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

sight of my

on, come on. No time to waste. She tugs at my arm by the elbow, her strength surprising

is 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

tiny woman herds me across the room, muttering under her breath. I want to ask questions. -so many questions-but they stick

almost feels comforting to be afraid

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

murder me.

Waking in

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

protest, she shoves me inside and slams the door

the mirror. My face is pale, eyes wide with

my fingers grow to little more than bony sticks,

God.

a skeleton with some skin hanging

Horrible.

the hell is happening?" I whisper to

no answers. She looks as

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

away the grime I can feel

Some look fresh, angry red against my pale skin. Others are older, fading

it wasn't technically all that bad, I

when it wasn't escape attempts, it was me trying to do basic stretches and exercises to keep up my muscle mass-hard to do with heavy chains weighing me

my wrists and ankles

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

of peace and cleanliness I haven't felt since...

first thing I grab, rubbing it all over me until

at my

wash away the memories along with

skin is pink and raw, but I feel

it out. Still, I take my time washing it

Waking

out