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
the ground. I try to warn Ava, but
behind her.
Ava, engulfing her, dragging her away as she kicks and struggles. I lunge for her, but my feet are rooted. Darkness swallows her
hand to comfort her,
Impact.
Flames erupt. Pain
nightmares keep coming, each more horrific than the last. Ava, drowning in a sea of blood. Ava, burning alive.
55000
monsters. And always, I'm helpless to
watch as she suffers.
against my chains, but I can't escape. I can't wake up. The horrors play out again and again, an endless loop of
I do wake
drenched in sweat. My throat feels raw, my limbs heavy and weak. Marisol kneels beside me. holding a
as the bitter liquid hits my tongue, but I force myself
torment.
often has the
surprised by the question. "Just once," I rasp out,
"The withdrawal shouldn't be this strong, not for a single feeding." There's something in
you
favor y greatly, for a single taste to affect you
might favor me fills me with nothing
]]
mast but no words coming
weten, my mind dealle
Mariel's odd
all I want is to
ere will die
mure endle
doesn't wees to care about my
need to me agan her hate prodding at my
detach that make
Her fingers press against my neck, my wrists, my
I rasp out, my voice rough from disuse and screaming. "He only bit me
once," she repeats, as if tasting the words.
of his fangs sinking, the agonizing pain, and the sickening rush of pleasure
return.
trying to push the sensation
stares at me. There's something wistful in her expression, a longing that I can't quite comprehend.
Fevers and
For
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