He started choking. Even as he struggled, she didn't stop.
"Would you steady…" Trish muttered under her breath, focused only on pouring the drugs down his throat. Her hands shook, but she didn't stop. It was either this, or all of them went down together.
The boy weakly tried to push her away. His arms trembled with effort, but Miguel still held his head steady, forcing his mouth open.
His dull cry barely escaped his throat as he fought for air, but no one cared enough to stop.
Then his body jolted.
He convulsed violently. His limbs kicked and thrashed against the floor, his chest rising and falling uncontrollably as his whole body seized up.
His fingers curled in tight, twitching, and his eyes widened in terror.
A thin stream of foam bubbled from his mouth, spilling down his chin and onto the floor. The powder followed, streaking his lips, staining the carpet.
His body burned up, feverish and flushed. He couldn't breathe.
