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.

seen it in so

look outside, my guide veers sharply to the right. She pushes open a

me like a wall. I stumble, momentarily disoriented by

kind of massive greenhouse. Lush greenery surrounds

243

Lisa: Strango Introductions

spilling out of planters. The air is thick with the

flowers.

form on my skin. My simple cotton outfit,

warmth pressing down on us. I trail after her, trying not to trip over the uneven stone path winding

this indoor jungle, a thought strikes me

turn around right now and bolt.

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 me for

fleeting fantasy of freedom and hurry to catch

a secluded area of 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

it's sized for

sitting in some kind of booster that gets him to the level he needs to

laugh, but I'm too

into a chair. I stumble, barely catching myself as I fall into the seat. The woman bows to the old man and vanishes, leaving me

bead of sweat forming on my body. I shift

not anywhere. Would rather not

at ease. A sense of warmth, of friendliness, radiates from him. It's as if I've known him for years, though

we've never met.

I feel this way? After everything I've been through, I should be on high alert. Instead, I find myself

it. I can't trust it. This comfort, this sense of safety-it has to be some kind of trick. Maybe they've

security.

into the arms of the chair as I force myself to stay alert.

his Ble. 1

to my internal study him, searching for any hint of malice or deception. His wrinkled face is

unhurried as he reads.

movements

mine, and I'm struck by the intensity in his eyes. They're old eyes, yes,

he says, his voice surprisingly strong and deep for such a

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