SONG: Loved Despite of Great Faults by Blonde Redhead

She felt like she was living in a dream. Not a good one, but not exactly a nightmare either. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she was home now, that she was alive. It felt like she was floating a couple of centimetres above the ground at any given moment, not quite present but lingering just above.

Though she wasn't in the arena anymore, Iris still had to look over her shoulder constantly. Not for Careers; this time, she was waiting for Boris. She knew he was going to make a move eventually, once all the cameras had moved out.

After a few days of radio silence, though, Iris tried to convince herself to relax a bit. She hadn't deluded herself into believing he would let her go, but she had started to hope that maybe she had more time to come up with an idea. Some way to keep his wrath at bay. But that wasn't how things worked in District Six. That wasn't how it worked with Boris.

"Iris!"

Iris jumped. "Huh?"

"I said your name about five times," Emily said.

"Oh," Iris replied. "Sorry."

"It's alright. I was just going to ask if you could take Jordie to the market."

"Yes. For what?"

"She wants spice," Jordie said, entering the living room.

"Spice?"

"Yeah. I thought I would try my hand at cooking."

"But there's still bread left," Iris said.

Emily frowned. "We have so much food now. You don't have to have bread for every meal."

"Right. I forgot." Even after the time in the Capitol, eating the most delicious food she'd ever had, the idea of actually cooking a meal didn't occur to Iris. She had spent the years since her mom died eating whatever she could find, which usually wasn't anything that required cooking. "What are you going to make?"

"Well, there's a cookbook here. But all of the recipes have different spices in them, and apparently spice is the only thing the Capitol didn't provide."

"We'll go!" Jordie said.

"You only want to go because you want to get candy as well."

"And spices. Of course. Mainly for the spices."

Iris rolled her eyes. "Sure." She got to her feet. How long had she been sitting there? She couldn't remember. She spent most of her days far away now, stuck in her mind. Going to the market would do her some good. "Let's go."

/

Jordie happily led the way to the market. The three of them had also gone there the day before, not because they needed anything - but none of them had ever bought groceries Uptown before, and the idea of it excited even Emily. The small percentage of the wealthy in their District had first choice at food and other supplies; the slums got their leftovers. It was strange knowing that she, too, was now one of the few wealthy people in the district.

"Iris, when do you think the stuff from the Capitol will get here?" Jordie asked, drawing Iris from her thoughts.

She smiled. "You're really keen on learning how to play the guitar, huh?" It was practically all he'd talked about since she showed him how to use the catalogue. She'd never seen him so excited about something before.

"Yes. And, you know, I want you to have your painting stuff."

Iris pulled a face at him. "Oh, sure you do."

"I do!"

"Whatever you say," Iris teased. It was almost disconcerting, having moments of normalcy like these. Only a few weeks ago, she'd been fighting mutts and watching her friends die, and now she was grocery shopping. She didn't understand how she was meant to bounce back so quickly.

They had gone to the market every day, mainly for the novelty of it, not because they actually needed anything. It was a nice feeling, being able to afford things. Iris got a rush, every time she felt the cool metal of the coins in her pocket.

Jordie seemed to feel the same. He seemed to get giddy with excitement when they went to the market, even if the things there weren't particularly interesting. Food, metal scraps, and medicine were usually the only things on sale. But it didn't matter. Iris loved seeing her brother so happy for once. Now that they had access to food, and didn't have to eat out of dumpsters any more.

The market they used to go to, in the slums on the other side of the district, usually only had the shit no-one else wanted to buy. Stale bread, wormy vegetables, mouldy cheese. But they lived in the nice part of the district now. Away from the factories. Uptown with the mayor, the Peacekeepers, the factory owners. Iris didn't think she would ever get used to it.

There was, of course, a large part of her that felt guilty. Her old neighbours were still stuck in the slums, breathing in toxins, eating food that made them sick. Hell, her dad was still there. Iris didn't understand what made Uptown people so much better than people in the slums. Why did Iris suddenly deserve to eat when she didn't before?

