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

the edges of my vision, dark tendrils snaking across the ground. I try to warn Ava,

behind her.

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.

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

Impact.

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

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

55000

I'm helpless to

watch as she suffers.

up. The horrors

mercifully, I

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

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

torment.

with a curious intensity. "How often has the

by the question. "Just once," I rasp

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

you

across her face as she mutters, "He must favor y

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

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room, tie lase mast but no words coming

weten, my mind dealle

Mariel's

I want

ere will die

mure endle

wees to care

her hate prodding

that make me

against my neck, my wrists, my ankles. It's only when

any I rasp out, my voice rough from disuse

at me with a strange intensity. "Only once," she repeats, as if tasting the words. "But the withdrawal... it's so

and the sickening rush of pleasure that followed, makes bile rise in my

return.

to push the sensation

a longing that I can't quite comprehend. "When did you know? she

Fevers and

For