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,

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

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

under her breath. I want to ask questions. -so many questions-but they stick in my

so much time in fear that it almost feels comforting to

if this tiny person

murder me.

Waking in

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

I can protest, she shoves me inside and

alone in 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. And speaking of

watched my fingers grow to little more than bony sticks,

God.

with some skin hanging

Horrible.

is happening?" I whisper to my

answers. She looks as

warily. Part of me wants to march over and slam open the door,

of hot water, of washing away the grime I can feel

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

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

it wasn't escape attempts, it was me trying to do basic stretches and exercises to keep up my muscle

wrists

small space. I step under the spray, whimpering as the hot water hits my battered skin. But the pain fades, replaced by a blessed warmth that seems to seep

water cascades over me with a sense of peace

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

at my

scrubbingkin as if I could wash away the memories

pink and raw, but I feel more like

tangled mess. I'm not even sure it's possible to brush it out. Still, I take my time

Waking

brushing out