“Hey,” Nat began, and then stopped, shocked by her friend’s appearance. Ava’s right cheek was red and raw, her lips cracked and swollen. Both her eyes were bloodshot, puffy from crying. “Oh my god.” Nat pushed her way inside. “What happened?”

Ava closed the door and locked it, throwing the deadbolt. “Come in,” she said, leading the way toward the low slate sofa. A pillow and fluffy blanket covered it; a makeshift bed. Ava tossed the blanket aside so they could sit.

“What happened to you?”

Ava gave a rueful smile. “Bad date.”

“A date did that to you? Did he hit you? Who was it?”

“It was my own fault.” The battered girl reached for an ice pack resting on the black marble coffee table, held it to her cheek. “There were red flags, but I ignored them. I got greedy.”

Nat reached out, held Ava’s free hand. “Tell me. . . .”

“I went back on the site. I don’t know why. I’ve got some good daddies in my life, kind and generous. But I was looking for something different. Something exciting.” She moved the ice pack to her swollen lips. “I messaged with a guy—really handsome, into boats and travel. Spring break’s coming up. I thought he might take me somewhere if we hit it off.”

“What happened?”

“We went for a drink, and he was charming. He said he was into white parties. I was feeling kind of wild, so I said I was, too.”

“White parties? Like all white clothes?”

“Like all white drugs. Coke and pills.” The ice pack returned to her cheek. “I went to his hotel room. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to be spontaneous, just this once, but . . .” Emotion stole her voice, filled her eyes with tears.

Nat squeezed her hand. “It’s okay.”

“It started off fine. We were fucked-up, but we were having fun. And then, he went crazy.”

“What did he do?”

“He punched me in the face. Hard. And then he threw me to the floor and he . . . he raped me. He didn’t wear a condom.”

“Oh, Ava.”

“He held me by the neck, crushed my face into the carpet while he did it. And when he was done”—her face paled beneath the carpet burn—“he spat on me, called me a whore, and then he left.”

Nat gathered the bruised girl into her arms and let her cry on her shoulder. After a few moments, Nat asked, “Have you seen a doctor?”

Ava pulled away, dabbed at her eyes with the collar of her sweatshirt. “I’ve got an appointment at three.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Did you call the police?”

“What would I say? I met a guy on a sugar daddy site. He paid me to go to his room and do drugs with him. They’d think it was all my fault.”

“No, they wouldn’t. You’re battered and bruised. They’d see what that monster did to you, and they’d make him pay.”