Talk About the Direct Approach...

Chapter Forty-Eight: Us Vs. Us Vs. Them Vs. Them

*Macy's POV*

Given the chance, I would remain in a comatose state for the entirety of a week. Sometimes, life is just like that. This is especially one of those weeks.

So when I feel a sharp stab in my arm, and the world goes black once again, I think Screw it, I'm staying here. Have fun dealing with that mess, everyone else.

But of course, I'm not that lucky.

I can't tell you what time it is when I wake up from the groggy, dead state I was totally ok with staying in. All I know is that sunlight is streaming in from a window directly into my eyes, and it causes a whine to escape my lips. I go to turn away from it, only for the pain to shoot up my shoulder and my eyes to dart open as I yelp.

I am lying on a couch, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Next to me, someone is leaning on the couch, sitting on the floor, head slumped. They jump up as soon as I whine though, and faster than I can say "Ow" I see Cayton's concerned blue eyes staring at me.

Despite the pain, I manage a smile. "I'm happy to see you, but if you could just, like, knock me out again that would be fantastic."

He pays no attention to my request, instead rushing to examine me. His hands dart out to grab my face, but pause right before. His eyebrows are furrowed deeply, and the concern is so palpable on his face it makes me feel immediately guilty.

"Cayton...why...why can't I feel my legs?"

But not too guilty.

His eyes shoot open, wide as a dinner plate. The concern skyrockets to astronomical proportions, and I see a fire of anger beginning to burn in his eyes.

"I'm kidding," I say, actually feeling guilty now.

That anger quickly becomes the emotion at the forefront, and it's directed at me. I give him a sheepish smile, to which he opens his mouth to say something--no doubt, scolding.

"Macy?" Waylon's voice cuts him off. and I turn my head to see Waylon cautiously approaching.

"I'm not dead yet bitches," I smile up at him, and I see the ghost of a smile forming on his lips. I make a move to sit up, but immediately feel Cayton's hands on my shoulders, pushing me back.

"Oh no you don't," he says. "You still need time to heal."

I take a moment to assess myself. I feel sore all over, but the most pain is concentrated around my shoulder. Expected, of course. The pain isn't as bad as I would expect though. Nothing compared to the first transformation only a few days ago.

God, only a few days ago. Maybe a week? Maybe a month, actually? I don't know. I feel like I lost all sense of time. So much has happened my head is still spinning. I try to orient myself in the present, but find even that hazy. Today alone has been long. In fact, for all I know, that was yesterday...

"Cayton, how long was I out?" I ask. I adjust myself to relieve my injured shoulder of some pressure.

"A few hours. 6, 7 maybe?"

"Sure wish it would have been 6 days instead," I comment, realizing now how tired I truly am.

Cayton shakes his head, putting his hand on mine and stroking my hair. "I know you've been through a lot. But don't worry, we're going home soon." I close my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy being pet--like a dog--and breath deeply.

"What are we waiting on?" I ask after a minute.

"There's...a lot of discussion going on right now," he says, almost hesitantly.