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

try to warn Ava, but my voice

behind her.

no sound comes out. The shadow reaches for Ava, engulfing her, dragging her away as she kicks and struggles. I lunge for her, but my feet are rooted. Darkness swallows her

scene shifts, and we're on a plane, Ava beside me. 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.

Impact.

and rends. Flames erupt. Pain

last. Ava, drowning in a sea of blood. Ava, burning alive. Ava,

55000

I'm helpless

watch as she suffers.

can't escape. I can't wake up. The horrors play out

finally, mercifully, I do

sweat. My throat feels raw, my limbs heavy and weak. Marisol kneels beside me. holding a bowl of that foul-smelling

I force myself to swallow. Anything to chase away the lingering images of

torment.

a curious intensity. "How often has the Master fed

once," I

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

you

must favor y

this monster might favor me fills

]]

mast but

weten, my mind dealle

with Mariel's

I want

ere will die

mure endle

to

me agan her hate

detach that make

Her fingers press against my neck, my wrists, my ankles. It's only when she peers down at my

rough from

at me with a strange intensity. "Only once," she repeats, as if

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

return.

trying to push

her expression, a

Lisa Fevers

For

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