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

my wrists, raw

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

legs wobble beneath me, and 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.

her breath. I want to ask questions. -so many questions-but they stick in my throat. There's something about her

that it almost feels

therapy, if this

murder me.

Waking in

door, and she pushes it open, revealing a

she shoves me

alone in the sudden quiet, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, eyes wide with confusion

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

God.

a skeleton with

Horrible.

hell is happening?" I whisper

girl in the mirror has no answers.

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

hot water, of washing away the grime I can feel coating my skin,

of bruises and scrapes. Some look

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

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

my wrists and ankles aren't

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

me with a sense of peace and cleanliness I haven't felt

is the first thing I

at my

wash away the memories along with the dirt. By the

my skin is pink and raw, but

I take my time washing it with

Lisa. Waking in

out the