But it was hard to feel guilty about Jordie having enough to eat. Having clothes that fit him for once. The joy he'd had, trying on brand new shoes? Iris wouldn't exchange that feeling for the world. Even his new school was infinitely better. They were in a new school district now, so he'd had to move. He hadn't started yet, but he seemed excited about it. "Maybe there'll be books I haven't read," is what he said when he found out.

And besides, maybe they would find some way to make it fair. Iris thought that, when they went to visit their dad (which she had decided she and Jordie would do once a month), maybe they could give food and clothes to their old neighbours. Assuming they didn't get mugged for all they were worth first.

That was another thing that had occurred to Iris - they would have to be extra careful going out, now. Everyone would recognise her. Everyone would know that she now had money. There was a reason why Uptown people never visited the slums - first of all, why would they want to - because they would never leave with all the things they'd had when they went in. It was all too likely that Iris could be mugged or even beaten by people wanting to take her money.

Jordie already knew how to fight - most slum kids did, out of necessity - but maybe he'd better start carrying around a knife, just in case. We're never going to be safe. Not in our district. Not in the Capitol, Iris thought grimly.

Jordie clapped his hands in front of her face. She jumped. Jordie frowned. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"That thing where your eyes glaze over like you've gone somewhere else."

"Oh," Iris said. "Sorry." Her mind had been wandering more than usual since she'd been home.

"It's okay. But did you hear what I said?"

"No."

"I said, we need to find Emily's spices."

"Oh. Yeah. I don't know where to get those."

"I'm sure there'll be a shop here somewhere. Remember when we used to walk Uptown at dinnertime, and all those good smells would come from the houses?"

"Yeah. We nearly got locked up." Not long after their mother died and their father started disappearing into himself, Iris had used to take Jordie to scavenge in the Uptown trash cans. They'd found all sorts of goodies - a wooden spoon they'd eventually had to burn one winter, an unopened can of beans, a pair of baby mittens - but one night, they'd been spotted by a Peacekeeper doing a patrol. They'd barely gotten away, and the only reason they had was because they'd hidden in a dumpster in an alleyway. Apparently the Peacekeeper hadn't felt they were worth dumpster diving for.

"Well, yeah. But I mean that they have to get their ingredients somewhere. And the market we used to go to sure as hell doesn't sell thyme or nutmeg."

Iris felt a tap on her shoulder, and startled. She turned around, itching to reach for the knife in her sock. Behind her stood a large man she didn't recognise, with greasy hair and blue eyes. "Are you ready?"

"What?" she asked, confused and a little scared. Jordie stepped closer to her, and she squeezed his wrist.

Two more men approached, standing either side of the first man. One was tall and skinny like a string bean, and the other had a face full of acne. Iris had a horrible feeling in her stomach. She pushed Jordie behind her. "Iris?" Jordie asked, voice trembling.

"Look," Iris said, trying to keep her voice calm. If I can survive the Hunger Games, I can survive a couple of thugs. Never mind that she had won against teenagers, not burly, fully-grown men. Although Acne only looked a few years older than she was."We don't want any trouble. How about I give you my money, and you let my brother and I go home?"

Greaseball reached into his pocket. He brought his hand out slightly, showing Iris the handle of a knife. She gulped. How quickly would she be able to get her knife out of her sock? And how would she do it while shielding Jordie and keeping an eye on the other two men?

There wasn't a doubt in her mind that this had something to do with Boris. If they were going to mug her, they would have done so already - they wouldn't still be standing there calmly, waiting for her to make the first move.

"That's not going to work. We have to take you to him."

"Yeah, I know," Iris sighed. She took her bag off her shoulder and passed it to Jordie. If she somehow had a chance to run for it, she didn't want anything to slow her down. "Alright. I'll come with you. Jordie, go home."

"What?" Jordie protested, his voice rising an octave. "No! You can't go with them!"

"Jordie, please," Iris pleaded. "It's fine. Go home."

"No way."

"I'll be okay."

Jordie looked frantically between Iris and the men. Iris wanted to scream at him to leave - if only she had come to the market by herself. She would have felt far more in control if he wasn't here. If it was just her own life she had to look out for, that was fine. But how could she handle Jordie's as well?

