The stuffed bunny’s ear was damp where Lila had been chewing it.

She didn’t remember putting it in her mouth—just the cramp that doubled her over in bed ten minutes ago, a deep twist low in her belly that made her gasp and grab Mr. Flops off the pillow. He’d been with her since she was nine, a floppy-eared rabbit with one button eye loose and a belly worn smooth by years of clutching. Even now, at nineteen, home from her first semester of college, she couldn’t sleep without him. And she couldn’t hurt without him.