voice rough from disuse and screaming. "He only

once," she repeats, as if tasting the words. "But the withdrawal... it's

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

return.

trying to push

on them as she stares at me. There's something wistful in her expression, a longing that I can't quite comprehend. "When did you know? she asks softly, her eyes never leaving

Fevers

For