The Last Furione - Chapter 5 by Edwina Smith

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SUMMARY: Max Gueverra is attractive, 5"11, has long, jet-black hair and is extremely dangerous. Follow her story as she battles through betrayal, forgiveness, love and hate. Combines the ideas of Underworld, L. K. Hamilton and Kelley Armstrong. Please don't sue!

"WRITING" IS SAID IN JAPANESE, UNLIKE 'WRITING' WHICH IS IN ENGLISH.

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CHAPTER FIVE - WAKING UP
Voices... I could hear voices... but I couldn't tell what they were saying. I was also so cold; freezing cold... Distantly I remember thinking that this wasn't right. I never got cold, not even a chill - I control fire for gods sake! Then I fell back into blackness, where I dreamed of horrible things; things so horrible, that I hoped were too horrific to be true. As I endured those nightmares, one word stuck in my head - ‘Lycan'. What was that?

I had no sense of time whatsoever, so this fitful slumber seemed to continue forever, until I woke up screaming. My head felt like it would explode and my limbs ached so much that I thought that they were being ripped from my body. I was vaguely aware of someone applying a cold compress to my forehead and holding me down - maybe to ensure that I wouldn't hurt myself.

Whoever it was kept saying soothing things like "everything will be ok", or at least that was what I thought they said. They gave me something bitter, almost metallic, to drink and I soon drifted off again. Luckily, no dreams - bad or good - plagued my mind.

Some time later, I woke and I found that I could shift my head without it issuing screaming protests. I just sat there looking at the ceiling, trying to figure out if what happened had been a dream or reality. It took all of my courage to look down at my left shoulder and what I saw brought a whimper to my mouth and tears streaming from my eyes.

There were fresh bandages wrapped around my shoulder and I caught the faint scent of blood in the air.

I spent the next hour or two curled up in a foetal position until no more tears would come to my eyes. I felt numb and I fell into a dreamless sleep.

I hovered on the border between consciousness and unconsciousness, sleeping to waking until one time I awoke I decided I would try to stay alert and see if there were any possible routes of escape.

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It seemed to take forever for me to raise my head and sit up to lean against the headboard, but even that simple act seemed to use up all of my energy. I was extremely weak and that scared me beyond comprehension, as I always had plenty of energy to spare and was always trying to find ways to free myself of it. Another whimper threatened to escape my mouth but I stopped it before it had a chance. I do not whimper.

I looked around and gathered that I was in some sort of room, maybe three or floors up in the mansion. More like a prison. Looks like I finally got to see that attic. Oh joy. I estimated this by glancing out of the window, where I could see that the foliage of the trees outside was quite dense. Miraculously there were no bars on the window, so getting out should be easy enough and landing from a jump this height was no problem for me.

The only problem was the huge black man sitting in the chair next top the window, who was staring intently in my direction. Just what I needed. Damn.

"How are you feeling?" he enquired.

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