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.

it in so

the right. She pushes

wall. I stumble, momentarily disoriented by the sudden change

in some kind of massive greenhouse. Lush greenery surrounds us on

243

Lisa: Strango Introductions

The air is thick with the

flowers.

cotton outfit, so comfortable in

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

into this indoor jungle, a thought strikes me with the force of a physical blow. I could

place. I could turn around right now and bolt. My guide is tiny. I could easily outpace her if I tried,

But then what?

quickly as it appeared. I have no idea where I am or how to get out of this place. Those endless, identical corridors would become a maze. I'd be caught in minutes, if

who knows what punishment would await me

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

his feet, and he peers through spectacles at a newspaper covered in unfamiliar script. A lavish spread of tea and snacks

for normal adult

kind of booster that gets him to the level he needs

too

chair. I stumble, barely catching myself as I fall into the seat. The woman bows to the old

forming on my body. I shift in my seat,

Would rather not

something about this old man that puts me at ease. A sense of warmth, of friendliness,

we've never met.

I should be on high alert. Instead, I find myself relaxing in his presence, my guard lowering despite my best efforts

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 sense of 243

security.

I force myself to stay alert. I won't fall for whatever game they're

his Ble. 1

old man turns a page in his newspaper, seemingly oblivious to my internal study him, searching for any hint of malice or deception. His wrinkled

unhurried as he reads.

movements

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 sharp and clear,

says, his voice surprisingly strong and deep for such

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