“It was you,” I said. “You killed her.”

She sat in the kitchen chair, trembling, her big eyes open. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t say no. After a minute she took a breath and said, “Come on. We better go.”

She reached for my hand and I heard a guttural animal noise coming from my own throat. I recoiled and she gripped my arm, fingernails digging into my wrist. Our eyes met. I couldn’t hold her gaze.

“We can be together,” she said.

“No,” I said.

She was hurting me. I tried to pull my arm away from her. Her blow knocked me into the wall. I hadn’t seen it coming. I shook my head, dizzy and stunned, and doubled over as she pummeled my torso with her fists. She was stronger than I thought. She hit me again and again. She kept coming at me. I used the wall for support and kicked her shin, yanked her hair, and pulled her off.

She lunged at me. I grabbed her arms and tried to hold them at her sides—if I let go she’d attack me. I shoved her down and knelt on top of her. She kicked and struggled. I didn’t know how to fight. I didn’t want to hurt her. I had to make her stop but I wasn’t strong enough. She shoved me and I stumbled and fell. I scrambled back, to the wall behind me. The vodka bottle had rolled into the corner and I reached for it. I felt a kick to the side of my head and slumped against the wall. Audrey kicked me again and I curled into a ball over the bottle. I could hear her breathing. She leaned over, panting, her hand on the couch for support.

“You don’t love me,” she said.

I stared up at her. I could barely breathe.

“You always leave,” she said. “Everyone leaves.”

She moved towards me, knelt, and then lunged at me, her fingernails pushing at my eyes. I raised my arm, brought the bottle down on her head. The glass didn’t break. The thud traveled up my arm, to my stomach, between my legs. I hit her again and the bottle broke into shards that cut my hand. She fell to her knees and collapsed sideways. I heaved, tasted vodka and bile. My body convulsed and a froth filled my head. My vision wobbled. I struggled to focus. I stayed where I was for several minutes, watching Audrey. She lay still, in a heap. I was afraid she was dead at first, but then I saw her breathing. I backed away from her, still holding the jagged broken handle of the bottle in one hand, in case she attacked me again. I ignored the blood streaming down my arm and found my phone with my other hand. I called Ash, cleaned away the drugs, and sat down on the floor. I watched Audrey’s chest rise and fall, shallowly, while I waited for the sound of sirens.