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

my wrists, raw and a little

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

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

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

in fear that it almost feels

need some serious therapy, if this tiny person

murder me.

Waking in

it open, revealing a bathroom. "In. Shower. Make

protest, she shoves me inside and

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

fingers grow to little more than bony sticks, but my

God.

like a skeleton with some skin hanging

Horrible.

the hell is happening?" I whisper

no answers. She looks

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

craves the promise of hot water, of washing away the grime I can feel

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

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

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

surprised my wrists

whimpering as the hot water hits my battered skin. But the pain fades, replaced by a blessed warmth

water cascades over me with a sense of peace and cleanliness I haven't felt

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

at my

wash away the memories along with

pink and raw, but I feel more

take my time

Waking

out