Stringbean took a step towards him, and Iris gave Jordie a shove. "Go, Jordie!" Jordie shot her a frightened look before backing away. Iris turned away from him. She had a feeling he wasn't going to go home as she had told him to - she needed to get away before he got a stupid idea, like following them. "I'll come with you. Let's just go."

Stringbean and Acne grabbed an arm each, and Iris fought down the bile rising in her throat. She looked around the market frantically, hoping for help, but knowing none would come. People were looking away from her, avoiding catching her eye. No one in District Six got involved in something they didn't have to - it was practically a written law.

Greaseball led them away from the market, and down a series of shabby alleyways that got progressively more dodgy. Maybe if she kicked Acne in the balls, she would be able to use her free hand to get the knife from her sock… no, that wouldn't work, because of course the other two would be on top of her. Why else would Boris send three of them? He knew she was good at fighting. Maybe she could flag down a Peacekeeper… but the Peacekeepers were just as corrupt, and there was a reason Greaseball was cutting through alleys and side streets. Even if she wanted to, there were no Peacekeepers to call.

Iris felt sick to her stomach, knowing there was not a thing she could do to save herself. She could only hope that Jordie had done what she told him to and gone home. It was good that they hadn't tried to take him, too. At least by herself there was only one life to worry about.

Any ideas she might have had of grabbing her knife were lost once they got to the slums. Apparently no longer worried that Peacekeepers might check the alleyways, the men dragged Iris into one and patted her down. Greaseball quickly found the knife in her sock, and gestured for the other two to pat her down again. At least they were professional about it - Iris had half expected them to grope her - but they spent no longer than they had to on the job. Greaseball smiled at her, showing off a mouth of rotten teeth. He dangled the knife in front of her face. "Is this a lucky charm?"

She was tempted to snatch it out of his grasp - she was quick enough - but there was still the knife in Greaseball's pocket to think about, and the other two definitely had weapons of their own. She didn't like her chances. "It's obviously not very lucky, is it?" Iris spat.

He smiled, and flicked the knife open. "Guess not." He brought it up to her face and traced a gentle line on her cheek. She could feel a small bead of blood trickling down her cheek like a teardrop.

"Let's get going," Acne said, glancing at the end of the alleyway. He seemed to be the most nervous of the group - his eyes flicked in every direction, like he was expecting attackers to melt from the shadows and jump him.

Being back in the slums didn't feel good. It brought back all the things Iris hoped she might be able to leave in the past. Poverty, hunger, desperation. She should have felt in control, with her new Victor status, and her money and nice house, but she felt as helpless as she ever had. There was nowhere for her to run to now.

The men led her into a warehouse she'd never seen before. She wondered how many facilities Boris had under his belt. Stringbean and Acne tied her to a chair, and Greaseball wandered off somewhere - probably to get Boris. Iris shivered. The air was damp and mildewy, and already a chill was creeping into her bones, though that could have been due to anxiety rather than temperature. She had no idea what was going to happen to her. She just hoped they would leave her alone after this. After Boris got what he wanted.

She wasn't sure how long they left her there - it might have only been a few minutes - but every second seemed to drag. She was sure Boris was doing this on purpose, letting her sit and get more and more frightened as time passed. He wanted her flustered, and more likely to agree to do whatever he said. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

The warehouse was derelict, but not abandoned. She was aware Boris owned several properties - she didn't know where most of them were located, but it made sense to her that he didn't want all of his loot in one spot. It had probably been used for storing vehicles at one point. Now, it was empty. Concrete floors, concrete walls, no windows. There was a dark stain in the corner that sent chills down her spine.

She heard the creak of a door from somewhere behind her. She could hear the familiar clicking of his expensive boots, slowly approaching her from behind. He was taking his time. He wanted her to be nervous.

A hand dropped onto her shoulder and she tried to conceal her flinch. Too late. Boris chuckled as he stepped in front of her. "Iris. How nice to see you again."

