Chapter c Aster

The fire burned hot in Iggy's throat. "And I will do it again if either of you make a move on her!"

Aster's shoulders hunched up and her heel stepped back. "Who are you?" Her eyebrows pulled together. "Are you staying here? Is that why you want her for yourself?" Rigid lines appeared across Iggy's forehead. His shoulders slanted down. Aster noticed each miniscule movement. She showed him her palms, submissively. "How about you come with us instead?" she suggested. "We can't help you clean up here, but we can help you clean up at our home. A shower. Some clothes. Sounds good, doesn't it?"

Lot grinded his teeth, seething. "Aster," he growled under his breath. "Have you gone bat shit crazy?"

She flipped her wrist in his direction. "You were just telling me that we need to look out for our own kind. Others like us. Isn't this a good opportunity to make a friend?" She nodded her head forward. "Can't you see the talent?"

Lot thought about it for a moment. They were in the adult movie business and needed a regular in flow of actors. Guys came and went. It was their house slave that stayed… it was a fetish thing. Guys and guys and guys all on the same unwilling girl, night after night. People paid great money for that. So, he looked back at Iggy and shrugged his shoulders. "Well? You wanna be friends?"

Iggy thought about it, too. If he went with them and it was a trap, then he could possibly fight the both of them. They seemed weak. And to be honest, he had very little to lose if he did fall into another bad situation. But then, if it wasn't a trap, that would be even better. "I guess."

Aster exhaled and held out her hand. "Your name first?"

Staring down at her hand, he said, "Robert."

She lowered her untouched hand and forced a grin. "I'm Aster. He's Lot."

Iggy couldn't have cared less. He looked back at the little girl who cradled her shoulder with the opposite hand, as it might've been broken or at the very least dislocated after he had whipped her out of Lot's grip. Still, he quickly snatched her up into his arms and took her to the open front door. He set her down on the porch. Kneeling at eye height, he said seriously, "you sit here, and don't go back inside, no matter what."

"Daddy…" she whimpered, looking back through the doorway as Lot and Aster marched out onto the porch after them.

He reached and closed the door and leaned in to gain her attention. "Forget about what's inside. Wait here for someone else to come, and then go with them. Understood?"

"Are you sure about that, Bobby?" Lot asked. At the sound of his voice the girl's skin paled and she became even more lost of words. "This isn't exactly the best place in town to leave a little girl."

Iggy glanced back at the heckler, then refaced her. "Don't go back inside." Iggy stood to his feet and followed Lot and Aster back to their car that was parked out front. While standing before the back passenger's door with his hand reaching out for the handle, he saw his reflection in the dark tinted windows. It was horrendous. Dark circles around his colored eyes and sunken bloodied cheeks. Unrecognizable. And behind him the early morning light was rising. He pulled on the scratched up door handle and got inside of the vehicle.

Looking back at the house, he could see what had drawn Aster and Lot to such a sudden stop. There was a large splash of blood across the front window blinds, so inviting for anyone of infection, and he couldn't blame them for interfering, because he would've done the same.

He settled in the back seat. He couldn't believe that he was taking off with these strangers, but he had thought it through. He had nowhere else to go. He had nowhere else to go back to. He had nothing to lose. However, the situation wasn't perfect. He could feel Aster staring at him from the front seat. He was trying his best to cover the holes in his shirt with his crossed arms without grazing his sternum wound. "I'm not trying to be rude," Aster started to defend herself. "I'm just wondering what you look like under all of that-" she gazed down at the holes in his shirt "-blood." She paused with a smile, readjusted herself, and turned back toward Iggy. "You know, Lot's my man, but I still enjoy other men's company from time to time. Are you tied down to someone?"

Iggy glanced at both of his wrists. Tied down? he pondered quietly, taking the question literally.

Aster couldn't let the silence go on for long, so she fired another question. "So… where'd you come from?"

"I…" his voice shook. He cleared his throat abruptly and said, "I got away from some people."

Lot's eyes sought him through the rearview mirror. "Ha! The hospital! I knew it. You ran away from the nut house! The looney bin? You're crazy as hell."

"No," Iggy denied. "Nowhere important. It's just been a bad night."

"I can see that," Aster whispered and turned around.

The car made a deep jerk and raced up a hill toward a two story house that was shaped like a triangle cut in half. The side that faced the rising sun was a wall of black windows. Lot drove the car up to the front porch coming as close as he possibly could before hitting it with the bumper. After he threw it in park, he glanced over at Aster, but she missed it because she was still gawking at Iggy through the side view mirror. Internally infuriated, Lot whipped his car door open and stomped to the front door of the house. Feeling the urgency, Iggy followed him. Then, Aster came up behind him closer than he would've liked, and together, they all went inside.

The first thing that Iggy saw was a steep carpeted staircase that led down into the lower level. Between them and the staircase, there was a tiled floor that wrapped over to the kitchen and dining room area. The cabinets were clean and shut, but he could smell food. Sugary things. Entirely different food than what he'd grown up on. The dining room table was large enough for six people, and it was empty with the exception of one plate loaded with untouched sugar cookies.

Trailing the unusual scent, Iggy wandered further in, not realizing that he was leaving footprints across the freshly washed tiled floor. His eyes were so fixated on the plate of cookies in all of their colorful frosting glory that he nearly walked into Becca, the young house slave. Becca was on her bare hands and knees, rigorously scrubbing the floor with a grungy wet towel, not permitted to look up at the three as they'd entered. She saw Iggy's mud caked feet and her hand stopped scrubbing.

Her skin was dark brown and her hair was kinky and black, hacked halfway down her neck unevenly as if it had been done with a knife. Her soft cheeks were somehow full despite the lack of fat on the rest of her body. Her back straightened as she looked up at Iggy from where she was on the floor and her shirt strap slipped off of her thin shoulder, exposing the curves of her upper arm and collarbone. Along the sides of her neck, on both sides, there were dark red smudges that at first glance appeared to be hickies, but with a good look the arch revealed only one thing-that they were biting marks. Scars. And they were all over her body.

Aster stared at Iggy like Iggy stared at Becca. He wondered, how? Then, the tunnel vision slowly dissipated and Iggy caught sight of the muddy trail that he had left behind. If he had ever undid the work that someone else put into making the home clean and tidy, he would've been punished. As silly as it sounds, his home was full of obsessive cleaners who couldn't stand a single imperfection, who took cleanliness seriously, and in that moment, it was as if he had teleported back in time and was home once again. He lifted his hands and walked back to the closed door to where the prints began. He broke eye contact and stared at the floor under his disgraceful feet. "I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "Please, I'll clean it up. Forgive me."