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, raw and a little

at my arm by the elbow, her strength surprising

recognize-a simple white

I want to ask questions. -so many questions-but they

almost feels

going to need some serious therapy, if this

murder me.

Lisa: Waking

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

can protest, she shoves me inside and slams the

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've watched my fingers grow to little

God.

skeleton with some skin hanging

Horrible.

hell is happening?"

the mirror has no answers. She

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

hot water, of washing away the grime I can feel coating my skin,

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

it wasn't technically all that

falling to the floor in various painful ways. And when it wasn't escape attempts, it was me trying

I'm 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 skin. But the

me with a sense of peace

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

at my

as if I could wash away the memories

skin is pink and raw, but I feel

take my time washing it with shampoo and conditioner, leaving in a layer of

Waking in

out