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

lurches at the sight of my wrists, raw and a little

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

floor is cool against my bare feet. Bare feet? Ah. Clothes I don't recognize-a simple white night dress that is

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

almost feels

to need some serious therapy, if this tiny

murder me.

Waking in

it open, revealing a

she shoves me inside and slams the door

wide with confusion and fear. Dark circles underneath them speak of exhaustion I can feel in

face is gaunt. I've watched my fingers grow to little

God.

a skeleton with some skin hanging off

Horrible.

is happening?" I whisper

no answers. She looks as lost

it warily. Part of me wants to march over and

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

underneath is a map of bruises and scrapes. Some look fresh, angry red

a kidnapping victim, it wasn't technically all

ways. And when it wasn't escape attempts, it

I'm surprised my wrists and

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

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

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

at my

scrubbingkin as if I could wash away the memories along with the dirt.

skin is pink and raw, but

sure it's possible to brush it out. Still, I take my time washing it with shampoo and conditioner, leaving in a layer

Lisa. Waking

brushing out the