Iggy sat up. "What started?"
"He's the reason that I'm here." She looked at the shredded shirt on the floor. "It was just him and me. When he got really sick, nothing I did helped him. I wasted all of my resources to become a doctor… for him, but he ran away without considering me at all. When I found him, he was here. Lot promised him the virus… he had him working day and night to earn it." She peered at the little shredded holes in Iggy's knees and then at the burn holes on his thighs. "It was never enough.
"He died in the room that you stay in. Lot wouldn't do it for him, and Aster was nowhere to be found. Since then, they've kept me here to pay off his debts… What are they? I have no idea. I just know that I'm trapped here, a slave, and I will probably die here, too." She peered into Iggy's eyes. The tip of her nose was purpled, her eyes were full, yet not a single tear fell. She swallowed once and nodded, "are you ready?"
Iggy hadn't even noticed that the dreadful itching in his chest had lessened and the sharp burning pain of the incision was weak enough to work on. He lied backwards, staring up at the ceiling, while she leant over him again. She pushed on the incision and Iggy could feel wetness seep out of it and over his skin. She quickly wiped it away.
"This is the worst infection that I've ever seen." She shook her head and exhaled. "Your body can't fight this on its own. You need to go to the clinic and have this looked at, or something worse will happen."
Iggy flung his forearm over his eyes. "I can't do that."
"How come?" He ignored the question. She tilted her lips to the side and breathed out of her nose. "Whatever… You must have your reasons." She looked down at the medicine patch on his hip, and pointed at it. "You could take this anti-inflammatory patch off, then your body would heal."
He dropped his arm onto the bed and stared back at the ceiling. "I can't do that either."
"You know what's going to happen, then? Do you want to die?"
"I can't say that I want to live."
She cleared her throat and pressed on the incision. "I believe in choice. If you don't want to live, I won't be the one to stop you from doing what you need to. It just sucks, because…" She became very quiet. She laid the first few strips of gauze along his wound. She sealed the edges with tape, then started laying tape all over it so that it would be completely covered. "It sucks, because you seem like a good person. Maybe it's because of what you did earlier. By not biting me and getting Lot and Aster out of the house. I don't come across good people who do that often, if at all." She straightened her back and stood before him. "You're good for now."
Iggy tilted his chin forward and gazed at the clean mound of bandages that fully hid the ugliness beneath so well that he could have possibly forgotten about it. He caressed it with his fingertips, smiled and sat up.
They met eyes in the quietness. And as if she was dreaming, her eyes dazed, and she found herself staring at him, thinking that he was beautiful. That he didn't deserve hell. That he… she stopped herself. How could she be hopeful for someone else when she couldn't even do that for herself?
"Thank you," he said. "I appreciate this much more than you know." He swung his arms out wide and caught her by surprise in a large hug. Her body stood straight and stiff and her hands flipped up into the air. She was like a bag of twigs in his embrace. His ear buried into her abdomen, just inches above her hard belly button, and he listened to the rumbling of her empty stomach. Then, he pulled back. His palms dangled on her bony hips for a moment before he let go of her. He peered over at the ripped shirt on the floor and pushed his shoulders together to squeeze in his chest.
Becca was spooked by the affection. She quickly spun around and flipped open the bottom drawer of her dresser. On top, there was a bright yellow sweater with a hood. She pulled it out and handed it to him. He took it, holding it out and away from himself. "Go on," she said. "You can have it. I mean, you obviously don't have anything else to wear, right?" She pushed his hand and sat next to him on the bed. "So, take it."
Iggy opened it up. He put it on and pulled it down over his stomach. Sadly, it was too short to cover his lower belly. He looked at her and she shrugged.
"It's all that I have," she claimed.
"I understand."
"So… Lot and Aster. Geeze-" she dropped her chin and sighed "-how do I ask?"
"Just ask."
Becca licked her lips before lifting her gaze. "What do you owe them? And what do I have to do with it?"
"I don't know what you mean," Iggy attempted to omits. He knew he was a terrible liar, and even worse when he pretended that he knew nothing.
She hunched her shoulders uneasily. "I assume something is going to happen for tomorrow. His friends are coming to stay the night, and I entertain their parties."
"Entertain?"
Her shoulders tensed and went higher. "Yes. Entertain. It's the usual… but he mentioned that I would be spending a lot of time with you, and I'm not sure why."
Iggy gazed down at the floor and shook his head. "I have no idea," he lied, again, "but being friends isn't such a bad idea-" he looked up at her "-even if it is coming from Lot, right?"
She smothered the urge to giggle and chuckled instead. "I suppose we can be friends."
Iggy stood up. He felt a bit wobbly. "I'm going to rest for a bit," he said.
Alone in the other room, he stared at the ceiling overhead. It seemed darker and dustier now, but he still didn't mind it. He'd been in much worse conditions and he'd take this with a smile. The medicine Becca had given him was gone now, and he could feel his injury itching inside and out, but the bandages were still neat and intact. He was so grateful for what she'd done and took great comfort in knowing that she was on the same level as him, nearby, sleeping in her own room down the hall.
By the minute, the house became louder and louder, as each of Lot's friends entered through the front door. The thudding of their feet overhead sounded like a mallet knocking against a wooden slab. There were probably only three or four people coming in, but their joyous screams and congratulations were exchanged like money, filling the entire house with thick pungent energy. The guests had voices that were wild and unsophisticated, flowing through the walls with poor grammar and artless taste in words. These people were much like Lot and Aster, especially in the sense that they enjoyed cruel dinner dates.
Iggy felt so bad for Becca.