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

my guide veers sharply to the right.

like a wall. I

of massive greenhouse. Lush greenery surrounds us on all sides,

243

Lisa: Strango Introductions

out of planters. The air is

flowers.

skin. My simple cotton

us. I trail after her, trying not to trip

thought strikes me with the force

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

But then what?

where I am or how to get out of this place. Those endless, identical corridors would become a

what punishment would await me for trying to

the fleeting fantasy of freedom and hurry to catch up

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 covered in unfamiliar script. A lavish spread of tea and snacks adorns the

for

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

too worried about my

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

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

maybe not anywhere. Would rather not

that puts me at ease. A sense of warmth,

we've never met.

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

sense of safety-it has to be some kind of trick. Maybe they've drugged me. Maybe this

security.

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

his Ble. 1

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

unhurried as he reads.

movements

I'm struck by the intensity in his

voice surprisingly strong and

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