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 little

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

simple white night dress that is several sizes too big, soft and deceptively clean.

room, muttering under her breath. I want to ask questions. -so many questions-but they

that it almost feels comforting to

therapy, if this tiny person isn't

murder me.

Lisa: Waking in

and she pushes it open, revealing a bathroom.

me inside and slams

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

watched my fingers grow

God.

skeleton with some skin hanging off

Horrible.

the hell is happening?" I whisper

girl in the mirror has no answers. She looks as lost

to the shower, eyeing it warily. Part of me wants to march

grime I can feel

a map of bruises and scrapes. Some look fresh, angry red against

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

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

I'm surprised my wrists and ankles aren't

it on, steam quickly filling the small space. I step under the spray, whimpering as the hot water hits my battered skin.

with a sense of

first thing I grab, rubbing

at my

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

done, my skin is pink and raw,

Still, I take my time washing it with shampoo and

Waking in

brushing out the