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, raw

She tugs at my arm by the elbow, her strength surprising for someone so

recognize-a simple white night dress that is several sizes too big, soft

they stick in my throat. There's

much time in fear that it almost

serious therapy, if this

murder me.

Waking in

reach a door, and she pushes it open, revealing a bathroom.

can protest, she shoves me inside and slams

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

watched my fingers grow to little more than bony sticks, but

God.

a skeleton with some

Horrible.

hell is happening?" I whisper to my

no answers. She

wants to march over and slam

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

map of bruises and scrapes. Some look fresh, angry red against my

victim, it wasn't technically all that bad, I

various painful ways. And when it wasn't escape attempts, it was me

wrists

whimpering as the hot water hits my battered skin. But the pain fades, replaced

cascades over me with a sense of peace and cleanliness

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

at my

if I could wash away the memories along with the dirt. By

pink and raw,

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

Waking

brushing out