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

the sight of my wrists,

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

recognize-a simple white night dress that is several sizes too big, soft and deceptively clean. I'm sure it's a

questions-but they stick in my throat. There's something about her demeanor, gruff and no-nonsense, that makes me feel like a

almost feels comforting to be afraid of someone like

serious therapy, if this tiny person isn't dragging me

murder me.

Lisa: Waking in

reach a door, and she pushes it open,

I can protest, she shoves me inside

face is pale, eyes wide

gaunt. I've watched my fingers grow to little more than bony sticks,

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

to the shower, eyeing it warily. Part of me wants to march over and slam

the grime I can feel coating

I peel off the shift 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

being a kidnapping victim, it wasn't technically all that

to the floor in various painful ways. And when it wasn't escape attempts, it was me trying to do basic stretches and exercises

my wrists

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

with a sense of peace

bar of soap on the ledge is the first thing I grab, rubbing it all over me until it

at my

wash away the memories along

done, my skin is pink and raw,

sure it's possible to brush it out. Still, I take my time washing it

Waking in

out