Tangled

Unshift 242

Unshift 242

242 Lisa: Waking in Comfort

LISA

Waking up in a bed is too comfortable.

My brain wants to wake, but my body wants to keep sleeping.

If this comfort is little more than an elaborate trap before I'm murdered, just take me away. At least I'll be going in bliss.

A sharp poke in my side jolts me from my half-asleep musings. I crack open an eye, squinting against the sudden brightness. A face swims into view, so close I can count every wrinkle etched into leathery skin.

"Up! Up, you lazy girl!"

The voice is shrill, grating against my eardrums. I blink,

40 focus on the owner of that

voice. It's a woman, impossibly small, with a nose so red it could guide Santa's sleigh.

I open my mouth to speak, but my tongue feels like sandpaper. Before I can form words, a stinging slap lands on my calf. The pain is sharp, unexpected, and I jerk away, nearly tumbling off

the bed.

"Ow! What the-"

"No time for your nonsense," the tiny woman interrupts, waving a hand in front of my face. Her fingers are gnarled, reminding me of tree roots. "You stink. Shower. Now"

I sit up, head spinning. The room tilts and sways around me. Where am I? How did I get here? The last thing I remember is... Darkness, Cold. A strange man who brought me out of my personal hell. The tiny woman's groan snaps me back to the present. "Look at this mess. Filthy! You've ruined

the sheets."

I glance down at the bed. The once-white linens are stained with dirt and... is that blood? My

my wrists, raw and a

waste. She tugs at my arm by

legs wobble beneath me, and the floor is cool against my bare feet. Bare feet? Ah. Clothes I don't recognize-a simple

to ask questions. -so many questions-but they stick in my throat. There's something about her

in fear that it almost feels comforting to be

need some serious therapy, if this tiny person

murder me.

Lisa: Waking

she pushes it open, revealing a bathroom. "In. Shower. Make

shoves me inside and slams the door

the sudden quiet, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, eyes wide with confusion and fear. Dark circles underneath them speak of exhaustion I can

I've watched my fingers grow to

God.

look like a skeleton with some

Horrible.

hell is happening?" I whisper to

girl in the mirror has no answers. She looks as lost as I

eyeing it warily. Part of me wants to march over

grime I can feel coating my skin, and the memories

map of bruises and scrapes. Some look fresh, angry red against my pale skin. Others are older, fading to sickly yellows and greens.

kidnapping victim, it

thrashing around, trying to escape my chains. That usually involved falling to the floor in various painful ways. And when it wasn't escape attempts, it was me trying to do basic stretches and exercises to keep

wrists and ankles

space. I step under the spray, whimpering as the hot

over me with a sense of peace and cleanliness I haven't felt since... well,

thing I grab, rubbing it all over me until

at my

as if I could wash away the memories

pink and

tangled mess. I'm not even sure it's possible to brush it out. Still, I take my time washing it with shampoo and conditioner, leaving in a layer of conditioner

Waking

out the