"Oh my god," I whispered. Eyes wide and mortified.
On the screen, a groggy Austin was being dragged away from the sitting room, to his credit he was trying to fight back. But after his mother injected him with something, he lay on the floor of the corridor limp and lifeless. It took Meredith and Mrs. Cane to carry the body of a clearly passed-out Austin upstairs.
"Austin…" I said, speechless at the implication of their actions. He wasn't lying. They did something to him. "Shit, oh my god," I repeated.
His reddening face, rigid posture, and the snarl on his lips were signs that he was about to explode.
"Wait, wait…" I said, trying to distract him from throwing a rage fit in the quiet and cozy cafe.
"Look," I paused the video and rewind it to the scene.
I focused on his face and magnified it. He was frothing at the mouth and his eyes were almost white. The next scene was utterly despicable. His own mother took a syringe and jabbed it on his bicep.