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,

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

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

need some serious therapy, if

murder me.

Lisa: Waking

reach a door, and she pushes it open, revealing

she shoves me inside and slams the

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

grow to little more

God.

a skeleton with some skin hanging off

Horrible.

hell is happening?" I whisper

no answers. She looks as lost as I

turn to the shower, eyeing it warily. Part of me wants to march over and slam open the

washing away the grime I can

underneath is a map of bruises and scrapes. Some look fresh, angry red against my pale skin. Others are older, fading to sickly

it

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

wrists

filling the small space. I step under the spray, whimpering as the hot

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

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

at my

could wash away the memories

done, my skin is pink and raw, but I feel more

not even sure it's possible to brush it out. Still, I take my time washing it

Lisa. Waking in

brushing out