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 wrists, raw

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

feet? Ah. Clothes I don't recognize-a simple

under her breath. I want to ask questions. -so many questions-but they stick in my throat. There's something about her demeanor, gruff and no-nonsense, that makes me

much time in fear that it almost feels comforting to

if

murder me.

Waking

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

I can protest, she shoves me inside and slams the door

eyes wide with confusion and

fingers grow to little more than bony

God.

skeleton with some

Horrible.

hell is happening?"

the mirror has no answers. She

warily. Part of me wants to march over and slam open

grime I can feel coating my

hands, 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 yellows and greens. Marisol didn't beat

fact, for being a kidnapping victim, it wasn't technically

usually involved falling to the floor in various painful ways. And when it wasn't escape attempts, it was

I'm surprised 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 pain fades,

cascades over me with a sense of peace and cleanliness I

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

at my

wash away the

skin is pink and raw, but I feel more

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 conditioner in hopes it

Waking in

out the