For two blocks after she stepped off the city bus, she felt her father watching from the upstairs window.

He would be half scrolling with his gun in his lap, she thinks.

He can’t stop thinking about her sister and what she’d been through. He can’t let it happen again.

A girl shouldn’t be alone, he thinks.

She’s not sure how she knows what he’s thinking, but she does.

Sometimes, when she gets home, he sends her out back to check the snare.

Sometimes, she holds the knife to a rabbit’s throat, and sometimes she lets it go before it screams.