Boris was not particularly scary in appearance. He was the same height as she was, and had mousy hair and pale skin like most of the people in District Six. But even though he was average in appearance and not particularly intimidating, Iris was terrified. Because she knew what he did to people who wronged him. Everyone who worked for Boris was well aware of what would happen if they tried to steal from him. And Iris' mistake was as good as theft in Boris' eyes. She had been trusted, and she had failed; now she had to pay.

Iris forced herself to meet his gaze. She was nervous, but she didn't want him to know she was. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. "I can't say I feel the same."

"Well, I'm hurt," Boris said, putting a hand over his heart like she had offended him. Iris didn't say anything. "It was a big surprise when you volunteered. All to get away from me? I feel like I should be honoured, considering how highly you think of me."

Iris tried not to roll her eyes. "Yeah, well, don't flatter yourself. It wasn't just for you."

"You did it for your brother as well, hm?"

Iris wished she hadn't mentioned Jordie. She didn't want Boris to talk about him. "I didn't want him to be hungry anymore."

"Well then, I guess we'd better keep you alive?"

"Preferably."

Boris smiled. "Tell me, Iris. How many people did you kill?"

Iris closed her eyes. She didn't want to think about it. She could still see them all, feel them all, hear them all… "If you watched the Games, you would know."

"I want you to tell me."

"Why?"

Boris cocked his head to the side. "I want to know how you feel about it."

"Why don't you ask me that instead?"

"Because I don't think you'll answer honestly. So I'm going to ask you again. How many people did you kill?"

Iris felt responsible for all of the people who had died in the arena, not just the ones she killed. She had killed Axel, by hurting him instead of helping him. She had killed Christopher, by not reacting quick enough. She had killed Kasia, by allowing Kasia to kill herself. She had killed River, by setting the trap that weakened him. She had killed Agata, by not convincing her to live. Sure, she hadn't delivered the killing blows, but she was still responsible, in part, for all of them. But she didn't want Boris to know that. "Five," she whispered. "I killed five people."

"Did you know that technically, you now qualify as a serial killer?"

"What?"

"Of course, you might not have wanted to kill. Maybe you could say that the circumstances were different, but they weren't, really. You hunted, you murdered, you conquered."

"I didn't have a choice!" Iris protested. Her voice sounded loud in the large, empty room. She hadn't meant to raise her voice. She hadn't meant to let him under her skin.

Boris smiled. "Oh, yes, I'm sure that's what you tell yourself. I bet you still don't sleep at night."

Iris closed her eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"Was killing them worth it?"

"Stop asking me these questions," Iris said, opening her eyes and glaring at him.

"Do you regret it?"

"Stop."

"Do you feel like you earned your money fairly?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Iris shrieked.

Boris slapped her hard across the face. Iris gasped, partly with shock and partly with fear, and blinked away the stars. She forced herself to look at him again. He smiled. "You will pay what you owe me."

She nodded. "Yes, okay, whatever. I'll give you the money I owe you for the morphling." She could care less about the money. She would still have more left over than she would ever be able to spend.

"Fantastic," Boris said, shaking out his hand.

"Can I go now?"

"Well, payment isn't punishment," Boris said. Iris felt her stomach sink. What was he going to do to her? "I still have to punish you."

Boris made a gesture to someone behind her. Iris wondered if there was a whole audience back there that she didn't know about. Not that it made much of a difference. She knew that no one could help her right now, except herself.

There was what sounded like a scuffle somewhere behind her. Iris wished she could turn around so she could see what was happening. She didn't have to wonder for much longer. Greaseball emerged from behind her, dragging a squirming, gagged Jordie.

"Jordie!" Iris strained against the ropes binding her. That stupid kid… of course he had followed her. She felt a wave of anger and love for her brother. "Let him go, you son of a bitch."

Boris hit her again, on the other side of her face this time. Jordie made a muffled noise of protest. "Your brother is very devoted to you, Iris. Quite quick on his feet, too. He followed you the whole way here without my men knowing he was there. I could use talent like that."

