The Dead Cattle

I touched my daughter Lydia's burning forehead, my heart wrenching tight. The thermometer read 39 degrees; Lydia's little face was flushed red, her bangs soaked with cold sweat, eyes shut, breathing faint and uneven like a wounded little beast. "Lydia, wake up, drink some water." I whispered softly to her, but she only let out a faint whimper, as soft as a mosquito. I turned and went to the main room to dig through the medicine box. Just as I gathered the fever medicine, cooling patches, and a cup of warm water, a sudden "Bang" came from outside the courtyard door, making the door panel vibrate and hum. "Open the door! Sophia Lynn, open up now!" Claire Clark's voice was sharp and urgent, piercing my ears like needles. I pulled the door bolt, but the moment the door cracked open a bit, it was pushed wide open. Claire Clark stood blocking the doorway, her face flushed with rage. Her husband, Ben Lee, followed behind, his back slightly hunched, clutching an old straw hat, his anger even fiercer than Claire's. "My cattle is dying! You'd better drive us to the town vet station right now!" Claire stepped forward, her voice rising sharply, spitting saliva that splattered on my face. I moved to block the door: "No, my daughter Lydia has a high fever and is about to lose consciousness. I have to take her to the hospital." "What's so scary about a little girl's fever?" Ben Lee suddenly shoved me; I staggered back, my lower back smashing against the doorframe, and I gasped sharply from the pain. "Our cattle are purebred beef, worth tens of thousands!" The anger to protect my daughter surged instantly. I planted my feet and glared at them, "Use some sense! Isn't a human life worth more than cattle?" "Cut the crap!" Claire Clark stepped around me and dashed into the yard. "Where are the car keys?" I reached out to stop her, but the moment my wrist brushed her arm, Ben Lee gripped me tightly; his fingers were like iron clamps, squeezing my arm until it hurt. "Let me go!" I struggled and screamed, my throat raw from panic. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Claire Clark fling open the car door—quick and fierce—and the door groaned loudly. I was so anxious tears welled up, blurring my vision. "My daughter is really dying, please!" I begged through my tears, despair flooding out like a tidal wave. Claire Clark spat back, "What are you acting for? Who knows if you're just refusing to help on purpose." She stormed into the house suddenly; my heart tightened, wanting to follow, but Ben Lee held me back even tighter. I watched helplessly as she barged into Lydia's room, and just seconds later, came out carrying my frail daughter. Lydia lay in her arms like a leaf ready to fall, her little head tilted, eyes half-open, half-closed, too weak even to cry. "What do you think you're doing?" I screamed, furious, tearing myself away from Ben Lee and lunging to grab my daughter back, my nails nearly scratching Claire Clark's face. Ben Lee gripped my waist from behind, squeezing so tight I could barely breathe, his heavy sweat and smoke smell mixing into a nauseating stench. Claire Clark staggered, clutching Lydia, as she rushed toward the car. With a sharp smack, she threw my daughter onto the back seat; the springs creaked loudly—Lydia jolted, releasing a faint, threadlike moan of pain. "You beasts!" I screamed, watching them load the crying cattle into the car, its legs stained with blood, eyes half-closed, foam dripping from its mouth. But all my focus was on my daughter; blood surged to my head, and waves of darkness blurred my vision. By the time I broke free and lunged at the car, Claire Clark was already in the driver's seat, twisting the key as the engine sputtered to life. "Get out of the way!" she shouted, slamming the gas pedal. The wheels screeched sharply, kicking up a cloud of dust. I clung to the car door, my knuckles white with strain. The window wasn't fully closed; I could see my daughter in the back seat, frowning in pain, her little chest rising and falling slower and slower. It felt like my blood was boiling. "Put my daughter down!" I screamed, my nails digging into the metal door, the pain stabbing deep but drowned out by desperation. The car jolted violently, the sheer force yanking me backward. I lost my grip and was thrown to the ground; my elbow scraped against the rough surface, sending a fiery pain spreading instantly like chili powder scattered over an open wound.