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

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

like a wall. I stumble, momentarily disoriented by the sudden change in

kind of massive greenhouse. Lush greenery surrounds us

243

Lisa: Strango Introductions

and spilling out of planters. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and

flowers.

of sweat immediately form on my skin. My simple cotton

marches ahead, seemingly unbothered by the giant blanket of warmth pressing down on us. I trail after her, trying not to

thought strikes me with the force of

freezes me in place. I could turn around right now and bolt. My guide is tiny. I could easily outpace her if

But then what?

to get out of this place. Those endless, identical corridors would become a maze. I'd

who knows what punishment would await me

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

to 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

for normal adult

sitting in some kind of booster that gets him to the

laugh, but I'm too worried about

barely catching myself as I fall into the seat. The woman bows to

me acutely aware of every bead of sweat forming on my body. I shift in my seat, wishing it was easier to breathe in this weather. Actually, I'm just wishing to be anywhere else in the

not anywhere. Would rather

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

we've never met.

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

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

security.

chair as I force myself to stay alert. I

his Ble. 1

seemingly oblivious to my internal study him, searching for any hint of malice or deception.

unhurried as he reads.

movements

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 sharp and clear, almost terrifying with the way they seem to stare

strong and deep for such a

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