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

sight of my wrists, raw and a

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

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

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

so much time in fear that it almost feels comforting to be afraid of

some serious therapy, if

murder me.

Lisa: Waking in

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

I can protest, she shoves me inside and slams the

the sudden quiet, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, eyes wide with confusion and fear. Dark circles underneath them speak of exhaustion I can feel in my bones.

I've watched my fingers grow to little more than bony

God.

skeleton with some skin

Horrible.

the hell is happening?" I whisper to my

in the mirror has no answers. She looks as

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

of washing away the grime I can feel coating

look fresh, angry

victim, it wasn't technically

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

wrists

hot water hits my battered skin. But the pain

a sense of peace and cleanliness I haven't

is the first thing I

at my

I could wash away the memories along with the dirt.

skin is pink and raw, but I feel

possible to brush it out. Still, I take my time washing it with shampoo and conditioner, leaving in a layer of conditioner

Waking in

out