AVA'S WORST FEAR COMES TRUE

The rest of the school day passed in a blur. Ava couldn’t focus, couldn’t laugh, couldn’t even pretend.

The message from her mom echoed in her mind like a warning bell, growing louder with every passing second.

Michelle noticed. “Hey… are you okay?” she asked as they walked out of school together.

Ava forced a small smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Michelle offered, her voice gentle.

Ava hesitated. She wanted to say yes. She wanted someone beside her, just in case—but she knew better. If Michelle came, things would only get worse.

So she shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Michelle looked unconvinced but didn’t push. “Alright. Text me, okay?”

Ava nodded, though she knew she probably wouldn’t.

As she made her way home, the cold February wind bit at her skin, but it wasn’t nearly as chilling as the fear curling in her stomach. Every step felt heavier, as if she were walking toward something inevitable—something she had no way to stop.

*STORM AT HOME*

SLAM.

Ava flinched as the door was yanked shut behind her.

Her mother stood there, eyes dark with fury.

"Where were you last night?" her mother’s voice was low, controlled—but that only made it worse.

Ava swallowed. “At Michelle’s house… I told you—”

“Liar.”

The word cut through her like a blade.

Her mother stepped closer. “Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been doing? Sneaking around? Staying out late? Disobeying me?”

Ava shook her head, her voice small. “I wasn’t sneaking around. I asked. You said it was okay—”

Her mother’s hand slammed against the wall beside her, making Ava jump.

“You think I didn’t notice? You’ve been getting too comfortable. Laughing. Acting like everything is fine. Like you’re free to do whatever you want.”

Ava’s throat tightened.

Her mother’s voice turned sharp. “I let you go last night because I wanted to see if you’d come back like a good daughter. But you? You don’t even care about this family.”

“That’s not true!” Ava’s voice cracked. “I do care—”

“Then why are you always so eager to leave?”

Ava opened her mouth, but no words came.

Because leaving meant breathing. Because leaving meant being somewhere safe. Because leaving meant, for a little while,

she wasn’t waiting for the next explosion.

Her mother shook her head in disgust.

Ava stared at her.

A moment of silence.

Then her mother turned away.

“Go to your room.

Ava didn’t move.

Her mother’s voice snapped. “Now.”

Ava forced her feet to move. She climbed the stairs, her vision blurred with unshed tears.