Author Note: This chapter contains suicide and self-harm if you are triggered; please do not read.

Dawn peeled through the blinds, casting a prison of shadows across Dora Jackson's face. Her eyes flicked open, heavy with the decision. She slipped from the satin sheets, her bare feet cold on the hardwood floor. There was no turning back now.

The apartment felt like a mausoleum, quiet and still. She padded to Avery's room, pushing the door with a tenderness that belied the turmoil within. Avery lay there, a picture of innocence in slumber, her lips parted slightly, breaths shallow. A single wayward lock of hair marred the perfection.

Dora reached out,...