Ava
I couldn’t stop shaking.
My hands trembled as I tried to steady the glass of water against my lips. The rim clinked against my teeth, spilling cold droplets down my chin. I set it down on the kitchen counter and gripped the edge until my knuckles went white.
Breathe, Ava. Just breathe.
But the air felt too thin, like the walls of my apartment were closing in, suffocating me with the weight of what I’d done.
The message sat open on my phone, the words seared into my mind even though I’d read them a dozen times:
You’re not done. More sketches. Or the first photo goes public. Tick-tock.
No name. No number I could trace. Just the faceless predator Jennifer had sent after me.
I stumbled to the sofa, burying my face in my hands. The room blurred behind my tears, the neat space I’d wo
