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

of my wrists, raw

waste. She tugs at my arm by the elbow, her

cool against my bare feet. Bare feet? Ah. Clothes I don't recognize-a simple white night dress that is several sizes too big, soft and deceptively clean. I'm sure it's a mess on the

woman herds me across the room, muttering under her breath. I want to ask questions. -so many questions-but they stick in my throat. There's something

time in fear that it almost feels comforting to be afraid of someone

I'm going to need some serious therapy, if this tiny person isn't dragging me

murder me.

Waking in

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

she shoves me inside and slams the door

the sudden quiet, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, eyes wide

grow to little more

God.

skeleton with some skin

Horrible.

happening?" I whisper to

answers. She looks as lost as I

me wants to march over and slam open the door, demanding answers to all my

promise of hot water, of washing away the grime I can feel coating my skin, and the memories of... however long it's

dress. My body underneath is a 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 wasn't

when it wasn't escape attempts, it was me trying to do basic stretches

surprised my wrists and ankles

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

sense of peace and cleanliness I haven't

ledge is the first thing I grab, rubbing

at my

away the memories along with the dirt. By

done, my skin is pink and raw, but

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

Lisa. Waking

out