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Izzie muttering to herself went into the kitchen, she started the stove heating, put on a kettle of water to boil then went back into the bedchamber, picking up Laurel's clothes she set them over the back of a chair, set her boots next to the chair then went back to the kitchen to check on the water.Laurel woke up and lay snuggled under the covers for a minute, sniffing she frowned, was that bread she smelled, getting up and pulling on an old bathrobe and a pair of socks, she went and splashed some cold water on her face pushed her hair back and went look in the kitchen. "What are you doing Izzie?" Laurel asked tiredly, Izzie turned with a smile "I'm fixing you breakfast, sit down, there is hot tea on the table, pour yourself a cup." Laurel poured herself a cup of tea and sat down watching Izzie bustling about. Izzie glanced over her shoulder at Laurel as she stood on a stool at the stove "so what sent you scurrying back from the gathering in tears?" Laurel frowned into her tea cup. Jamie walked over to them and said, “Good job girl, I even like the way you say daddy. I’m going to have you call me that from now on. Here drink this.” Jamie handed her a tall glass. “What is it?” Kim asked. Jamie held his finger up, “NO. You say thank you daddy and you drink all that shit.” Jamie waited until Kim tentatively took the glass, she lowered her eyes to the floor, said “thank you daddy” and began drinking. He then helped her by lifting the glass up to ensure she drank every last drop. Whatever it was it was strong, and Kim could feel it burning on the way down. “Good girl that will help you relax a bit” stated Jamie. Kim looked around and felt a little lightheaded, her vision was already blurred from her not wearing her glasses, but everywhere she looked she could see people smoking, drinking or both. Everyone was naked except for Tommy and Tyson. The entire apartment was beginning to get pretty smoky too. She felt Jamie’s hand on the small of her back as he began.
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I struggled to focus. Whose face? The roundness of the face swam in focus, never sharp enough for me to see whose face it was! Was it an enemy? The face was brown, very brown. Indian? I couldn’t move a muscle. I couldn’t reach for the ax. My arms wouldn’t obey. I squinted and tried to force my eyes to work. Then a hand reached out and brushed something cold and wet across my brow and, slowly, things started to get an edge and definition. My vision began to clear.There, laying beside me, watching me intently, was a very concerned Mataoka. The world dropped away again, and faded to black, as I fell into another deep sleep.I don’t know how long I had a fever and Mataoka cared for me. It could have been a day, it could have been longer. I lost all track of time. But then, one morning, I awoke feeling much better, and chewed some thin, cold porridge that Mataoka spooned into me, and slowly I could stand up and stretch.I was still weak, but Mataoka set about getting my strength back. She.

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