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

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

against my bare feet. Bare feet? Ah. Clothes I don't recognize-a simple

her breath. I want to ask questions. -so many questions-but they stick in my throat. There's

almost feels comforting to be afraid of someone

therapy, if

murder me.

Waking in

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

me inside and slams the door

eyes wide with confusion and fear. Dark circles underneath them speak of

grow to little more than bony sticks,

God.

a skeleton with some skin

Horrible.

is happening?" I whisper to my

in the mirror has no answers. She looks

me wants to march over and slam open the door, demanding answers to

the promise of hot water, of washing away the grime I

I peel 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 greens. Marisol didn't beat

victim, it

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

surprised my wrists and ankles

the spray, whimpering as the hot water hits my battered skin. But the

me with a sense of peace

soap on the ledge is the first thing I grab, rubbing

at my

I could wash away the memories along with the

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

Still, I take my time washing it with shampoo and conditioner, leaving in a layer of conditioner in hopes it will

Waking

out