The kitchen was a wreck with dishes piled high in the sink. Empty fast-food containers, dirty silverware, and a slew of pill vials littered the counters. My gaze whipped to Avery as I picked up a bottle.
Her hair was in desperate need of shampooing and a comb. Circles ringed her eyes, and her skin was blotchy. Something was wrong. I regarded the label.
Don’t jump to conclusions, I told myself. Find out the facts.
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