Tangled

Unshift 242

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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

the sight of my wrists, raw and a little

on, come on. No time to waste. She tugs at my arm

Clothes I don't recognize-a simple white night dress that is several sizes too big,

want to ask questions. -so many questions-but they stick

so much time in fear that it almost

if this tiny person isn't

murder me.

Lisa: Waking in

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

she shoves me inside and

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 feel in my bones.

my fingers grow to little more than bony sticks, but my

God.

like a skeleton with some skin hanging off

Horrible.

the hell is happening?" I whisper to my

girl in the mirror has no answers.

wants to march over and slam open the door, demanding

craves the promise of hot water, of washing away the grime I can feel coating my skin,

bruises and scrapes. Some look fresh, angry

it wasn't technically

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,

wrists

water hisses as I turn it on, steam quickly filling the small space. I step under the spray, whimpering as the hot water hits my battered skin. But the pain fades, replaced by a blessed warmth that seems to seep into

me with a sense of peace

ledge is the first thing I grab, rubbing it all over me

at my

the memories along with the dirt. By the

my skin is pink and raw, but

is a tangled mess. I'm not even sure it's possible to brush it out. Still, I take my time

Waking

out the