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

to waste. She tugs at my arm by the elbow, her strength surprising for someone

feet. Bare feet? Ah. Clothes I don't recognize-a simple white night

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

it almost feels comforting

need some serious therapy, if this tiny

murder me.

Lisa: Waking

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

shoves me inside and slams the door

reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, eyes wide with confusion and fear. Dark circles underneath

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

God.

a skeleton with some skin hanging off

Horrible.

hell is happening?" I whisper to

mirror has no answers.

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

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

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

fact, for being a kidnapping 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 was me trying to do basic stretches and exercises to keep up my muscle mass-hard to do with

I'm surprised my wrists and ankles aren't

quickly filling the 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

of peace and cleanliness I haven't felt

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

at my

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

skin is pink and raw, but I feel more like

not even sure it's possible to brush it out. Still, I take my time washing it with shampoo and

Waking in

out the