During the night my sleep turned feverish, and my dreams stormed with delusion. I awoke in a cold sweat only to see the light above the door still glowed red. Sweat beaded on the surface of my skin, and I suppressed a deep shiver. Shaking, I pulled on the large comforter that sat at the foot of the couch and tried to get warm. My body felt like it was covered in ice. I thought it best to let Edgar and Mary sleep. In my confusion, I shifted onto my side only to put my full weight on my wrist. I fainted from the pain and slipped into the coldest and longest night of my life.

When I woke up again, I had sweat through my clothes and could feel the heat of my body building up and burning. I threw the large blanket off and tried to get out of my shirt.

“Help,” I croaked. It wasn’t much at all; it was a weak and desperate attempt to wake Mary or Mr. Barton, but it was enough. Mr. Barton turned on the light and gasped when he saw me. Acting quickly, he gave me a cocktail of pills, had me sit up and stay awake, and made me strip down to my boxers and sit without a blanket. He had instructed Mary to remain in the other room; even in my delusional state, I didn’t want her to see me like this. Powerful shivering took over my body, and my teeth clattered together like bricks.

“What’s wrong with me?” I managed.

Mr. Barton walked over and unwrapped my bandage.

“Look away. I don’t want you to see this,” he instructed.

I did as he said and felt cold air rush over my wrist.

“Mother of God,” he murmured.

Unable to resist, I looked over and was horrified at the sight. My wrist was puffed out to three times its normal size and was purple in color. Besides that, thick yellow pus with streaks of blood leaked from pustules that had formed. The purple discoloration continued down my hand and up my forearm. The sight made me sick.

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“Jake, your arm is infected. I’ll get you some medicine in the morning that will make you better.”

“I ca … I can’t afford anything.”

“Don’t worry about money. I can get it,” he said with grim determination.

Mr. Barton brought over a large basin of water and a washcloth. He cleaned my arm as gently as possible. After cleaning it, he re-wrapped my arm in fresh medical cloth and gave me a couple more pills with a glass of water. I drifted back into a sleep peppered with hallucinations and discomfort.

When I awoke again, Mary was approaching with a bowl of oatmeal.

“I’m not hungry,” I croaked.

“Mr. Barton says you have to eat it,” she said, her voice firm.

Not daring to fight her, I grumbled then accepted the bowl and got a few spoons of it down when Mr. Barton re-emerged with an unlabeled orange pill bottle.

“This medicine will help you, Jake,” he said as he uncapped the lid. He placed one blue pill in my bowl of oatmeal which I ate with some difficulty. Though my fever was down, I still felt weak and exhausted despite sleeping for almost twenty-four hours straight.

Things remained the same for the next three days. Throbbing pain, fever, and irrational thought plagued me. Mary and Mr. Barton took turns watching me, and the medicine Mr. Barton had acquired slowly staved back the infection in my arm, taking the swelling down and returning my arm’s coloration to something closer to normal.

Out of guilt or loyalty, Mary stayed over at Mr. Barton’s flat at night, unwilling to leave my side. Mr. Barton told me he could tell Mary really cared for me, which brought a smile to my face.

After he was satisfied that the infection was gone, Mr. Barton created a cast with thin slivers of steel and medical cloth. He coated the fabric in a thick wax-like material, and set it into a cast that was about the same as the expensive ones sold at the hospital. Though Mr. Barton wouldn’t hear of me repaying the cost of the medicine, I was sure I owed him over four units for my recovery. Without the medication, I would have lost my arm or my life. It was such a humbling experience to have people around me like Mary and Mr. Barton. They saved me in my time of need, and that wasn’t something I would forget anytime soon.