LISA
How long has it been?
A few days?
Weeks?
The sun should keep me oriented, but a fever gets me the first night I'm there.
The girl, Marisol, comes by every so often. Always with food. A few times with bowls filled with some noxious liquid that has my nostrils trying to close, avoiding the smell coming from within.
She's expressionless as she shoves it down my throat, and I'm too weak to fight her off.
It's medicine, I think.
I think that because I slowly get better after the third bowl.
In between moments of lucidity, I dream.
Normal life. Home. Mom and Dad.
Working with Ava at Beaniverse.
Flirting with that cute guy who accidentally wandered into our professor's Eng Lit class instead of some sort of philosophy class two doors down.
Cozy, happy dreams, of a place far from here.
An escape from the reality that chains me.
