The cigarette was hanging off of Zhi's lower lip as they crested the second floor. She blinked (the outer portion of her right eye was starting to swell, pushing in over the eye and pulsing its hurt in time to the rest of her body), and somehow they were in the room when she opened her eyes.
"They like. . . t'share," she said; too late. He'd gone without hearing her return on the fleas. Too bad. She fell onto the bed. She was fairly clean lately, though she suspected she'd not gotten rid of all of them. Fleas and lice were like that; take out a whole tribe and then the next round would hatch and it would start all over again.
She gasped. Falling onto the bed had been the wrong move, and her head swam. She closed her eyes, turned her head to the side. The blood from her nose, from her tongue and the places where her teeth had cut up the insides of her mouth had started to slow. It dribbled out onto the bed. She was breathing through her mouth, and even that hurt.
She closed her eyes, and wondered if it would be worth it.
She wondered if Lalataru would see through her charade.
She wondered if she would die.
"Jager," she said, not sure if he was in the room. She was a little less dizzy when she kept her eyes closed. In the overall scheme of things, it helped so little as to be laughable. She kept them shut anyways.
Reaching up, Zhi held the cigarette as she took a long drag, coughing and sputtering on the exhale. She shook, felt vulnerable and hated it. Hated that she had to wait in order to steady her breathing. Hated the convulsion in her stomach, the acrid taste of blood and bile in her mouth. Hated lots of things. What a scrag she was to keep coming up with such shitty plans.
"They like. . . t'share," she said; too late. He'd gone without hearing her return on the fleas. Too bad. She fell onto the bed. She was fairly clean lately, though she suspected she'd not gotten rid of all of them. Fleas and lice were like that; take out a whole tribe and then the next round would hatch and it would start all over again.
She gasped. Falling onto the bed had been the wrong move, and her head swam. She closed her eyes, turned her head to the side. The blood from her nose, from her tongue and the places where her teeth had cut up the insides of her mouth had started to slow. It dribbled out onto the bed. She was breathing through her mouth, and even that hurt.
She closed her eyes, and wondered if it would be worth it.
She wondered if Lalataru would see through her charade.
She wondered if she would die.
"Jager," she said, not sure if he was in the room. She was a little less dizzy when she kept her eyes closed. In the overall scheme of things, it helped so little as to be laughable. She kept them shut anyways.
Reaching up, Zhi held the cigarette as she took a long drag, coughing and sputtering on the exhale. She shook, felt vulnerable and hated it. Hated that she had to wait in order to steady her breathing. Hated the convulsion in her stomach, the acrid taste of blood and bile in her mouth. Hated lots of things. What a scrag she was to keep coming up with such shitty plans.