Iris could feel tears beginning to form in her eyes, and she blinked them away. "Just let him go, okay? You don't want him. You want me. I'll give you what I owe you, just please don't hurt him."

"Oh, I'm not going to hurt him." Boris reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Her knife. He clicked it open and pressed it to Jordie's throat.

"No!" Iris screamed.

Boris smiled. He flicked the knife closed again, and brought it away from Jordie. A tiny cut had opened on his throat, but otherwise her brother was unharmed. "You are." Boris stepped towards her and flicked the knife open again. For a second, Iris thought he was going to stab her, but instead he cut the zip ties binding her to the chair.

The ropes fell away. Iris stared at him, confused. She glanced at Jordie, who seemed unharmed except for a black eye. He looked just as puzzled as she felt. Warily, Iris stood, half expecting Boris to hit her again. But he didn't. He only watched her. His calmness was unnerving - Iris almost wished he would hit her. At least then she would know how to deal with it.

Boris handed her the knife and pushed her towards Jordie. Bemused, Iris looked at the knife in her hand - why the hell would he have given her a knife? - and then back at Boris. He nodded. "Cut him."

Iris took a step backwards, away from Jordie. "What? No."

Boris nodded at Greaseball, who punched Jordie in the stomach. Jordie groaned and doubled over. "Don't fucking touch him!" Iris lunged at Greaseball, shrieking and scratching every piece of exposed flesh she could find. She knew he was doing this to agitate her, and that she was doing exactly what he wanted her to, but she couldn't just stand by when Jordie was in pain. She flicked open the knife and prepared to stab him. She was going to kill him, slit his throat and watch him bleed out.

Greaseball grabbed her around the waist and threw her to the ground. The knife clattered away. She decided to stay there. If Boris wanted her to stand, he'd have to make her. There were bleeding nail marks all over Greaseball's face. Iris was pleased that she'd managed to hurt him - and disappointed that he had thrown her off before she could do more.

"Are you okay, Jordie?" Jordie nodded at her, tears streaming down his face. She looked back at Boris. "Why are you doing this?"

Boris shrugged. "Fun?" He laughed. "I told you. Punishment. You love your brother very much. Well, you both have to learn that love hurts as much as hate does."

"Aw," Iris said, sticking out her lower lip. "Did Tally break up with you? Poor baby."

Boris only smiled at her. He looked at Greaseball again. "Hit him." Iris took a tentative step forward, and punched Jordie as gently as she could on the arm, the way she would have punched him if he was being annoying. Boris made an impatient noise. "No. Properly."

"I won't," Iris said.

Boris slapped her again, even harder this time. Dark spots danced in front of her eyes. She was on the ground, her hands stung… she had grazed them when she fell… when had she fallen?

"Hit him."

Iris stuck up her middle finger. "Go fuck yourself."

Boris kicked her hard in the ribs. She curled in on herself, wheezing, trying to force some air back into her lungs. Boris grabbed her around the upper arm and yanked her to her feet. She imagined bruises already blossoming where he had grabbed her.

Jordie was frantic, fighting as hard as he could against Greaseball and the ropes. Iris looked at Boris. "Just let us go. I have so much money. I'll pay you back all I owe and more."

"Hit him."

"No."

His next punch broke her nose. Her poor nose was always being targeted. Iris felt dizzy. Hot blood dripped down her face and the back of her throat, and she swallowed. She didn't want to give Boris the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. She started to work up a mouthful of blood and phlegm.

"Hit him."

Iris spat. The glob of muck hit Boris in the cheek. He made a noise of disgust and wiped it away. His eyes were like slate, cold and unfeeling. Iris wondered if he felt anything at all besides anger and whatever it was he got out of beating people to death.

"Untie him."

Greaseball pulled the gag from his mouth and untied Jordie. Her brother didn't waste a second. He threw his entire body weight - which was not very much - at Boris. He kicked and shrieked and punched until Greaseball ran forward and yanked him away. She threw Jordie to the ground like a ragdoll.

Iris rushed to him and grabbed his shoulders. "Jordie? Jordie, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, sitting up. Iris pulled him to her protectively, even though he was taller than she was. "Are you?"

