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

at the sight of my wrists, raw and a

tugs at my arm by the elbow, her strength surprising for someone

against my bare feet. Bare feet? Ah. Clothes I don't recognize-a simple white night dress that is several sizes too big, soft and deceptively clean. I'm sure it's a mess on the

to ask questions. -so many questions-but they stick in my throat. There's something about her demeanor, gruff

time in fear that it almost feels comforting to be

if this tiny person

murder me.

Waking in

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

protest, she shoves me inside

the sudden quiet, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, eyes wide with confusion and fear. Dark circles underneath them

watched my fingers grow to little more than

God.

with some skin hanging

Horrible.

the hell is happening?"

the mirror has no answers. She looks as lost

it warily. Part of me wants to march over and slam

the grime I can feel coating my skin, and the memories of... however long

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

being a kidnapping victim, it wasn't technically all

in various painful ways. And when it wasn't escape attempts, it was me trying to do basic stretches and exercises to keep up

my wrists and

as the hot water hits

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

I grab, rubbing it all over me until

at my

scrubbingkin as if I could wash away the memories along with the dirt.

my skin is pink and

sure it's possible to brush it out. Still, I take my time washing

Waking in

out the