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

lurches at the sight of my wrists, raw and a little

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

Ah. Clothes I don't recognize-a simple white night dress that is several sizes too big, soft and deceptively clean. I'm sure

herds me across the 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 makes me feel

much time in fear that it almost

need some serious therapy, if this tiny person

murder me.

Waking

open, revealing a bathroom.

shoves me

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

face is gaunt. I've watched my fingers grow to little more than bony sticks,

God.

like a skeleton with some skin hanging off

Horrible.

hell is happening?" I whisper

has no answers. She looks as

the shower, eyeing it warily. Part of me wants to march over and slam open the door, demanding answers to all

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

of bruises and scrapes. Some look fresh, angry red against my pale skin. Others are older, fading to sickly yellows and greens. Marisol

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

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

surprised my wrists

water hisses as I turn it on, steam quickly filling the small space. I step under the spray, whimpering as the hot water hits my battered

over me with a sense of peace

bar of soap on the ledge is the first thing I grab, rubbing it all over me until

at my

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

my skin is pink and raw, but

not 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

Waking in

brushing out