This wasn't the ship he'd grown up on...
The stench of formaldehyde was overwhelming. He struggled to force it through his lungs as his brother slumped limply against him, gasping for air. Knives stood rigid with shock.
Our sister...why...
He watched a tiny bubble work its way behind gleaming white ribs, then disappear inside a torn lung. It reemerged an instant later through a jagged hole in her trachea.
They did this on purpose. They tormented her just to learn...
Her eyes were missing, sockets bleeding.
...how to control us...
How had Knives been so blind?
This was hell.