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

come on. No time to waste. She tugs at my arm by the elbow,

the floor is cool 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

they stick in my throat. There's something about her demeanor, gruff and no-nonsense, that makes me feel like a scolded

it almost

some serious therapy, if this tiny person

murder me.

Waking

open, revealing a bathroom. "In. Shower.

shoves me inside

wide with confusion and fear. Dark circles underneath them speak of exhaustion I

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

God.

look like a skeleton with some

Horrible.

the hell is happening?"

has no answers. She looks as lost as

Part of me wants to march over

part craves the promise of hot water, of washing away the grime I can feel coating my skin, and the memories of... however long it's

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

it wasn't technically all

did do a lot of 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

wrists and ankles

hisses as I turn it on, steam quickly filling the small space. I step under the spray, whimpering as the hot water hits

over me with a sense of peace and cleanliness I haven't felt since... well,

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

at my

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

is pink and raw, but I feel more

a tangled mess. I'm not even sure it's possible to brush it out. Still, I take my time washing it with shampoo and conditioner, leaving in a

Lisa. Waking

brushing out the