The sudden, dry bark from the corner of Room Three didn't just break the morning silence; it ripped through the short lived relief in the room like a jagged piece of shrapnel. On the small floor mat near the window, Sasha’s tiny body was twisted into a tight, rigid knot. His small chest was expanding so violently against his ribs that his skin looked translucent, his chest bone sinking inward as he fought to drag a single molecule of air into his lungs. The clear, sweet face of my son was completely gone, replaced by a deep, purple flush that spread from his neck up to his small temples.
"Sasha!" I screamed, my fingers instantly ripping away from Isaac’s grip on the bed.
I fell to my knees beside the mat, my hands shaking so hard I could barely touch his shoulder. A thick, sticky yellow
