She had to go downstairs. She’d be late for school if she didn’t, and at least school wasn’t here.

She grabbed her backpack and headed down. Mom and Dad sat silently at the kitchen table, Dad eating cereal, Mom pushing around half a fried egg on a plate with her fork. They looked up and smiled half-heartedly at Amy. Mom got her some juice and cereal, and Dad mentioned something about the news, but it all felt like a game of pretend to her. She understood: They were acting, trying to play it off like everything was fine, there was nothing to worry about, for her sake. They lived in the same constant terror that she did, and just like Amy, they hadn’t laughed since that day at the diner.

The only laughter was Katie’s, which now trickled in from the living room as she played with Rover. The noise made Amy’s cereal taste like soggy sawdust in her mouth. The sound of her little sister playing was how they knew where Rover was in the house these days. Though even if Katie wasn’t around, Amy thought, they still knew. They could feel Rover, feel his calm, cold anger with them in the house, silent and scary like a submarine under the water that they could pick up on their emotional radar.

Katie still didn’t know about the shelter—Rover had apparently chosen not to tell her, and Amy and her parents hadn’t spoken about it at all. There was an understanding that if Katie didn’t know something, then neither did Rover, so they figured the less they said around her, the better.

“Have you heard anything about Stormy?” asked Amy softly. “Has anyone seen her?”

Mom and Dad froze; Dad glanced over his shoulder and rubbed the spot on his head where his stitches had been.

“Nothing so far, honey,” said Mom, putting on her fake smile again. “But maybe it’s for the best, now that …” She trailed off, not wanting to say out loud what Amy knew she was thinking. Now that Rover’s here. Now that we know what he’s capable of.

Amy felt trapped. All her family thought about now was Rover. When Rover wanted to be fed, screens clicked off and phones gave off small electric shocks. When he wanted a walk, cupboards slammed and computers instantly searched for pictures of dog food. The family barely spoke above a whisper, worried he’d hear them. Worried they’d end up like the animals at the shelter.