Iris stroked his hair, but didn't look away from Boris. She didn't want him to sneak up behind her. "Yes."

"You should've just hit me."

"Never."

She had been so busy looking at Boris, she forgot to look at Greaseball. He grabbed her under the arms and forced her to her feet, holding her arms tightly behind her back. Before she could react, he had zip tied her wrists. Jordie jumped up and tried to pull her from Greaseball's grasp. "Jordie, it's okay." Greaseball shoved Jordie away with one hand, forcing him to take a few steps back.

"No! Let go of her!"

Boris smiled. "This is far better than what I had planned."

"Oh yeah?" Iris spat. "What did you have planned?"

"Oh, nothing too interesting. I was going to hurt you, of course. Break a few bones, perhaps. But this is much better." He looked at Jordie. "Very glad you showed up. Hit her."

"No!" Jordie shrieked.

"Don't hurt him -" Boris kicked Jordie in the back of the knees. Iris shrieked as her brother sank to the ground. "You fucker!" she screamed. "Don't hurt him!"

Jordie scrambled to his feet, trembling from head to toe. He didn't look to be too injured - but it didn't matter. He was never supposed to be put in this position. If only she had worked harder to convince him to go home… if she had managed to find some way to escape, or if she had gone to the Peacekeepers before Boris came for her… maybe then Jordie wouldn't be in this position. Whichever way she looked at it, it was her fault.

"Hit her."

"Fuck you!" Jordie shrieked, his voice cracking. Boris punched him in the nose. He stumbled backwards, obviously dazed.

"Just hit me, Jordie," Iris sobbed, fighting desperately against Greaseball and the zip ties. She wouldn't put it past Boris to kill Jordie to make a point. What purpose would she have, if Jordie died? "Don't hurt him! You can have all of the money, all of it!"

"Hit her."

"No!"

Jordie had two black eyes now. Greaseball covered Iris' mouth, apparently sick of her screams. She sunk her teeth into his flesh.

"Fuck!" He tried to pull away. Iris bit down harder. She could taste blood. "Let go, bitch!" He had no choice but to let go of her, and wrapped his free hand around her throat. He squeezed, but still she didn't let go. She was going to take a chunk of his flesh with her if she could.

Something hit her hard in the stomach. Iris let go and sank to her feet, gasping. She spat a mouthful of Greaseball's blood onto the concrete and looked up at Boris, who seemed unimpressed. "Neither of you seem to understand how this works," Boris said. "Hit her."

Jordie shook his head. Tears streamed down his face. Greaseball stomped over to him - Iris seemed to have done more to anger him than actually hurt him. He punched Jordie viciously in the stomach.

"Stop it!" she yelled.

"Hit her."

"Jordie, it's okay, just do it - "

"No," Jordie gasped. He curled in on himself, trying to shield his body from the blows raining down on him. "I won't."

"It'll all be over. All you need to do is hit her."

"I won't."

"Jordie, stop being so stubborn! Just hit me! Please!" Iris begged. She'd survived worse, Jordie's skinny arms couldn't possibly do any real damage to her. Why couldn't he understand that?

Iris heard the crack as one of Jordie's ribs broke. "Stop it," she sobbed. "You're going to kill him."

Boris only smiled. "Hit her."

"Never," Jordie croaked, blood trickling from his split lip.

Greaseball kicked him again, and Jordie threw up. His vomit mixed with the blood on the floor. Greaseball stepped back in disgust, and looked at Boris for instructions. Jordie groaned in pain, and Iris knew he couldn't take much more.

"Hit her."

"I'll hit him!" she yelled. All three of them looked at her. "I'll do it," she repeated. She met Jordie's eyes. He nodded at her. "Will you let us go after this?"

"Depends how good the hit is."

"It'll be good," Iris replied, feeling sick. Greaseball hauled Jordie to his feet. Jordie leaned heavily against him. He looked like he was about to be sick again. She hoped he got it on Greaseball.

