**The blade glinted—once, twice—as Michael drove it into Daisy’s throat. My puppy’s whimpers frayed into wet, gurgling rasps. Blood bloomed across his white Converse, ones he had just bought less than a week ago with money he had stolen out of my purse. His jeans drank it in, the denim fading from sky-blue to bruise-purple. **

****

**My body had turned to ash. My hand hovered between us, trembling like a moth caught in a draft, before curling back into my chest. Tears streamed down my face, my saliva thickened, and my nose began to run like water. Begging felt useless, but I choked it out anyway. **

****

**“Michael, please—” I sobbed loudly, my voice cracking through my tight throat.**

****

**He paused, the knife hovering. His gaze slid to mine, not angry, not insane. Bored. Like he’d been interrupted mid-chore. Daisy’s blood dripped from the blade onto the floorboards, each drop a metronome as her helpless sputtering continued. ****He dragged the bloodstained fingers of his left hand through his overgrown shaggy hair, dark brown and unkempt, before sighing in annoyance.******

****

**“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Sarah.” His drawl softened the edges of the words, a lover’s reproach. “Should’ve known better than to tease a man.” **

****

**Tease. The word hissed through me. Teasing was how he’d labeled my refusal last night—my refusal to have sex with someone I had met only four months ago. “Stop playing hard to get, princess.” **

****

**Daisy’s legs twitched, a final spasm. The silence afterward was almost worse than her cries. Michael sighed, tossing the knife aside. It skittered toward the hallway, where half-packed boxes slumped against the walls, their seams splitting. **

****

**“C’mere,” he said, beckoning with crimson palms. “Let’s fix this.” **

****

**I didn’t move. He crawled to me, his knees painting smears on the wood, and cradled my face. His thumbs smeared Daisy’s blood across my cheeks, warm and sticky. **

****

**“You know why I did this, right?” His breath smelled of spearmint and copper. “Love’s gotta hurt sometimes. Otherwise, it don’t stick.” **

****

**I nodded, my neck creaking like rusted hinges. My hands were sweaty and clamped, and I refused to make eye contact.**

****

**“Good girl.” He murmured, like he was rewarding a pet for obeying. He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering. I hated how it felt when he kissed me there. And God, I hated how I felt it there for the rest of the night. **

****

**“Bedroom. Five minutes.” He demanded with a smile.**

****

**My legs buckled as I pushed myself up, the world swaying like I was drunk. Michael’s dark-green eyes made me feel even sicker as he watched me step over Daisy—**

****

**don’t look down, don’t look down,” I thought to myself, but I caught a flash of her white fur, clumped and rust-red. The hallway stretched forever. Those goddamn boxes I had packed for the apartment I never got the chance to rent glared at me, one split open like a gutted fish with my favorite sweater spilling out. My bare feet trailed the cold floor as I made it into the bathroom, reluctantly shutting the door.**

****

**The bathroom lock clicked as I closed it, a sound as fragile as a bird’s heartbeat, in an attempt to make it seem like I wasn’t shutting myself off from him. I stared at the sink—pristine porcelain, a wedding gift from his mother—and twisted the faucet. Water gushed, loud enough to drown the creak of floorboards outside. **

****

**In the mirror, I saw the reflection of a stranger. Her cheeks were streaked with rust-red, her eyes hollow as eggshells. I scrubbed my face and hands under the warm water until the sink swirled pink, but the blood had already crystallized under my nails, in the creases of my knuckles. **

****

**“Two dogs in this house”, I thought. One, my beautiful baby, dead in the living room. The other waiting in the bed for my body.**

****

**The water ran clear. **

****

**I opened the medicine cabinet, my reflection splintering across its shelves. Behind the aspirin and cotton balls, the orange bottle glowed. “Take with food,” the label warned. **

****

**Michael’s voice slithered under the door. “Sarah? You okay in there, baby?” **

****

**“Almost done,” I called, pouring the pills into my palm. They looked like candy. “Sour apple”, I decided. “The kind my mom bought me after my first heartbreak.” **

****

**I wondered if he’d kiss me again when he found me. If he’d blame himself. If he’d cry.**

****

**The pills clattered against my teeth as I tipped them into my mouth. I bent to the faucet, water spilling over my palms, and drank from the cup of my own trembling. The first sip missed, spilling down my chin like the tears I couldn’t cry anymore. The second flooded my mouth with the familiar taste of city tap water. **

****

**I swallowed. **

****

**Not pills—shards. They carved a path down my throat, sharp as the lie I’d whispered earlier: “I love you too.” For a heartbeat, I wondered if they’d shred me open on the way down, spill my guts beside Daisy’s on the floor.**

****

**I left the water running that night.**