Tangled

Chapter 243

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243 Lisa: Strange Introductions

LISA

Wherever I am, it's huge.

We've taken at least three or four turns, and I've already forgotten how to get back. Was it left

it?

first, or right? The last turn was to our right. Wait... Wten how to get back. Was it left

Shit.

Every time I lag behind, trying to map this place in my head-which is little better than at toddler's scribbling at this point, with my confusion over lefts and rights-the tiny woman turns and scolds me, telling me to pick up my

feet.

Before, I would have given her some sort of smartass comment and maybe even slowed down.

But now, my body feels cold sweat at the idea of making her angry. Even if I'm a prisoner, at least I'm a clean and comfortable prisoner here. I don't want to go back to the previous standard of kidnapping.

So I shut my mouth and hurry behind, wondering how she can be so freaking fast with such tiny legs. She's probably the size of a kindergartener, but faster than a full-grown adult.

What bizarre witchcraft is that?

I force myself to focus on the path ahead, ignoring the endless parade of closed doors lining these stark corridors. No pictures, no decorations, not even a potted plant breaks up the monotony. Just door after identical door, their handles gleaming dully in the harsh overhead lighting.

The silence is oppressive. Our footsteps echo off the bare walls, amplifying the sound until it feels like we're being followed by an army. I resist the urge to look over my shoulder. "Keep up, my tiny guide snaps for what feels like the hundredth time.

I lengthen my stride, closing the gap between us. Seriously though, how can someone so small move so fast?

We round another corner, and I blink in surprise, Windows. Actual windows line this hallway, letting in natural light.

Wow.

The sun.

haven't seen it

I can get a good look outside, my guide veers sharply to the right. She

humidity hit me like a wall. I stumble, momentarily

Lush greenery surrounds us on all sides,

243

Lisa: Strango Introductions

and spilling out of planters. The air is thick with

flowers.

my skin. My simple cotton outfit, so comfortable in the

us. I trail after her, trying not to trip over the

deeper into this indoor jungle, a thought strikes me with the force of a physical

bolt. My guide

But then what?

momentary surge of hope fades as quickly as it appeared. I have no idea where I am or how to get out of this place. Those endless, identical

punishment would await

fleeting fantasy of freedom and hurry to catch up with my impatient

the greenhouse, where an equally diminutive old man sits at a table. His beard cascades to his feet, and he peers through spectacles at a newspaper covered in unfamiliar script. A lavish spread of tea and

sized for normal

kind of booster that gets him to the level he needs to reach the

but I'm too

into a chair. I stumble, barely catching myself as I fall into the

of every bead of sweat forming on my body. I shift in my seat, wishing it was easier to breathe in this weather.

not anywhere. Would rather not be in my

something about this old man that puts me at ease. A sense of warmth, of friendliness, radiates from him. It's as if

we've never met.

I've been through, I should be on high alert. Instead,

it. I can't trust it. This comfort, this sense of safety-it has to be some kind of trick. Maybe they've drugged me. Maybe this whole setup is designed to lull me into a false

security.

fingers dig into the arms of the chair as I force myself

his Ble. 1

oblivious to my internal study

unhurried as he reads.

movements

as I'm about to break the silence myself, he folds the newspaper and sets it aside. His gaze meets mine, and I'm struck by the intensity in his eyes. They're old eyes, yes, but

says, his voice surprisingly strong

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