Iris took a tentative step towards him. Her hands were still tied behind her back. "Cut the zip ties," she said. Boris did as she asked. She didn't want to hit her brother. She didn't want to hurt him. But she knew she had to.

She pulled her fist back. She didn't want to look at Jordie, and so she looked away. Maybe she could pretend it was a Career, or better yet, Boris. It would have to be good. Boris wouldn't stop if it wasn't. She sunk her fist as hard as she could into Jordie's stomach. Jordie collapsed into her arms, groaning, and she pulled him away from Greaseball. They both sank to the ground, and Iris pulled Jordie's head into her lap, wiping his hair out of his face.

She looked up at Boris, tears streaming down her face. "Can we go now, asshole?"

Boris smiled at her. "You will give me 10,000 sesterces by tomorrow night."

Iris tried not to gape. It was a lot of money, though it wouldn't even make a dent in what she received each month for her Victor's allowance. It was far more than the cost of the morphling. But money didn't mean anything compared to her brother. "Okay. Is that all?"

"Not quite. It's going to be a monthly payment."

If Jordie weren't half conscious in her arms, Iris might have argued. The money didn't matter to her - she didn't need it - but she didn't want it going to Boris. "Okay. Whatever. 10,000 every month. Please just leave us alone." She hated begging. She never wanted to do it again.

"Oh, I will." Boris crossed his arms. "But I want you to remember what will happen if you make another mistake." He glanced at her barely-conscious brother. "I won't let him go next time."

"How do you know I won't just report you to the Peacekeepers?"

"You know as well as I do that they're not going to do anything."

"I think they might be interested in taking you down. Free our district from drugs."

"Me?" Boris laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I'm nothing. You think I'm at fault for our district's habits? It's so much bigger than just me, Iris. One day you might realise."

She didn't know what he meant, but his words scared her. She didn't want to hear anymore. "Whatever." She could feel tears spilling down her cheeks, and she hated herself for it. She hated that she was giving him what he wanted. Money, pain, and tears. She was pathetic. "Can we go now?"

"Yes. Don't forget."

"I won't."

Boris nodded at Greaseball, who glared at Iris once more before walking into the shadowy part of the warehouse. A few moments later, a door opened. Thin moonlight lit a path to the door.

Iris pulled Jordie to his feet, which was easy enough to do - he didn't weigh much. She didn't stop to ask any more questions. She wanted to get her brother out of there before Boris changed his mind.

With one of Jordie's arms slung across her shoulders, Iris hauled her brother to the door. With one final glance at Boris, who had not moved, and Greaseball, who stood by the door glaring, Iris and Jordie left the warehouse.

It was a long walk back to the Victor's Village. She knew vaguely where they were - close to the slums, amidst the many abandoned factories - but she was less familiar with this side of the district. She and Jordie had grown up on the other side of the slums, and usually they didn't stray too far from home. And in the dark, while half-carrying her brother, it was a whole lot harder to navigate.

She didn't know how long they had been in the warehouse - a few hours, at least - but it had felt like years. Emily would have started worrying about them hours ago. It had only meant to be a short trip to the market, after all.

"Iris?" Jordie mumbled.

"Yeah?"

"They followin'?"

"No. Don't worry."

"Don't feel good."

"I know. We're nearly home." It had crossed Iris' mind to take Jordie to their old place - it was closer - but the first aid items they needed for Jordie's injuries definitely wouldn't be there. Besides, she would still have to go Uptown to get him any kind of medical assistance. At least Jordie was responding to her, and walking a lot better. Even though he wasn't heavy, it was hard work walking with him leaning so heavily against her.

Though the trip to the warehouse had been only about thirty minutes, it took them a little over an hour to make it back Uptown. Iris almost cried at the sight of the gates of the Victor's Village - she felt tired and sore down to the bone, and worried out of her mind for her brother.

With him still leaning against her, Iris and Jordie trudged up the road to their house. The lights were all still on, and Emily hadn't bothered to close the curtains.

Through the kitchen window, Iris saw an astonishing sight. Emily and Haylee were sitting in the kitchen. Emily's head was in her hands and Haylee's arm was over her shoulders. It looked like Haylee was… comforting her? No, that couldn't be right.

