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

of my wrists,

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

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

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 about her demeanor, gruff and no-nonsense, that

much time in fear that it almost feels comforting to

I'm going to need some serious therapy, if this tiny person

murder me.

Lisa: Waking

and she pushes it open, revealing a

shoves me inside and slams the

in the sudden quiet, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, eyes wide with confusion and fear. Dark circles underneath them speak

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

God.

a skeleton with some skin hanging

Horrible.

hell is happening?" I whisper to

the mirror has no answers. She looks as lost

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

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

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

victim, it wasn't technically

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

surprised 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

a sense of peace and cleanliness I

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

at my

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

and raw, but I feel more

out. Still, I take my time washing it with

Waking

out