The Uber driver dropped Jordan off, and she quickly crossed her yard and pushed through the front door of her house. Switching on lights as she moved down the hallway, she called out Avery’s name, not concerned if she sounded worried or upset. She needed to know her sister was okay. “Avery!”

The silence was broken by only the hum of the air conditioner and the clock’s ticktock. She caught her shoulder on the doorframe of Avery’s room. Pain rocketed through her; she cursed and stumbled over a pair of discarded shoes by the bed.

Quickly she rummaged through the rumpled sheets, searching for Avery. The bed was empty. “Where the hell are you?”

She sat on the bed, lifted her phone, and said, “Call Avery.”

The phone rang four times before it went to voicemail. “This is Avery. Leave me a message!”

Jordan closed her eyes, summoned a calming breath before saying, “Avery, this is Jordan. I thought you were at home. I’m worried.”

When her mother had died, she had endured crushing loneliness. There was no one to call or talk to about what it was like to be twenty-two and suddenly in charge of a grieving twelve-year-old sister. But she had rallied, found a way forward. When Avery overdosed, that same loneliness had nearly suffocated her. But she had been so engaged in fighting for her sister’s life that she did not dare entertain it.

There was a ripping sound and an anguished cry. “Jordan!”

Avery’s voice echoed from near the kitchen. It sounded strangled, strained. “Avery?”

Rising, she moved across the room, tripping over the same shoes. Righting herself, she kept rushing into the living room and searched the shadows.

“Avery, where are you?” She struggled to keep her voice calm.

“Jordan,” Avery whimpered softly.

Jordan visualized the corner nook by the side patio door off the kitchen. She had never felt so helpless, never angrier that she couldn’t see. “Avery.”

“Don’t come closer.” Avery’s voice was slurred, but panic twisted around the words. “He’s going to kill us both.”

Jordan stretched out her hands, moved forward until they brushed Avery’s torso. Her sister was sitting, and her wrists were lashed to the arms of a chair.

“Get out of here,” Avery whispered. “He’s going to kill you.”

“What did he do to you?”

“Shot me full of H.” Avery began to cry. “He’s ruined me forever.”

“No, he has not. I’m not leaving you.” Her fingers dug into the tape, discovered it was wrapped several times and would require a knife to cut. She fished her knife out of her pocket.

“Please,” Avery begged. “Leave and get help.”

Jordan pressed the knife’s tip to the tape. “I’ll try not to cut you.”

“Get out,” Avery said. “He’s here somewhere.”