Splinters bit into the soles of young Fei Ming's bare feet, pinning him to the spot.
Below him, the floorboards shook under the weight of a violent seizure. White foam spilled over his father's lips, bubbling and dripping in thick globs onto the dirt-crusted wood.
'He's dying… he's really dying,' Ming thought to himself.
An upturned palm scraped against the floor, fingers jerking aimlessly toward the ceiling.
Every wet, ragged gasp tore through the small room, thick with the overpowering stench of beer and vomit.
"H-help…"
Not a single muscle moved in Fei Ming's face.
Deep purple bruising radiated across his cheek, throbbing in sync with the heavy, hot pulse behind his swollen-shut eye.
The skin there stretched to its absolute limit, blinding half his vision.
At his sides, his fingers twitched, still exhausted from the frantic grip required to shake the chemical powder into the bottle.
Another sudden, violent jerk arched the man's spine clear off the floor planks.
