It had been five days since Ava left Damien’s house.

It was Sunday night. Ava sat in her small living room beside Lily. The TV played a cartoon; Lily was glued to the screen, her legs tucked under her, a half-melted ice cream cone in her hand. The room smelled faintly of vanilla and her little sister’s lemon-scented shampoo.

Ava forced herself to watch too, but her mind was elsewhere. Questions from the past week replayed inside her head, Damien’s tears, the lies, the plan he admitted to. She watched Lily laugh, and her heart ached with guilt and exhaustion.

Her phone beeped, jolting her back to the present. She...