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

at the sight of my wrists,

tugs at my arm by the elbow, her strength surprising

wobble beneath me, and the floor 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,

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

much time in fear that it almost feels comforting to be afraid of

going to need some serious therapy, if this tiny person isn't dragging me around

murder me.

Lisa: Waking

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

shoves me inside and

my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, eyes wide with confusion and fear. Dark circles underneath them speak of exhaustion I can feel in my bones.

I've watched my fingers grow to little more than bony

God.

a skeleton with

Horrible.

happening?" I whisper to

answers. She looks as lost

warily. Part of me wants to march over and slam

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

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

for being a kidnapping victim, it wasn't

lot of thrashing around, trying to escape my chains. That usually involved falling to the floor in various painful ways. And 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

my wrists and ankles

I step under the spray, whimpering as the hot water hits my battered skin. But the pain fades, replaced

over me with a sense of peace

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

at my

wash away the memories along with the dirt. By

my skin is pink and raw, but I feel

possible to brush it out. Still, I take my time washing it with shampoo and conditioner, leaving

Lisa. Waking

brushing out the