Vivian's cheeks were rosy. He was propped up with a tablet, watching some variety show, giggling every few seconds.
Irene Harding sat at Vivian's bedside, spooning bird's nest soup into his mouth one careful bite at a time.
"There you go, sweetheart. Eat up. Once they finish extracting your brother's marrow, you'll be completely cured."
The private doctor in his white coat frowned and spoke up. "Mrs. Harding, Thomas's vitals are dropping. The volume of marrow already extracted is far beyond the safe limit. If we continue, he will die."
Irene didn't even look up. Her voice dripped with impatience.
"His worthless life, traded for my Vivian's health? He should count himself lucky."
"Increase the dosage. As long as it cures Vivian, even if he dies on that table, consider it his filial duty to the Harding family."
Filial duty.
The last thread of reason in my skull snapped clean in two.
"Filial duty my ass!"
CRACK.
I brought the bat down on the extraction machine with everything I had. Sparks erupted. The thing shrieked with the sound of shorting circuits and went dead.
The crash sent the bowl of soup flying from Irene's hands. It shattered on the floor.