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

snaking across the ground. I try to warn Ava,

behind her.

The shadow reaches for Ava, engulfing her, dragging her away as she kicks and struggles. I

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. The world outside

Impact.

Pain sears. Ava's hand.

Ava, drowning in a sea of blood.

55000

always, I'm helpless to save her,

watch as she suffers.

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

mercifully, I

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,"

tongue, but I force myself to swallow. Anything to chase away the lingering images

torment.

watches me with a curious intensity. "How often has the Master fed

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

"Only once?" She shakes her head. "The withdrawal shouldn't be this strong, not for a single feeding." There's something in her tone, an undercurrent of emotion I can't quite

you

must favor y greatly, for a

idea that this monster might favor me fills me with nothing but a sickening twist of my

]]

lase mast but

weten, my mind dealle

Mariel's odd

I want is to curl up

ere will die

mure endle

she doesn't wees to care

her hate prodding at my skin

that make

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

rough from disuse and screaming. "He

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

and the

return.

hard, trying to push the

stares at me. There's something wistful in her expression, a

Lisa Fevers and

For

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