Tutaminis Manor, Capitalum Building
The stars were speckles over the darkness of the night sky, and the scent of a fire from the chimney at the manor was mixed with the aroma of wet grass. She remembered counting those stars at more than one point during the night, but after she was found, everything started to blur. The chorus of voices, all familiar to her, were resounding—all rushed, blending together in a discordant piece of avant garde noise. These voices were familiar indeed, including garou presences and her good friend Jon who were all frantically working over her as she lie completely still because she was forced to. As Kara breathed now, in and out, she could already feel how much easier it was to move her chest. That sting of the gaping wound meeting the cold air was so painful, but now she took in each breath with ease.
When her eyes fluttered open, she blinked a couple of times to focus, and the first thing that drew her attention was the figure at the foot of her bed, sitting in her lounge chair. At first, her eyes hadn’t fully adjusted and all she could see was the silhouette of a man. There was an outline of someone familiar, but as she traced over her visitor’s features, her first instinct was to panic. The muscles in her body hadn’t fully awoken with her, and unfortunately Kara could hardly move at the speed she wanted to, to get away. And where was her wand, anyway? How did she end up in her bed?
She brought her hand across to her opposite arm where she noticed a bandage. Curious, Kara narrowed her eyes as she traced her fingers over the cloth. Another cut…Suddenly, there was a flash of the night before, and all Kara could see was the woodgrain of the hardwood floor in her home, the shattered pieces of glass from picture frames and furniture. Then the boots that drew near. Fear poured into her, and she gasped, as she scooted herself back on the bed. Her breathing picked up, her chest heaving as the room spun and all she could hear was the growl of the man who had attacked her.
Kara put her hands to her ears but as she raised her left arm, the tug of something inside of her wrist pulled taut and resisted. She whimpered softly, her breathing now frantic and ragged as she looked down, another memory of trauma rushing to her as they implanted the tracker into that same wrist. It took her a moment to realize that it wasn’t another implant but an IV, but she’d already tried to pull it out and was about half-way successful when she was struck by the memory of the bloody scene in her bathroom, the day she ripped it out of her arm. ‘I have to go, I have to get out of here!’ She kept telling herself, but she couldn’t so much as stand, let alone run…and why did her face hurt so bad when she moved it, even the slightest shift in expression?
There were tears in her eyes, and Kara threw her legs over the bed as she sobbed, wanting to get away from here, whatever this place was—and whoever was watching over her. The sense of danger was hard to shake…