Cold.
The biting coldness did not come from the air, but seeped out from deep within the bone marrow, winding up like a snake along every inch of broken bone and every torn muscle, and eventually condensed into a heavy piece of ice in the chest. Yiyu closed her eyes, but her consciousness was extremely clear, as if she were sinking at the bottom of a cold and turbid deep pool. She could clearly "hear" her weak heartbeat. Every beat involved her broken ribs, bringing about a sense of suffocation on the verge of death.
The darkness was as thick as ink and enveloped her. But beyond this desperate darkness, another voice penetrated stubbornly.
"... Trash! Even a dog is more useful than you!" The man's rough roar was mixed with the dull sound of a blunt instrument hitting the flesh, one after another. That's her father.
"Don't beat me to death... The place is dirty..." The woman's high-pitched voice, trembling with a hint of disgust, was her mother's.
Yiyu huddled in the corner, like a discarded rag. The wound on his forehead was sticky and warm, blood flowed down into his eyes, and his vision was scarlet. She vaguely saw the rolling pin held high by the man, and the texture of the wooden stick was distorted in the dim light. This time, she didn't even have the strength to raise her arms to block.
Death... Is this what it is?
The moment the heavy wooden stick fell with the sound of wind, an irresistible suction force suddenly grabbed her! Cold and slippery, like the tentacles of a giant beast in the deep sea, it dragged her consciousness arbitrarily, ruthlessly peeling her away from the narrow space full of blood and curses!
The last remaining sight in front of me was my father's face twisted with rage.
