Two weeks had passed since the assault. Fourteen days of pretending to be human. Fourteen nights of lying awake next to James, counting his breaths, wondering how much longer she could keep this up.
The flowers had stopped coming after the first week, but the messages never did. Different numbers, always. She'd stopped blocking them. What was the point? He'd just find another way.
**You looked beautiful today, little star.**
**That blue shirt brings out your eyes.**
**I'm patient, but my patience isn't infinite.**
He was watching. Always watching. She'd spotted the black SUVs three more times—once parked across from the storage facility, once idling at the end of her street, once following her to the grocery store. Each time, her heart had seized in her chest. Each time, she'd forced
