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, tremblin...