Iris pushed the door open and helped Jordie over the threshold. "Emily!" she called. The door banged into the wall with a bang.

"Iris? Jordie?!" Emily burst into the hallway. "Oh thank god." She pulled them both into her arms. Iris winced as her sore nose was crushed against Emily's shoulder. "What the hell happened?"

"Business arrangements," she said. With Emily's help, she helped Jordie into the living room and laid him on the sofa. "Is Haylee here?"

"Yeah, I went to get her when you two didn't come home. Iris, what -"

"Not now," Iris said. "Haylee!"

Haylee appeared in the doorway, looking in at the living room disinterestedly. "Want me to go get a doctor?"

"Yes," Iris said, surprised that she didn't have to ask. "Please."

"I'll be back soon," Haylee said, with a cursory glance at Emily.

"Thank you, Haylee," Emily said.

Haylee grunted. "Yeah," she said. Iris heard the front door shut behind her.

Iris got to work on the buttons on Jordie's shirt. She was terrified at what damage might have been done. Hell, she had heard the crack as one of his ribs broke - what if it had punctured something? What if he had organ damage?

She finished on the buttons, and opened his shirt. She heard Emily inhale sharply, and she made a noise quite similar. Purple and red bruises mottled Jordie's chest and stomach. She didn't know how he hadn't passed out fully - he must have been in so much pain. "Oh, Jordie," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Iris, will you please tell me what happened?" Emily said. There were tears gathering in her eyes.

Iris looked down at her hands, which were resting on the couch. It was uncomfortable, crouching on the ground - she was pretty sure she had sprained her ankle getting Jordie home - but she felt like she deserved the pain, after what she had put her poor brother through. "You know Boris, right?"

Emily inhaled sharply. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

"I worked for him. Before I volunteered," Iris said. "That's actually why I volunteered. I made a mistake, and he was going to kill me. I guess, since I survived, I still had to pay somehow."

"So, what? He kidnapped you both from the market?"

"No, just me. Jordie followed us, the little idiot. I love him so much." Iris could feel tears burning her eyes. "I didn't mean for this to happen to him. He wanted me to… to hurt him, and when I wouldn't, I got hit. And then he asked Jordie to hit me…" The tears were flowing freely now. Emily wrapped her arm around Iris' shoulders. "I told Jordie to, I told him! But he wouldn't, and then I hit him just to make them stop, and -"

"Sh," Emily said softly. "It's okay." She pulled Iris in. Iris sobbed into her aunt's shoulder. "It's not your fault."

"It's completely my fault."

"Jordie should have known better."

"I should have done more to help him."

"You got him out of there alive. I don't think anyone else could have managed that."

Iris was about to protest, but they were interrupted by the arrival of Haylee with the doctor. Iris had never been more grateful that the hospital was in Uptown. The doctor, a small, dark haired woman with a bitter expression on her face, met Iris' eyes. "I don't do house visits."

"Yeah, you mentioned that a few times on the way here," Haylee said. "I think you do now."

The doctor crossed her arms. "You're paying me extra for this."

Iris stood up. "I'll pay you whatever. I don't care. Please just help my brother."

Emily patted Iris on the arm. "Go get yourself cleaned up. I'll stay with him."

"Thanks." Iris leaned down and kissed Jordie's forehead. He didn't stir. "I'm sorry, Jordie." She didn't want to leave him, but looking at his bloody face was a horrible reminder of what she had let happen to him. Iris was sure she would go crazy if she kept staring at him.

The doctor quickly took her place next to the couch. Iris made her way into the kitchen. At least now she could sort out her nose - and figure out how to get her money from the Justice Building.

Haylee had returned to the kitchen, and had helped herself to the liquor cabinet. She looked up when Iris walked in, and smirked. "Fuck around and find out, huh?"

"Fuck you, Haylee."

I got really stuck with this chapter and i kinda hate it but im sick of trying to fix it so whatever i tried my best

Also i have tonsillitis and now i'm addicted to stardew valley